Deadly Miracle Doctor

Shanghai, Jimin Hospital.

“Dr. Chu! We… we might not be able to save this patient.” The nurse stared at the flat line on the monitor, her eyes brimming with despair.

Chu Feng glanced at her and said, “Why all the fuss? I’m the surgeon in charge. If the patient dies, it’s not your responsibility.”

The nurse nodded slightly. She was just an assistant, after all. Still, Chu Feng’s calm and collected demeanor left her feeling uneasy.

As Chu Feng’s assistant, she’d witnessed scenes like this more than once. Even after so many times, she still struggled to understand this strange man.

Over the past months, whenever Chu Feng was the chief surgeon, hardly a single patient survived—there were more than a dozen who hadn’t made it. Other doctors whispered behind his back that his scalpel wasn’t a surgical tool, but rather the scythe of the Grim Reaper!

Despite his low success rate, Chu Feng was revered as a miracle worker among the city’s elite and powerful. They flocked to him, undeterred by his reputation.

This paradox was something the young nurse simply couldn’t comprehend.

Chu Feng, naturally, noticed her complicated expression. But such things—especially the opinions of others—hardly concerned him.

He released the deceased patient’s arm and glanced at his wristwatch.

The dial was peculiar, spinning rapidly. After twenty-five revolutions, it stopped, and the number on the face changed from twenty-five to fifty.

“At last, I’ve absorbed another. Heaven is truly unfair—good people die young, yet someone as wicked a