A Shaman Doctor’s Live Diagnosis Stream! 96p1

Chapter 96 Part 1

[Seriously? So bad at the game that a single ID triggers PTSD?]

[Uncle Middle Wu, I’ll carry you next time, I don’t mind you being a noob, just ask Doctor Wu to give me some more medicine.]
[Poor Zheng Feiran, his eyes stolen, and now, although he can see again, he’s nearsighted.]

[So many internet-addicted ghosts in the underworld. I heard it’s like the 80s and 90s down there, lots of business opportunities, I’ll go into that industry after I die.]

Even Chen Ying joined the comments, offering to play with Wu Su, being called a noob by a ghost, embarrassing for the human race.

Wu Su’s face was red with anger. You Jin, seeing this, quickly pulled him away. “Uncle Wu Su, don’t bother with that blind ghost! Why don’t you go check on those pigs in the backyard?”

He used to take care of the younger one, now the older one, truly raising both father and son.

Wu Su, still grumbling, went to check on the pigs.

Shi Xuan glared at the whimpering ghost, “Who taught you to speak like that?”

The ghost immediately quieted down, not even daring to cry out in pain, inwardly cursing Shi Xuan.

Not even your father! The shaman doctor didn’t even say anything, and this guy, not even human, was defending that loser!

Wu Heng offered a sincere suggestion, “Be careful with your words, you might end up in the Tongue-Pulling Hell”

[Translator’s Note: According to Chinese mythology, Tongue-Pulling Hell is a place of punishment for those who have committed sins of speech, such as lying or slander.]

Then turning to Zheng Feiran, “About four hundred degrees of nearsightedness, not too bad. I’ll give you a prescription, roast the herbs, grind them into powder, wrap them in white cloth, soak it in warm water, and apply it to your eyes, ten minutes, twice a day, you’ll recover in a week.”

Wu Heng sat back at Zheng Feiran’s desk and started writing.

Zhou Yi’s eyes lit up behind his thick glasses, “Xiao Heng, this works for severe myopia too?”

He was planning to ask Wu Heng after his exams, but now? Just a few minutes every day?

Wu Heng, writing, nodded, “Less than a thousand degrees, it’s a minor ailment.”

[My trembling hands, I want this! So badly!]

[Doctor Wu, please sell this! I don’t want LASIK.]
[LASIK clinics are doomed, a five-figure surgery with potential side effects, I’m too scared.]

Wu Heng wasn’t interested in this small profit, not compared to curing those supernatural diseases. “I’ll sell the patches online after the new year, a few hundred yuan each, not expensive.”

He finished writing and gave the overjoyed family the prescription.

After ending the connection, Wu Heng turned to the ghost, “Who taught you to steal organs? Harming people is easy, but using their organs? That’s not something just any practitioner can do. A Heavenly Master? Or a deceased Taoist doctor?”

Like in the human world, becoming a skilled doctor took years of training, same in the underworld, and with Yin energy readily available, there weren’t many doctors there, and organ transplants weren’t some common skill for even Heavenly Masters, it required a specialized Taoist doctor.

The ghost shifted uncomfortably, mumbling, unable to answer.

Shi Xuan, his voice cold and sharp, “Answer him.”

The ghost cowered under the invisible pressure, a single word escaping its throat, “Xuan…”

Then it screamed, a bloodcurdling shriek, as blue-green flames engulfed it, the temperature in the room plummeting.

The Zheng family quickly shielded him, their hands covering their mouths, stunned.

Shi Xuan immediately pulled Wu Heng behind him, he knew such flames would harm him, a living person, but not him, he was a being of Yin.

With a wave of his hand, a powerful force, he extinguished the flames.

Wu Heng peeked out, thankfully his dad didn’t see this, another nickname for Shi Xuan, besides “vacuum cleaner for ghosts” now, “fire hydrant.”

The ghost, however, was covered in blisters, its mouth blackened, unconscious.

Shi Xuan looked at Wu Heng calmly, “Still need to ask?”

Wu Heng shook his head, “I know who it is now.” He grabbed a sheet of xuan paper (used for Chinese calligraphy and painting), folded it into a pyramid, poked a hole, and trapped the ghost inside, ready to be delivered to Lai Jun as another merit point.

Wu Heng’s face was grim, he understood. Ghosts craved what they lacked. Those without organs were easy targets for manipulation, a promise of organs in exchange for their service, even a guarantee, if injured, they could take whatever they needed from the living!

An eye for an eye, a leg for a leg, an endless supply of… spare parts.

And those Heavenly Masters couldn’t do this, only Taoist doctors, those versed in both metaphysics and medicine, and now that he was back in this world, his family, his friends, and… he glanced at Shi Xuan, his lips curving slightly…

He wouldn’t let this happen.

He turned to the Zheng family. “It’s over, let’s go.”

The family, snapping out of their daze, escorted them to the door, Father Zheng promising to transfer the payment immediately.

Wu Heng held up the painting. “This is payment enough,” the one of him performing the Nuo opera.

Zheng Feiran murmured, “This painting isn’t worth much.”

He had painted it from imagination, but now, seeing the real Wu Heng, he felt it was a pale imitation.

“Gifts, you can send gifts,” Zheng Feiran, regaining his composure, his gaze returning from the ghost-filled street outside, picked up his phone and sent a barrage of gifts, instantly topping Wu Heng’s rankings.

Having been blind, he had only listened to his live streams before, never seeing them.

Seeing the grayscale screen, he figured it was a glitch.

Wu Heng and Shi Xuan walked back, not cycling this time, Wu Heng’s hand in his, a leisurely stroll.

“I have something to tell you, during the Lunar New Year break,” Shi Xuan said.

Wu Heng nodded. “Okay.”

The gates of hell would open during certain festivals, the Hungry Ghost Festival being the most significant. But even during ordinary holidays, spirits with living relatives could return.

And New Year’s Eve, the last day of the year, was approaching.

Preparations for the new year had already begun, the festive atmosphere strong in Nan Nuo.

In Nan Nuo, on New Year’s Eve, families would light incense, set out offerings, and open their doors, inviting their ancestors to join their reunion dinner.

They reached the well and quickly returned to Nan Nuo.

Noisy chatter and flashing lights came from the back mountain.

“Xiao Heng, going somewhere?” Zhou Da Gui, putting on his jacket and hat, his voice tired, caught up to them, having been woken by Zhou Yi’s father, something had happened again.

He then noticed their clasped hands, “Are you two…?”

Wu Heng said calmly, “His hand is cold.”

He wasn’t lying. Shi Xuan, that human air conditioner, always cold, his entire being radiating Yin qi, except for his breath, practically a corpse, how could his hand be warm?

Zhou Da Gui, having no time for gossip, hurried towards the back mountain.

“Butcher Luo and the police are there. Something happened.” He sighed, these ghosts and spirits always causing trouble at night, the elderly couldn’t catch a break.

“Xiao Heng, Lunar New Year is approaching, is there anything we can do? Bad luck to have incidents during the new year.”

Wu Heng thought for a moment. “Have the villagers buy more firecrackers.”

Firecrackers, now mostly for celebration, were originally used to ward off evil and welcome deities.

Easy. There were no restrictions on fireworks in their rural village.

As they entered the mountain, they heard a villager wailing.

Wang Jun and his officers looked grim.

Just as Zhou Dagui was about to ask, the villager, kneeling on the ground, suddenly stood up and cried, “Village Chief, our son’s grave, it’s been dug up!”