“Just call me Henry Brooks, that way I can be a bit more casual when I’m with everyone.” There wasn’t much about Henry Brooks’s identity that really needed to be hidden; all the main leaders in the hospital knew, but the people below them were still in the dark.

Brian Foster and Howard Sullivan both nodded repeatedly. By this time, the car had already stopped in the hospital courtyard. Brian Foster said, “There’s no one on duty in the hospital’s motor pool right now. How about I have an ambulance take you back to rest?”

Henry Brooks waved his hand and said, “Isn’t there a bed in the inner room of the emergency department? I’ll just go there.”

As he spoke, Henry Brooks had already opened the door and gotten out, heading straight for the chief’s on-duty office in the emergency department. Brian Foster hurried to catch up, quickly moving ahead to open the door for Henry Brooks.

“I’ll go in and lie down for a bit. If anything comes up, just call me.” Henry Brooks said, “Director Foster, I’m on duty with you tonight, so make sure to mark me down!”

“Of course, of course, I’ll mark you down,” Brian Foster replied with a smile, watching Henry Brooks enter the inner lounge before slumping into a chair himself, exhausted. Howard Sullivan leaned against the wall, letting out a long sigh.

Just moments ago, Henry Brooks had been joking around like some spoiled rich kid, but once he entered the lounge, his expression suddenly darkened. The look in his eyes was no longer that of a carefree, devil-may-care playboy; instead, it was deep and solemn.

Henry Brooks slowly lay down on the bed, letting his thoughts gradually settle. How did he end up here? How did he become this Henry Brooks?

He should be on the front lines, at the very forefront of the Federation. He was the Federation’s Chief Medical Officer, the only person in the Federation’s twenty-one-level system on par with the Federation President.

He had risen from a military doctor during Earth’s chaotic war era to become the Federation government’s Chief Medical Officer, pioneering the medical officer system. He had led the Federation government down a brand new path despite technological backwardness. This time, he had just captured a new experimental subject—a cultivator—and was planning to use the maximum energy collision on the battlefield to complete a brand new experiment. If it succeeded, his original nine-level physique system would be rewritten, allowing humanity’s bodies to make a qualitative leap.

His last memory was of a massive explosion, which instantly knocked him unconscious. When he woke up, he had become this spoiled rich kid. Henry Brooks—he had the same name, but from his memories, all he could see was gambling, street racing, drinking, fighting, dating celebrities...

As the Federation’s Chief Medical Officer, as the creator of the nine-level human physique, to return three hundred years to become a second-generation rich kid like this—it was baffling. To borrow a phrase popular in this era, science couldn’t explain it.

He had actually been reborn into the body of such a playboy. The only thing that brought Henry Brooks a bit of comfort was the smell in the hospital.

This was a smell that no longer existed in hospitals three hundred years in the future, but to him, it was so familiar. By then, hospitals had completely changed, and this scent was gone. Judging by today’s date, he should have been born a hundred years from now, and after sixty years of hard work, he had created the nine-level physique and potential studies, among other things that changed the human body and extended human life.

When Earth faced a crisis and the Federation government was established, he had also created the medical officer system.

As he thought about all this, Henry Brooks felt a wave of fatigue and drowsiness. This body was just too weak—not even a third of a first-level physique from his own era. Ever since he had created potential medicine and the nine-level physique, a first-level physique in his time was considered severely disabled. But three hundred years ago, a first-level physique was just a normal, average person. For this body to be so frail, he really did need a good rest. No matter what, he was still a doctor. When he woke up, the first thing he had to do was improve this feeble body.

For better or worse, he was now back three hundred years in the past. He’d have to readjust and adapt. As a former military doctor, Henry Brooks knew one thing best: in any situation, survival comes first—everything else comes after.

Chapter Two: The Military Doctor’s Style

While Henry Brooks slept inside, outside, Brian Foster and Howard Sullivan were suffering through a painful wait. Brian Foster sat there for nearly half an hour, still a bit dazed.

“Xiao Wang, got any left?” Brian Foster made a gesture as if holding a cigarette.

Howard Sullivan only had one pack, and shook his head, but he reacted quickly: “Director, I’ve got more in my wardrobe. I’ll go get them right now.”

“Hurry up.”

Howard Sullivan nodded and jogged out the door.

A moment later, he came back with the cigarettes. After what they’d just been through, Howard Sullivan and Brian Foster felt much closer, and the two of them started smoking together, one cigarette each. Time crawled by. As the on-duty director, he usually wasn’t disturbed unless something major happened. Most of the time, he’d just sleep in the lounge while on duty, but now Brian Foster actually wished there was something to do.

Because Henry Brooks was inside, he couldn’t just leave.

The pack of cigarettes was almost gone when Brian Foster thought for a moment and reminded him again: “Little Howard, even though Young Master Brooks already gave instructions about today, I still want to remind you—whether it’s what happened today or Young Master Brooks’s identity, after today, just forget it all. Do your job as usual and work hard.”

Howard Sullivan nodded quickly. “Don’t worry, Director, I know where the line is.”