Chapter 68: Saving Lives—A Useless Wood Ability?

As soon as the nurse shouted, everyone nearby—and even people further away—turned their attention to Bian Changxi and the group who had just entered.

The people arguing with the doctors and nurses rushed over, the first of them grabbing Gu Xu: “Are you a doctor? One of those ability users who can save people? My son’s dying, please save him!”

Gu Xu tried to pull his hand back. “Sorry, I don’t have that ability.”

But the family member wouldn’t let go.

The doctor, looking relieved, straightened his clothes and strode over. “Ah, Captain Gu! You’ve got the wrong person—he’s not a wood-type ability user. But those folks behind him…”

He glanced at Bian Changxi and the man and woman with her.

“Dr. Lu,” Gu Xu greeted him, then introduced him to Bian Changxi. “This is Dr. Lu Shaoyang, the best surgeon in the military district.”

Lu Shaoyang, huh? Bian Changxi sized him up. She’d heard of Lu Shaoyang before—back at the Su City base, he was quite a figure. His main claim to fame was that, although he was a dyed-in-the-wool Western doctor, when the medicine shortage hit, he was one of the first to lead efforts to cultivate Chinese medicinal herbs. Unlike other Western doctors, who either fiercely resisted or fell into despair, he adapted. So, after the wood-type healing system was established, he still held a good position in the medical world.

In person, Lu Shaoyang looked refined and handsome, wearing a professional, scrutinizing smile. His half-rim glasses made him seem trustworthy, but the exhaustion on his face couldn’t be hidden, and his hair was a mess, taking away from his usual poise. His white coat was stained with blood—some fresh, some dried—making a dark, messy patch.

Bian Changxi was about to introduce herself when the woman with the wild, curly hair jumped in first: “I’m a wood-type ability user. Where’s the patient? Take me to see him.”

Lu Shaoyang frowned. This kind of arrogant attitude was common among newly arrived wood-types, but now? Every single one had been beaten down—either storming off in a huff or slumping around like limp worms, running errands and being bossed around.

He had long since given up hope for these wood-types. The higher-ups kept saying to gather more, but he didn’t expect anything from them anymore.

But the family members were different. Clinging to the curly-haired woman as if she were their last hope, they crowded around her, showering her with flattery as they led her to the partitioned area.

Lu Shaoyang knew these wood-types were more trouble than help, so he hurried after them, not daring to let them mess around unsupervised. Bian Changxi naturally followed to see what was going on.

Gu Xu noticed Bian Changxi completely ignored him, treating him as if he didn’t exist. His eyes darkened, but he followed as well.

This was the outermost partition. On makeshift “beds” cobbled together from corrugated cardboard, plastic bags, and torn clothes, lay people covered in blood and wounds. As they walked, Lu Shaoyang explained quietly, “These are the last group brought in. They got into a car accident while fleeing zombies—everyone’s seriously injured.”

The patient everyone was focused on was a man in his thirties. The glass shards had already been removed from his neck and cheeks, and he was on an IV drip. The worst injury was a wound at the back of his head that wouldn’t stop bleeding. Although it had been bandaged, it was basically useless—he was already unconscious.

“In this condition, only a craniotomy could save him, but we don’t have the resources for such a major surgery.”

In truth, even if they did, it would be extremely risky. In other words, this man was as good as dead.

There was a trace of regret in Lu Shaoyang’s voice.

But with so many patients, so many in critical condition, all he could do was feel sorry for them. The most rational thing to do would have been not to waste IV fluids or bandages at all—after all, both were in short supply. Every bit used was one less for someone else, and this was only the first day since the army arrived. How many more would be injured in the days to come? They were using up other people’s chances of survival on someone who was already doomed.

It was a harsh truth, but a truth nonetheless.

Unfortunately, the family couldn’t accept it and insisted they stay and try to save him.

Lu Shaoyang glanced at his watch—already five minutes wasted. He signaled to the two nurses to leave, not to waste any more time here. If it wouldn’t cause such a scene, he’d have left too—so many others needed his help. Luckily, he’d already reported the situation, and someone would probably come to handle it soon.

Meanwhile, the curly-haired woman seemed a bit intimidated by the severity of the injuries; her earlier bravado faded. She muttered, “This bad, huh? Even before all this, that’d be a fatal wound.”

Though she felt uncertain, she didn’t show it. Rolling up her sleeves, she opened her left hand, and a glossy, delicate little sprout appeared out of thin air, trembling as it unfurled its leaves.

Everyone gasped in surprise—none of the previous wood-types had managed this.

The curly-haired woman looked a bit smug. She pressed her right hand to the patient’s chest, placed the sprout in her left hand on top of her right, and began to channel her power, both hands turning slightly green.

Bian Changxi narrowed her eyes. Not bad—this woman’s ability was stronger than the others here. If she hadn’t shown off by manifesting her core sprout, she might have been able to focus her energy better and get a stronger effect.

Every wood-type had a sprout like this—it was the core of their power. Bian Changxi had one too, though most wood-types weren’t even aware of it yet. There was no need to manifest it when channeling energy; the sprout was just a physical form maintained by a concentration of energy, and it took a lot to keep it visible.

Besides, Bian Changxi had a feeling this patient was beyond saving.

Sure enough, after a while, the wounds on the surface closed up a bit, but the patient showed no real improvement. The curly-haired woman’s face turned pale, sweat beading on her forehead.

The family’s hope turned to disappointment. The patient’s mother asked anxiously, “Can you do it or not?”

The curly-haired woman snapped, “What are you rushing me for? Your son’s injuries are too severe—if you think you can do better, be my guest!”

Someone nearby snorted, “Yeah, right. I bet you’re just as useless as the rest of those wood-types—always bragging about how amazing you are, but when it comes down to it, you’re no better than anyone else. Pfft, and you call yourself some kind of angel in white for the new era?”

The voice was loud, and other wood-types nearby couldn’t help but look embarrassed.

In the next partition, a wood-type girl was helping bandage someone’s wounds. Distracted, she didn’t tie it tightly enough, and the patient yelled, shoving her away: “Get lost! Can’t even bandage a wound—what kind of ability user are you? Not even as good as a regular nurse!”

After the apocalypse, the privileged status of ability users had left countless ordinary people feeling resentful.

If ability users really were that amazing, people would have no choice but to accept it. But if it turned out they weren’t so special after all, the backlash was immediate.

It wasn’t just wood-types facing this—other newly awakened abilities were also weak at first. The difference was, most of the others were offensive powers, or like water-types, who were valued from the start because of the drinking water crisis. Wood-types, on the other hand, hadn’t yet shown their importance, nor did they have any intimidating strength. Plus, today’s events had given them a collective chance to “lose face.”

Wood-types were supposed to bide their time, letting the other abilities establish the new post-apocalyptic power system before stepping in as healers and buffers—demonstrating humanity’s new flexibility: not just able to fight and destroy, but also to save.

Instead, they’d been pushed out front first. In a way, these wood-type ability users had shattered people’s expectations and reverence for abilities.

The curly-haired woman had no comeback. Flushed with embarrassment and anger, she stood up and snapped, “You want to argue? Think you’re so great?”

Lu Shaoyang, helpless, turned to Gu Xu. “Captain Gu, what do you think…?” He assumed the curly-haired woman was with Gu Xu, since they’d arrived together.

Gu Xu replied, “These two rode here with me, so they must have some skill.”

The military had called for wood-types from all over the district, but the way they arrived reflected their status. Those who came by car usually had military connections. For example, soldiers treated Bian Changxi politely because of Gu Xu—otherwise, they’d have just dragged her upstairs, maybe even made her walk.

Gu Xu’s words were a reminder to Lu Shaoyang not to brush off this man and woman, while also distancing himself from them.

Lu Shaoyang suddenly understood. He asked the soldier who’d brought them, and his face darkened—it turned out they were with Colonel Yue Fushan, who was close to the commander.

So much drama just to treat a patient—Lu Shaoyang felt a headache coming on. Forcing himself to focus, he suggested to the curly-haired woman, “Why don’t we let the other one try?”

He didn’t think to ask Gu Xu—if these two weren’t with him, then who was?

At that moment, Bian Changxi’s attention was drawn to another patient.

“Pfft—” On the other side of the same partition, a patient suddenly coughed up a mouthful of dark blood. He was already covered in blood, his body soaked in what he’d vomited up. A long steel rod was skewered diagonally through his chest, blood gushing from the wound. He looked even worse off than the man with the head injury.

Worse still, there was no one at his side—not even anyone to wipe away his blood or hang an IV.

Amid the chaos, he was left to die alone. Bian Changxi stood before him. He seemed to see a shadow, struggling to open his eyes, gasping for breath as if he might choke at any moment, tears leaking from the corners of his eyes—who knew what he was crying for.

Bian Changxi grabbed a nurse who was about to leave and asked, “What’s his situation?”

The nurse shook her head with pity. “The steel rod pierced both his aorta and esophagus, damaged his lungs, and caused a pneumothorax. There’s nothing we can do.”

Bian Changxi crouched down and took the patient’s hand. There were no black or green spots—just a pure physical injury, but his life force was almost gone."