Chapter 47
“So many people…”
Coming to the kindergarten for the second time, Jiang Jitang almost thought he had taken the wrong path. The remote, deserted kindergarten was now packed shoulder-to-shoulder with people. Two big men stood at the entrance, and the line stretched so long he couldn’t even see the end.
What was more shocking—some people in the line were pushing wheelchairs or carrying stretchers.
“What’s going on?” Jiang Jitang grabbed a man in line and asked.
“You didn’t read the notice?” The man, standing straight like a pine tree, looked puzzled. “Which city are you from?”
“Jin City.”
The man’s expression changed—envy mixed with bitterness. “No wonder you don’t know. You guys have fixed slots.”
After asking in detail, Jiang Jitang finally understood. Everyone in front of him was an official player from other cities. They traveled in small groups, escorting severely injured teammates here—partly to drop them off, partly to learn the route.
Since 6 a.m., they had been arriving one after another—all here for Jiang Jitang, the ‘miracle healer’.
The promised 100 treatment slots were allocated first to all regions of Nan Jiang Province. Priority went to severely injured players. If there were still slots left, then the lightly injured would get a chance.
After splitting among provincial regions, remaining slots were given to severely injured players from other provinces—especially those who were about to enter dungeons soon.
In the cube game, only one item drops per run, only for high-scoring clears—and healing items are even rarer. As a result, the proportion of healers has always been extremely low.
Healers are precious, and the official benefits aren’t as good as those from private groups. Nobody had such a powerful healer, so everyone was fighting desperately for slots.
But Jin City’s official players were exempt—true critical injuries had an emergency channel.
“Doesn’t your city have healers? You came all the way here just for this?” Jiang Jitang asked curiously.
“We do, and they’re strong—but their items have very limited uses, only a few times per day. Unlike Jin City’s healer—rumor says he has an incredibly powerful item, can heal ten severely injured people at once, up to a hundred in a day. Damn, a hundred!”
Compared to saving a life, a few hours of travel was nothing.
In fact, four healers were scheduled here, taking shifts, but only Jiang Jitang had special treatment—he was the “renowned doctor,” an expert appointment, working only one day a month.
Everyone rushed here on that exact day.
“To be honest, with this kind of life-saving reliability, we all want to transfer to Jin City.”
Because of this, some officials in the province had begun suggesting that the healer be relocated to the provincial capital—with free housing, better pay, whatever conditions he wanted.
Jiang Xingzhou had shut that down instantly.
Using the healer was fine. Stealing him? Absolutely not.
“If they’re already trying to snatch people now, what will happen when his ‘External Aid’ identity becomes public?” Jiang Jitang was amused; he was actually a little excited.
He walked to the entrance. Before he showed any identification, the guards recognized him immediately—one grinning widely, the other rushing forward.
“Comrade Jiang, you’re here!”
“Am I late?” This feeling of being valued was unmistakably addictive.
“No, no, you’re early.”
Without any extra words, they took him straight to the small wooden hut.
Inside, he saw the place was wired with a clear entrance-and-exit path to prevent players from getting lost—or trying to linger after being healed.
“He’s here.”
A plump woman in her forties stood by the back door—she looked like the kind of cheerful, easygoing aunt you’d meet on the street. She smiled before she even spoke.
“Deputy Jiang,” she enthusiastically shook his hand. “I’m your assistant. My surname is Xia, everyone calls me Sister Xia. I’ll be helping you with your work here.”
“Thank you, Sister Xia. Call me Little Jiang.” Jiang Jitang replied warmly. “Shall we begin?”
“Of course, Comrade Little Jiang.”
Inside, the room didn’t look like a clinic—it felt like a warm and cozy lounge. Drawing the curtains, he could see lush greenery through the big window. In just two days, the outside had been filled with arranged potted plants. He even saw a half-finished stable made with colorful wooden boards—like something from a fairytale.
Sister Xia had already turned on the air conditioning, started boiling water, and asked what tea he preferred. The drawer of the coffee table was filled with every type of tea, even coffee and milk tea.
“Dianhong [1], thank you.”
Jiang Jitang thanked her again. “You’ve worked hard. I can handle things myself, honestly.”
“No need to be polite. You take care of the important things. Small trivial tasks? Let me do them.”
“What important things? I’m just an ordinary person.” Jiang Jitang checked his watch. “Where’s the first patient?”
Sister Xia opened the main door. The LCD display lit up with a number, and a small speaker called out:
“Number One, please enter. Number Two, please prepare. One person per consultation, no cutting in line.”
It repeated three times.
Jiang Jitang couldn’t help straightening up. It felt like he really was opening a clinic.
Patient Number One was wheeled in—one patient, two assistants.
“Doctor…”
“Just call me teammate. I’m just a regular player with good luck.”
Don’t call him doctor—he felt guilty. He didn’t even have a medical license.
“Um… doctor, I—”
Before they finished explaining, Jiang Jitang was already beside the stretcher. A soft glow swept over the dying player.
The severely injured player opened his eyes, dazed. “Where am I?”
Then he sat up.
Sister Xia: “……”
Everyone else: “……”
Your definition of “ordinary” seems different from ours.
Player Number One walked out on his own legs, shocking the crowd outside. The screen updated: “Number Two, please enter. Number Three, prepare.”
Player Two came in—also on a stretcher, but conscious.
Jiang Jitang smiled gently at him, then swept him with soft healing light.
In truth, he didn’t even need the light.
After consuming so many wishing stars, he was frighteningly strong now. He could snap his fingers and heal the entire line—no scars left.
But that would be too exaggerated—and would make his work seem too easy and worthless.
Like a famous hairstylist who could finish a haircut in a few snips but still spends half an hour fussing so the client feels the money was worth it.
Same principle.
Keeping a low profile, Jiang Jitang healed them one by one, staying under three minutes each: 10 seconds for healing, 2.5 minutes for chatting.
Most advanced healing items have limited daily uses, but rules didn’t apply to him. One after another, he healed without stopping. Before noon, more than half of the endless line had disappeared.
And those were severe cases—missing limbs, ruptured organs, last breath.
The waiting players grew visibly more relaxed, as if the recovered patients were carrying away everyone’s worries. Meanwhile, in secret, some players were sending messages.
Their messages went out in several different directions.
“Single healer. In three hours, treated 67 people, including 34 severe cases. Injuries include: internal ruptures, amputations, unknown toxins, curses…”
The reports were almost identical—so unbelievable they sounded fake. If not for the bribed informants swearing it was true, the recipients would think it was a prank.
Since when were high-level heals this cheap?
—
In another province, another city.
“Ahem… no wonder Sun Glory Guild moved. ”
The former leader of the Dongying Guild, Xu Haotian, had been kicked out for repeatedly making decisions that got members killed. The new leader, Zhu Jun’an, a refined man in his thirties with a sickly complexion and faint scent of herbs, calmly sipped his bitter brown medicinal soup.
“Where is Guo Jie?”
“Bring him back. It’s rude to visit someone empty-handed.”
—
In another city.
“Big sis, are we moving too?”
“Yes,” Zhuang Xiaomeng looked back at the apartment she’d lived in for over a year. “Have you ever seen a healer who can cure over fifty severely injured people in one stretch? And he’s not even famous yet. When he becomes famous, even foreign organizations will want him.”
“But we still don’t know how to contact him… or how to convince him to treat our members.”
“Everyone wants something. The question is—can we give it?”
Zhuang Xiaomeng smiled. “Since Sun Glory was so eager, he must be easy to get along with. All the more reason for us to act quickly.”
—
But another organization was even faster.
The neighboring city’s Research Guild had moved here two days earlier. Everything that happened in the abandoned kindergarten today was within their sight.
Vice-leader Zong Yao regretted not recognizing Jiang Jitang’s value earlier, not offering enough compensation—thus losing him to the officials.
But Zong Zheng didn’t think so.
Even with only one brief encounter, he knew that Jiang Jitang wasn’t some naive young man. If he chose to work with the government, it was after careful deliberation.
What Jiang Jitang wanted—private organizations simply couldn’t provide.
Seeing no chance for cooperation, Zong Zheng had decisively walked away.
But he never imagined the rough stone he dismissed would turn out to be a priceless gem—a gem so precious one would want to hide it away forever.
Too bad… It was already too late.
“Have they caught Guo Jie yet?” If you’re going to visit officially, you need a proper pretext.
—
Far away, none of this concerned Jiang Jitang—who was currently enjoying lunch.
It was lunch break. The chef had made four dishes and one soup—simple at first glance, but astonishingly delicious. If the environment were more suitable, he would’ve wanted to learn the recipes.
How did they make the tofu soup so fresh?!
After lunch, Minister Jiang happily walked in.
“The department just received a high-grade item—it can generate three exclusive BGM [2] cards per day. Want to try it?”
Other people just had equipment items—but this thing was basically an item factory. Even the serious minister was smiling, showing just how delighted she was.
“Is the BGM fixed?”
“It’s generated based on the user’s personal situation. Everyone gets a different one. But they all reflect the user’s recent state of mind.”
Intrigued, Jiang Jitang decided to try.
Ten minutes later, he stared at the BGM card “He Doesn’t Understand” (by Jason Zhang) in silence.
“His lies sound so sweet.
He’s fooled you more than once—
Not worth your heartbreak.
He doesn’t understand your feelings, he only pretends to be calm…”
BGM Card: “He Doesn’t Understand”
Exclusive to: Jiang Jitang
Duration: 3 minutes 23 seconds
Effect: Magic resistance +30%
Special ability “Skill Silence”:
As long as I don’t understand, you won’t hit me.
Note: Stop pretending you don’t know what you did!
Footnotes:
[1] Dianhong tea is a type of relatively high-end, gourmet Chinese red tea sometimes used in various tea blends and grown in Yunnan Province, China.
[2] BGM is a common acronym for background music, which is music played to create an atmosphere or mood in videos, films, video games, and other media.
