"That's good," Brian Foster said, then fell silent again. They just waited like that until the sky gradually brightened; it was already past four o'clock.

"Ring ring ring..." A burst of phone ringing sounded, and Brian Foster hurriedly picked up the phone.

"Director, there's a critical patient outside, in life-threatening condition, and there are also a lot of police officers..."

"I'm coming right away..." Brian Foster put down the phone immediately and was about to head out.

"What happened?" At this moment, the door to the lounge suddenly opened, and Henry Brooks came out from inside.

Brian Foster quickly said, "There's an emergency, and it seems some police officers came along too. It might be a suspect or a police officer who's injured. You stay here and rest, I'll handle it."

"Let's go together," Henry Brooks said, grabbing one of Brian Foster's white coats from the coat rack and putting it on as he walked out. At this moment, Henry Brooks was just like an attending physician speaking to his subordinates—whether in his words, actions, or even a hint of command in his tone.

This feeling suddenly reminded Brian Foster of a friend of his, a military doctor who had participated in the International Red Cross. The efficiency and aura of action were truly very similar.

Both Brian Foster and Howard Sullivan were stunned. Brian Foster also found it strange—he used to avoid even internal hospital meetings and dodged any trouble, so what was going on today?

He didn't even have a chance to persuade him, so Brian Foster could only follow, with Howard Sullivan bringing up the rear.

"Hurry up, you absolutely can't let this person die..."

"Why is he still bleeding? What are you people in the hospital doing? Stop the bleeding, quickly!"

...

When Henry Brooks and Brian Foster arrived, the emergency room was already in chaos. Five or six police officers were gathered outside, and two on-duty doctors and two nurses were frantically busy.

But Henry Brooks noticed something else. Amidst the chaos, not far away, a female police officer stood by the emergency room entrance with a gloomy face. From a distance, it wasn't very clear, but she gave off a sense of loneliness.

Henry Brooks just glanced at her, then walked straight in.

"Director Fang, the patient's internal organs have ruptured and are bleeding heavily, with multiple injuries all over the body. The situation is extremely serious. We must examine him immediately and operate as soon as possible," the on-duty doctor Isaac Bennett hurried up to explain the situation when he saw Brian Foster arrive.

But to his surprise, just as he finished speaking, the young man who had come in with Director Fang had already walked up to the hospital bed and started pressing on the patient's body.

Isaac Bennett anxiously asked, "Who are you? What are you doing?"

"Rib fracture, puncturing the lung, massive pulmonary hemorrhage, spleen injury with bleeding, mild concussion..." Henry Brooks completely ignored all irrelevant matters. Even if there were planes, cannons, or a hail of bullets nearby, he wouldn't be affected, let alone someone talking—he simply ignored it.

Hearing what Henry Brooks was saying, Brian Foster was dumbfounded. What was this young master up to? This wasn't child's play. Although it wouldn't matter much if such a critically ill patient died, the troubling part was that he just took a quick look, touched a couple of times, and then made a diagnosis by feeling the pulse. If word got out that you could diagnose a rib fracture puncturing the lung and a concussion just by feeling the pulse, Changzhi Hospital would become famous.

"Director Fang, who is this? He looks familiar. Is he from our hospital? Is he your intern?" If he hadn't come in with Brian Foster, Isaac Bennett would have kicked him out already. What was he doing here, pretending to be an expert when he was clearly an outsider?

And the way he spoke—did he think he was the hospital director?

"He's... from our emergency department, just has been on leave for a while," Brian Foster replied, then quickly stepped forward and said, "Henry Brooks, let Isaac Bennett and the others handle this patient. First control the bleeding, then get an X-ray to confirm..."

Henry Brooks was a doctor, the chief medical officer of the federal government three hundred years in the future, the founder of human potential medicine and the nine-level physique, who enabled humanity to develop their own strength in the face of technological inferiority and avoid extinction. At the same time, he also possessed the memories of the second-generation rich kid Henry Brooks. Back in the ambulance, he could play the slick talker and use psychology to quickly lower the guard of Brian Foster and the others.

But he had worked his way up from a military doctor, serving for decades and holding the highest position in the Federation for nearly a century, able to handle all kinds of situations with composure.

When facing a patient, Henry Brooks's gaze was filled with absolute confidence and decisiveness. At this moment, he spoke like a general on the battlefield—his orders were law, and must be carried out. Here, he had absolute authority. Status, position, fame, and his own place—none of these mattered to Henry Brooks right now.

A military doctor's only goal is to save lives.

"It will take you at least twenty-five minutes to get the X-rays, and at least another ten minutes to get into the operating room and start surgery. With his current condition, there's absolutely no way he can last thirty-five minutes. We have to operate on him right now."

"You..." Isaac Bennett couldn't care about anything else at this point and said anxiously, "What gives you the right to say that? This is a major surgery—are you even qualified? I'm on duty today, so if anything happens, I'm responsible. You'd better step aside, this is none of your business. Rib puncturing the lung? Nonsense! If that were true, he'd already be dead."