Many people held pens and notebooks, even voice recorders, taking notes while talking with patients and nurses, extracting anything useful for themselves.

Communication among peers is not just about finding each other's shortcomings, but also about learning from each other's strengths.

Since ancient times, doctors have had the least sectarian bias and rarely kept secrets to themselves. Exchanges within the medical community are even more open, so even after dynastic changes and wars, when talent is lost and skills are forgotten, it is always the medical profession that recovers first.

While the visiting doctors in the inpatient department were interacting with patients, Dean Carter received a phone call. He quickly frowned, and his expression became somewhat strange.

After putting down the phone, Dean Carter looked at Abraham Lincoln and beckoned him over.

“Director, is something wrong?”

Abraham Lincoln walked over.

“Xiao Li, you don’t need to come to work for the next few days.”

Seeing that Abraham Lincoln’s hair had returned to normal, Edward Carter’s gaze softened considerably.

“Director, did I do something wrong?”

Abraham Lincoln’s heart leapt—his first thought was that Dean Carter was going to fire him. Could it be that the old man had been planning this for a while and finally seized the opportunity yesterday?

What rotten luck!

After an unexpected trip to another world, to lose his job like this would be too much of a waste.

“Uh! You didn’t do anything wrong, don’t overthink it!” Dean Carter shook his head and continued, “It’s someone else’s fault, but I’m afraid you’ll have to take the blame. But don’t worry, if the sky falls, the hospital and I will hold it up. We won’t let you suffer any injustice.”

Secretly breathing a sigh of relief, Abraham Lincoln tentatively asked, “Director, what exactly is going on?”

Dean Carter looked around and whispered, “The diagnostic assessment you did yesterday afternoon has been maliciously spread online. I’m afraid some people who don’t know the truth might do something irrational. I’m giving you a month of paid leave—take a good rest for a while.”

He sensed a hint of unusual conspiracy in all this, suspecting that things were not as simple as what he’d been told on the phone.

“What? Something like that happened?”

Abraham Lincoln suspected it was more than just people not knowing the truth, otherwise Dean Carter wouldn’t be so troubled and have to use leave to protect him.

From the moment he issued the assessment report, no matter who re-examined that rich second generation William Foster, the result would be the same. The Foster Family had gotten what they deserved—one reaps what one sows.

“Someone just called me. The cyber police at the Public Security Bureau found that someone is deliberately hyping the topic online and directing the blame at you. The tech team is trying to locate and block those links. Until the storm passes, it’s best if you don’t come to the hospital.”

Dean Carter only revealed part of the situation, keeping secret the news that someone had reported Abraham Lincoln for accepting bribes from The Foster Family and helping William Foster escape legal responsibility.

In the recording of the assessment process, Abraham Lincoln’s refusal of William Foster’s monetary temptation was crystal clear. With a clear conscience, there was no need to fear any investigation.

As for the suspect William Foster’s bribery attempt during the assessment, since he was already a psychiatric patient with no or limited civil capacity, and the bribe was unsuccessful, there was nothing to pursue afterward. At most, a few The Foster Family bodyguards would be detained as scapegoats, which wouldn’t really hurt The Foster Family.

“All right! Thank you, Director!”

Abraham Lincoln could only accept Dean Carter’s kindness.

Not kicking him out and leaving him to fend for himself—being able to take paid leave at this point was already considerable protection.

However, Abraham Lincoln wasn’t worried at all about those misled bystanders or the malicious troublemakers. Not only had he been forewarned and was prepared, but he also now had a way to restore his cultivation, so he feared those despicable tactics even less.

“Go on, then!”

Brian Carter greatly admired this young man’s composure in the face of trouble. It wasn’t just because of his master’s degree—those who achieve great things must have a calm demeanor, while those who lose their composure will accomplish nothing.

Just as Abraham Lincoln returned to the fourth floor of the outpatient building, ready to pack up and leave, he saw chaos in the corridor: more than a dozen security guards surrounded five burly men.

Dr. Ethan Brooks was slumped on the ground, his head and face covered in blood, howling like a pig being slaughtered: “It wasn’t me, it wasn’t me!”

“Beat this dog doctor to death, The Foster Family’s lackey!”

“Accomplices will die a bad death!”

“Utterly heartless, unfit to be a doctor.”

The five men being surrounded kept cursing. Even the security guards, some of whom were former special forces, found it difficult to subdue them without causing injury. Some patients and their families kept their distance, afraid of getting caught up in the chaos.

Because of its specialty, the Seventh People’s Hospital rarely experienced medical disputes. What was happening in the fourth-floor corridor was clearly not a typical case of medical trouble.

When Ethan Brooks saw the stunned Abraham Lincoln, he immediately pointed at him and shrieked.

“It’s him, that’s him, he’s Abraham Lincoln!”

Heaven knows, before he could even react, he’d been beaten up on someone else’s behalf. Now that the real target was back, only seeing him get beaten up too would make him feel better.

Abraham Lincoln finally realized that these five burly men were actually after him. Dean Carter had just warned him, and now trouble had come knocking.