44: Chapter 44 Have you chosen a burial plot?

The smell of disinfectant was pungent, mixed with the scent of stale blood.

The door to the intensive care unit was left ajar.

The doctor had just finished changing the dressings; gauze covered in black scabs was tossed into a tray with a soft 'clatter.'

"The toxins have been suppressed for now."

The doctor took off his mask and glanced at Lin Fan, who was leaning against the doorframe. His voice was very soft. "But his constitution is unique. If it were an ordinary person, this arm would have been ruined long ago. Even so, if he wants to fully heal..."

The doctor shook his head, leaving the sentence unfinished as he pushed the treatment cart away.

The wheels rolled over the gaps in the floor tiles, making a rhythmic 'clunk-clunk' sound that seemed exceptionally piercing in the dead silence of the afternoon.

Lin Fan stood up straight; he didn't say a word.

The only sound in the ward was the ticking of the monitors.

Zhang Hao lay on the bed, wrapped up like a giant Zongzi. His originally round face was now as pale as paper, and the gauze on his left shoulder showed faint signs of black seepage.

Hearing footsteps, the 'Zongzi' on the bed stirred slightly.

"Fan... Brother Fan."

Zhang Hao struggled to open his eyes. Seeing it was Lin Fan, a flicker of light instantly brightened his dull eyes.

He wanted to smile.

But the movement tugged at the wounds on his face, causing him to grimace and distort his expression like a bitter melon.

"I didn't... didn't embarrass you, right?"

Zhang Hao panted heavily, his voice sounding like air leaking from a bellows. "That grandson... I slammed him silly. I heard... the sound of bones breaking."

"You didn't embarrass me."

Lin Fan walked to the bedside, pulled over a chair, and sat down.

He reached out to tuck in the corners of Zhang Hao's blanket, his movements very gentle, for fear of touching those wounds.

"You were the MVP of the match."

Lin Fan's voice was flat, devoid of any emotional fluctuation.

He pulled a bank card from his pocket and tucked it under the pillow.

Inside was the five hundred thousand earned from selling blind boxes over the past few days.

Immediately after, taking advantage of the moment his body blocked the security camera's blind spot, a small transparent glass bottle appeared in Lin Fan's hand.

It contained a pale green liquid, radiating a sense of vibrant vitality.

[Basic Purification Potion]

[Effect: Clears all negative statuses from the body and accelerates wound healing.]

"Open your mouth."

Lin Fan unscrewed the bottle cap.

Zhang Hao subconsciously opened his mouth.

The cool liquid slid down his throat.

The next second, Zhang Hao's eyes widened.

A cool current instantly enveloped his entire body, and that bone-piercing burning sensation was rapidly fading. His originally heavy body felt as if a thousand-pound burden had been lifted.

"Brother Fan, this..."

"Shh."

Lin Fan raised a finger to his lips.

Zhang Hao understood.

He blinked, swallowing the words at the tip of his tongue, and his face displayed his signature silly grin.

It didn't hurt anymore.

It really didn't hurt anymore.

The things Brother Fan gave were always miracles.

"Bang!"

The ward door was suddenly burst open.

Chu Yaoyao rushed in like a gust of wind, carrying a fruit basket larger than she was.

"You dead fatty!"

She slammed the fruit basket heavily onto the bedside table, causing the water glass on top to wobble three times.

Seeing Zhang Hao's miserable state, Chu Yaoyao's originally fierce expression instantly collapsed.

Her eyes reddened, and a mist of tears swirled in them.

"Usually you look so cowardly, only knowing how to hide behind Lin Fan when things happen."

Chu Yaoyao sniffled, grabbed an orange from the fruit basket, and peeled it fiercely. "At the critical moment... you were actually quite manly."

She kept her head down, her fingers quickly tearing away the orange peel.

Although she was cursing under her breath, she peeled it very meticulously. Even the tiny white pith on the orange flesh was picked clean by her, one by one.

"Eat, choke to death for all I care!"

Chu Yaoyao broke off half the orange and roughly stuffed it into Zhang Hao's mouth, nearly making the fatty's eyes roll back from choking.

"Cough, cough..."

Zhang Hao chewed the orange while coughing; the juice was very sweet.

Watching this scene, the sliver of ice in the depths of Lin Fan's eyes melted slightly.

Warmth.

But also fragile.

In this world where the strong prey on the weak, this kind of warmth was like a bubble—one prick and it would burst. The only way to protect this bubble was to uproot everyone who tried to pop it.

"I'm leaving. I hope Wang Teng has picked out his grave site."

Lin Fan stood up, hands in his pockets, and turned to walk out of the ward.

The moment the door closed, the playful noise in the ward was shut behind him.

The world became cold once again.

The corridor was long.

At the end, a group of people was approaching.

Surrounded in the center was none other than Wang Teng.

It was a small world for enemies.

Or perhaps, it was intentional.

Wang Teng had changed into a clean white suit, his hair combed meticulously. But even with expensive concealer, it couldn't hide the grayness of his complexion.

That was the exhaustion of overdrawn vitality.

Seeing Lin Fan, Wang Teng stopped in his tracks.

The lackeys around him immediately fanned out, forming a semi-circle that blocked Lin Fan in the middle of the corridor.

The air solidified.

Only the faint ticking from a distant heart monitor could be heard.

"Haven't run away yet?"

Wang Teng was fiddling with a new medicinal pill in his hand. It was a black pill; under the scraping of his fingernails, fine powder constantly fell from it.

He looked at Lin Fan and let out a neurotic smile.

The muscles at the corner of his eyes were twitching uncontrollably.

"The next match is yours."

Wang Teng took a step forward, the strong scent of perfume mixing with the decaying medicinal smell on him to hit Lin Fan's nostrils. "That dead fatty was lucky; his fat saved him. You might not be so lucky."

"I will crush your bones, one by one."

Wang Teng's voice was very soft, yet it carried a crazed ruthlessness. "Just like crushing an ant."

Lin Fan did not retreat.

He didn't even take his hands out of his pockets.

When anger reaches its peak, it becomes absolute calmness.

Lin Fan turned his head, his gaze falling on Wang Teng's distorted face.

His eyes were very empty.

It was as if he were looking at a corpse that had already gone cold, or at a batch of raw materials about to expire.

"Wang Teng."

Lin Fan spoke.

His tone was terrifyingly flat, without any fluctuation, just like asking a stranger if they had eaten.

"Have you picked out a grave site for yourself?"

Wang Teng was stunned.

He had imagined Lin Fan would be angry, fearful, or even beg for mercy.

The only thing he hadn't expected was this kind of disregard.

This high-and-mighty disregard, as if a god were looking down upon an ant.

"You're looking for death!"

Wang Teng flew into a rage, and the black pill in his hand was instantly crushed into powder.

But Lin Fan was no longer looking at him.

He brushed past him.

His shoulder lightly grazed Wang Teng's sleeve.

Lin Fan's figure disappeared around the corner of the corridor, leaving behind only a tall, cold, and indifferent silhouette.

Wang Teng froze in place, his chest heaving violently.

The sense of humiliation from being ignored gnawed at his remaining sanity like a venomous snake.

"I'm going to kill you..."

"I will definitely kill you!!!"

...

The Gymnasium.

The semi-finals scene.

The atmosphere was even more frenzied than in the morning. After several rounds of bloody elimination matches, the audience's adrenaline had been completely stirred up.

"Semi-finals, Match One!"

"Lin Fan VS Li Feng!"

The commentator's voice blasted through the massive speakers, bombarding the entire venue.

On the arena stage.

Li Feng held a longsword, his expression solemn to the extreme.

As the genius of No. 2 High School and a Ninth-grade Martial Disciple known as 'Fast Sword,' he should have been a favorite to win. But now, facing that lazy youth with hands in his pockets, he felt as if he were being watched by a primordial beast.

Pressure.

That invisible, suffocating pressure caused the palm of his sword-wielding hand to be covered in cold sweat.

"Lin Fan!"

Li Feng took a deep breath, pointed his sword at the ground, and assumed an opening stance. "I know you're very strong. That fatty... is your brother, right?"

Lin Fan raised his eyelids.

"So?"

"Wang Teng is a madman," Li Feng said in a low voice. "But I am not. In this battle, I will go all out, but I will also know when to stop."

He was a martial artist and had the principles of one.

Lin Fan looked into Li Feng's clear eyes.

He nodded.

"Okay."

Lin Fan pulled his hands out of his pockets.

This time, he didn't casually throw out a slap as he had before.

He stood firm, feet slightly apart and shoulder-width.

His left hand was behind his back, and his right hand was clenched in a fist, held at his waist.

The most basic opening stance of Military Combat Boxing.

It was as standard as a textbook illustration.

"Please."