Chapter 24: Dragoncry Middle School (Part One) Part 1

Yun Xueqing heard the person push open the operating room door and walk in. The rustling sounds of the surgical gown being donned were right by his ear.

The doctor diligently sprayed disinfectant on his hands, as if he were truly about to perform a normal surgery.

A shadow loomed over his head, and cool fingertips gently stroked it, seemingly judging the best spot on the skull to make the incision.

The scalpel swayed before his eyes, emitting a gleaming silver light. Yun Xueqing desperately tried to control his body, attempting to move his fingers and snatch the knife from the other.

Yet, in the end, he could not overcome the powerful anesthetic. Willpower was no match for the physical drug; his fingers remained utterly immobile.

Just as the other’s knife was about to descend upon his head, a flash of inspiration struck Yun Xueqing. He remembered the Ten-Sided Die he had obtained from the Calamity God in the previous domain.

If it was something from the Calamity God, could it resist this monster?

He had no idea how to use the die, but with nothing to lose, he used his divine sense to call out to the die stored in his Storage Space.

As expected of something from the Calamity God, tainted with foul energy and sensing its master’s desperate desire, the die immediately stirred restlessly.

A reaction meant there was hope. With his life hanging by a thread, Yun Xueqing calmed down instead, focusing his efforts on maneuvering the die out of the Storage Space.

But before he could succeed, the doctor overhead suddenly spoke: “Are you afraid?”

Yun Xueqing’s nerves were stretched taut, and he failed to notice how familiar the voice sounded.

Receiving no response, the other plucked a lock of his long hair and severed it with the scalpel, carefully tucking it into his pocket. “Human Useless Soft Tissue Collective Removal Surgery—success.”

Yun Xueqing’s pupils contracted slightly. With some surprise, he said, “Fu Wuxuan?”

The doctor removed his mask, revealing a handsome face.

His skin was fair, his features deep and defined, with a smooth jawline. But what drew the eye most were the deep-set sockets beneath which lay a pair of peach-blossom eyes, shimmering with allure even without a smile.

Fu Wuxuan smiled, tossing the mask casually into the trash bin. His peach-blossom eyes curved slightly. “It’s me.”

Yun Xueqing said nothing.

Fu Wuxuan helped him up from the operating table and leaned him against the bedrail, his tone gentle. “Are you angry?”

In hindsight, he realized his joke had gone a bit too far.

As he pondered an apology, Yun Xueqing suddenly said, “No, I’m glad it was you who came.”

Rather than the real monster intent on drilling a hole in his forehead.

He asked Fu Wuxuan, “And your identity is?”

“As you see,” Fu Wuxuan laughed. “Doctor.”

Yun Xueqing nodded and exchanged the information he currently knew.

Fu Wuxuan mused thoughtfully, “If you’re Number 23, then at least fifty Oracles entered this Weird Domain this time.”

A mere ordinary B-Rank Weird Domain wouldn’t attract so many Oracles.

There had to be something in this Weird Domain.

He looked at Yun Xueqing. “I rushed ahead of the other doctors to perform your surgery. I originally planned to at least make it look real—shave your head, make a wound—but now that I’ve seen you, I really can’t bear to.”

The nurses hadn’t put a surgical cap on Yun Xueqing. His waist-length hair cascaded down, his pale skin contrasting with the black locks, his expression cold and detached—it was strikingly eye-catching.

Fu Wuxuan averted his gaze first. “Stay in the operating room a bit longer to avoid raising suspicions.”

With that, he picked up the bandages from the surgical table and wrapped two layers around Yun Xueqing’s head as camouflage.

Perhaps from his habit of bandaging himself, his technique was skilled, layered neatly. On Yun Xueqing’s already slender frame, the two loops of bandage not only didn’t look ugly but added a touch of frail vulnerability.

Yun Xueqing stared at Fu Wuxuan until the other began to feel slightly uneasy, then slowly asked, “You’re not wrapping bandages anymore?”

Fu Wuxuan chuckled mockingly. “You’ve been staring at me this whole time just to ask that?”

He feigned a sigh. “No need. Even with bandages, people who know me would recognize me at a glance.”

Those who hadn’t seen him wouldn’t know he was the infamous Dong Jun, even if he stood right in front of them.

Yun Xueqing guessed it had to do with Number 25 in the ward, so he asked, “You have a deep grudge with Shen Qing?”

Fu Wuxuan looked somewhat helpless. “You’ve already met Shen Qing?”

Yun Xueqing drawled slowly, “Not really met—just crossed paths once.”

The other nodded thoughtfully. “I have a grudge with him. You’d best avoid contact; he might target you.”

“What grudge?”

Fu Wuxuan said breezily, “He’s the High Priest’s number one toxic stan.”

“Toxic stan?”

Fu Wuxuan rephrased, “He’s the world’s biggest High Priest fanboy.”

Yun Xueqing was momentarily speechless.

If it was to that extent, then Fu Wuxuan might truly be Shen Qing’s mortal enemy.

He changed the subject. “They all call you Dong Jun. Is that your courtesy name?”

“No,” Fu Wuxuan nearly laughed. He hadn’t expected Yun Xueqing to be so immersed in the act. Unable to resist joking, he said, “Actually, I’m a reincarnator. My name in my previous life was Fu Wuxuan; in this life, I’m called Dong Jun. Reborn once, I’ll take back everything that belongs to me!”

Yun Xueqing nodded in realization. “I see—a reincarnator.”

Fu Wuxuan: “…You actually believe that?”

“No,” Yun Xueqing said something even more outlandish. “I can sense your soul has no abnormalities; reincarnation isn’t possible.”

Fu Wuxuan laughed in exasperation. “It was a joke. Dong Jun is my code name in the Divine Temple. My real name is Fu Wuxuan.”

Dong Jun was the name the High Priest had given him.

The sun was the Divine Temple’s emblem, and Dong Jun signified the sun—carrying the High Priest’s fond wishes and heavy expectations for him.

The Divine Temple’s High Priest declared Dong Jun the savior of the apocalypse, the hope of the end times.

And so Dong Jun became the savior as wished.

As he carried out more Divine Temple missions, the people remembered Savior Dong Jun and began to praise his name.

His real name was forgotten.

Yun Xueqing nodded. “Alright, Fu Wuxuan.”

Fu Wuxuan felt a slight stir in his heart but covered it by glancing at the clock on the wall. “It’s about time.”

He pushed open the operating room door, lifted Yun Xueqing onto the gurney, and let two nurses wheel him away.

The anesthetic’s effects hadn’t worn off yet; it would take at least six hours to metabolize fully. Yun Xueqing still couldn’t move, his body stiff as others manipulated him.

But this time, he felt no fear—only unprecedented relief.

Lying on the gurney, he gazed at Fu Wuxuan pushing it. From this angle, he couldn’t see the man’s full face, only his defined jawline.

Yun Xueqing watched for a moment before looking away.

When he was sent back to the ward, Ye Xuechun hurriedly said, “You’re okay, Xueqing!”

Rarely addressed so familiarly, Yun Xueqing felt a bit uncomfortable but still replied, “I’m fine.”

Ye Xuechun seemed to breathe a sigh of relief. Seeing Fu Wuxuan enter behind, his expression immediately turned wary.

In the hospital, doctors and nurses were the greatest enemies—they were most likely to mutate into Weird.

Fu Wuxuan glanced at Ye Xuechun on the bed and raised a brow. “Ye the big star?”

Ye Xuechun said in surprise, “You know me?”

“No,” Fu Wuxuan denied. “Seen you on TV.”

With the apocalypse’s arrival, most network systems were destroyed, and the entertainment industry declined.

But in turbulent times, spiritual idols were needed more than ever. One entertainment company hyped “the last singer of the apocalypse”—Ye Xuechun.

Ye Xuechun was a bit muddled, but he had a fine voice. His songs were warm and healing, reassuring, earning him a huge fanbase even in the end times.

Fu Wuxuan had seen him sing on TV during a mission break.

His tastes were refined; he rated Ye Xuechun’s singing average and, in a very straight-man guess, figured the healing effect came from his innate Oracle ability to soothe people.

Though muddled, Ye Xuechun vaguely sensed the other was an Oracle. “You’re really lucky—randomly assigned as a doctor.”

Certain Weird Domains assigned entrants specific identities to fully immerse them, intensifying mental corruption until they forgot their true selves and were devoured by the domain.

Yun Xueqing noticed the time on the ward clock. “Your surgery time is coming up.”

Ye Xuechun waved it off nonchalantly. “The doctor doing my main surgery fell and broke his leg on the stairs. The others had no openings, so mine’s postponed to tomorrow.”

Yun Xueqing: “…Maybe you’re the truly lucky one.”

“Really?” Ye Xuechun scratched his head. “I’ve always been pretty lucky.”

“Let’s get out of here first,” Yun Xueqing said, instinctively glancing at Bed 25. It was empty; Shen Qing wasn’t there.

Ye Xuechun followed his gaze and explained proactively, “That Shen Qing guy got an opening with the main surgeon early, so he went ahead with surgery.”

The extreme gap between the lucky and the unlucky.

Fu Wuxuan chuckled lightly. “Still so down on his luck… He has plenty of ways to save himself. We don’t need to worry about him—let’s escape first.”

Just as he finished speaking, the sound of a small cart approached from afar.

A nurse pushed the door open, holding an IV bag, her tone icy. “Time for a med change.”

Fu Wuxuan complied smoothly. “I’ll handle it. You go rest first.”

The nurse then noticed him. “Doctor Fu, surgery done? That fast.”

She emphasized the last three words heavily, laced with intimidation—enough to scare the timid.

Fu Wuxuan smiled faintly, playing the part perfectly. He took the pen from his pocket, ticked off her checklist, then snatched the clipboard and boldly wrote “All Normal” in big characters.

Ignoring her ashen face, he grinned. “I’m an elite talent back from overseas studies. A mere Skull Perforation Surgery is a piece of cake—done in no time.”

Away from home, identities were self-made; bluffing sufficed.

The nurse, unsatisfied, stared at Yun Xueqing’s wound. “No blood seeping from his head.”

Impossible from good bandaging—her sensitive nose detected no enticing bloody scent in the room!

“Oh, that,” Fu Wuxuan’s smile widened, veering toward deranged. “Couldn’t hold back during surgery—too fragrant. Licked it clean.”

The nurse paused, her expression softening. She gave him a thumbs-up, her tone even warming. “In that case, Doctor Fu, I’ll check the next room. Look after 25 for now.”

Fu Wuxuan smiled mildly as a chrysanthemum. “My honor.”