44: Chapter 44 My Clinic, A Little Different

At nine o'clock sharp the next morning.

The alloy door of the sample storage room slid open, revealing the interior.

The room was constructed from a single piece of silver-gray alloy; not a single screw could be seen on the walls, ceiling, or floor.

On a metal table in the center of the room sat a metal box covered by an explosion-proof glass dome.

Jiang Feng did not sit in the high-backed chair prepared for him; instead, he had Old Chen place his small, paint-chipped folding stool next to the glass dome.

He just sat there, hands resting on his knees, his posture relaxed.

Outside the storage room, separated by one-way bulletproof glass, Qian Li, Professor Sun, and the other experts were all staring at the monitoring screens.

They viewed Jiang Feng's consultation with a mix of curiosity and distrust.

Jiang Feng looked at the metal box under the glass dome; his system vision was already active.

Twisted black mist seeped out from the gaps in the bamboo slip, coiling endlessly.

He felt no inner turmoil, only thinking this whole setup was making a mountain out of a molehill.

"Let's begin," Jiang Feng said into the miniature microphone on his collar.

The alloy door slid open.

Two staff members in protective suits walked in, supporting a young man wearing a hospital gown—it was Zhang Yuan, whom Jiang Feng had specifically named yesterday.

Zhang Yuan's eyes were vacant, lacking focus. His lips twitched, repeatedly emitting indistinct syllables.

"Gu… na… xi…"

No one could understand them.

The staff members pressed him onto the stool opposite Jiang Feng, then retreated to the corner, keeping their distance.

Jiang Feng did not touch the metal box, nor did he touch Zhang Yuan. He closed his eyes and leaned forward.

In the observation room, Professor Sun snorted coldly through the intercom microphone.

"Pretending to be mysterious!" His voice rang out in the storage room. "I want to see what kind of trick he can pull!"

Qian Li raised a hand to signal him to be quiet, while he himself stared intently at the main monitoring screen.

It was very quiet in the storage room, save for the murmurs in Zhang Yuan's throat and the hum of the equipment.

Suddenly, a gray-haired linguist in the observation room leaned forward, getting close to the screen.

"Look at his hands!"

On the screen, Jiang Feng's eyes were closed, and his right index finger, resting on the edge of the small folding stool, was tapping rhythmically.

Tap. Tap-tap. Tap.

The rhythm of the tapping was perfectly synchronized with the syllables coming from Zhang Yuan's mouth, not a fraction off.

The atmosphere in the observation room changed instantly. Previously, they were just watching for fun, but now, an inexplicable sense of coordination made everyone focus their attention.

The disdain on Professor Sun's face disappeared. He could say Jiang Feng was performing, but this rhythmic synchronization left him without words to refute it.

Inside the storage room.

Jiang Feng was completely unaware of the reaction from the outside.

He kept his eyes closed, fingers tapping out the rhythm, providing the system with a baseline frequency for synchronization.

【Ding! Frequency synchronization complete, now accessing the subconscious information stream of target "Zhang Yuan"…】

【Analysis starting…】

【Information contamination source: Sample-001 (Pre-Qin bamboo slip)】

【Contamination mode: Subconscious resonance amplification】

【Decoding abnormal wavebands…】

In Jiang Feng's mind, there were no longer words.

The system connected the "information stream" of the bamboo slip with the "abnormal wavebands" of Zhang Yuan's brain, translating the chaotic data into fragmented, flashing images.

Murky river water.

A seven or eight-year-old boy struggling in the water, flailing his arms and legs. Waterweeds wrapped around his ankles.

Sunlight filtered through the water, distorted and distant.

Water poured into his nose and mouth, his lungs burning with pain.

Then came darkness, and the suffocating feeling of being buried alive.

These were the deepest fears of Zhang Yuan's childhood, trauma he had forgotten but which remained branded into his subconscious.

Those bamboo slips had not created anything new; they had simply found his most fragile cracks, amplified that fear, and destroyed his sanity.

Five minutes later, Jiang Feng's fingertips stopped tapping.

He opened his eyes and looked at Zhang Yuan opposite him. His voice was clearly transmitted into the observation room through the microphone.

"He is not talking nonsense."

"He is calling for help."

Jiang Feng turned to the two bewildered staff members in the corner, or perhaps he was asking the people in the observation room.

"Go check his files."

"When Zhang Yuan was seven, did he drown in a river back home and almost die?"

As his words fell, there was silence in the observation room.

Professor Sun's mouth hung open, unable to close for a long time, his eyes behind his glasses full of shock.

He had spent his whole life researching documents and artifacts, believing in logic and evidence.

But now, this "fraud" in his eyes had just closed his eyes and tapped on a stool, revealing a childhood secret buried twenty years ago.

This was already beyond the scope of logic.

Qian Li was the first to react.

He grabbed the internal communication phone beside him and roared:

"Verify it immediately! Use all resources! Contact the local departments, check the household registration files, interview the family! Three minutes! I want an exact result within three minutes!"

A flurry of busy responses came from the other end of the line.

Inside the storage room, Jiang Feng remained calm.

He leaned back on his small stool and waved at the two stunned staff members in the corner.

"Take him out."

The two came to their senses, stepped forward to support Zhang Yuan on the left and right while he was still muttering to himself, and dragged him out of the storage room.

The alloy door closed behind them.

Jiang Feng looked at the empty space opposite him, then turned to look at the observation window. He knew those people needed time to digest and verify.

He took a tube of effervescent tablets from his pocket, tapped one out, and dropped it into his thermos.

Sizzle—bubbles rose.

He swirled the cup, watching the water turn orange-yellow.

【Ding! Effective divination attempts: 1/3】

The system prompt sounded in his mind.

It was done.

Jiang Feng felt no inner turmoil.

He had bet correctly; this place was his best location for tasks. He didn't need to solicit business; the state was his biggest "customer."

Time passed minute by minute.

In the storage room, there was only the sound of him drinking water and the effervescent tablet dissolving.

The observation room was in chaos. Although Jiang Feng couldn't hear them, he could see the expressions on the faces of those experts and professors, shifting from shock to debate, and finally settling into a complex silence.

Two minutes and fifty seconds.

The phone in Qian Li's office rang.

He grabbed the receiver. Listening to the report on the phone, his hand gripping the receiver tightened, his knuckles turning white.

He hung up the phone, walked to the observation window, and picked up the intercom microphone. His hand was shaking.

"Mr… Mr. Jiang." He cleared his throat, trying to keep his voice steady. "It has been verified."

"Zhang Yuan, native of Zhangzhuang Village, under Zhoukou City, Yu Province. Twenty-one years ago, at the age of seven, he drowned in a tributary of the old Huaihe River course at the village entrance, was unconscious for over five minutes, was rescued by fellow villagers, and only escaped life-threatening danger after three hours of emergency treatment."

Every word from Qian Li left the people in the observation room speechless.

Professor Sun's body swayed, and he leaned against the wall, muttering: "Impossible… this is impossible…"

The things he had always believed in now had cracks in them.

Jiang Feng was not surprised by this result.

He screwed the lid onto his thermos, stood up, and stretched his legs, which had gone numb from sitting.

He spoke into the microphone, his tone lazy: "Alright, let's not waste any more time."

He pointed toward the alloy door.

"Next."