The other people's injuries were much simpler, just bumps and scrapes. Basically, David Harris just went over to ask and confirm, and in less than five minutes, David Harris was already looking at the bus driver: "Alright, let's go."

"Oh, o-okay." The driver was still drenched in sweat, hurriedly wiping his forehead, only then realizing his clothes were soaked through. The air conditioning on the bus was completely useless at this point.

"No one is allowed to leave." At this moment, the white-haired guy whose arm David Harris had fixed first shouted, pulling out his phone: "I need to go to the hospital for a checkup to make sure my arm is really fine. I don't want some quack doctor leaving me with aftereffects. If you run off now, who am I supposed to go to later? Damn it..."

The white-haired guy could tell that, except for himself, no one else was really hurt. One person had a sprained wrist, but after David Harris pressed it a few times, he was fine. So the more he watched, the more annoyed he got, feeling resentful inside.

"What's with this guy? The doctor fixed your arm and you..."

"Your arm was just dislocated, and now it's fine, isn't it?"

"I haven't even said anything." The guy whose face had been covered in blood earlier had already wiped it off with a wet tissue.

"Young people these days..."

"Young man, this doctor helped you. Instead of thanking him, how can you say something like that?"

...

The more people said this, the more embarrassed the white-haired guy felt, his face heating up, even getting agitated. Whoever spoke, he glared at them, looking like he was ready to fight. He thought to himself, even though he had just arrived in Shenzhen-Hong Kong and hadn't established himself yet, after all these years, he wasn't afraid of these people.

Most others didn't want trouble, so seeing him like this, they stopped talking.

The white-haired guy, still acting aggressive, looked at David Harris: "Doctors these days are all damn crooks. Don't think I don't know. You really think you're some miracle doctor? There are medical accidents in hospitals every day. My arm still fucking hurts. Come with me to the hospital for a checkup."

Chapter 3: Shh!!

The people around immediately understood that this white-haired guy was just looking for trouble, being a rascal. And if you looked closely, you’d see tattoos on his chest and arm, and he looked ready to start a fight. The crowd, being ordinary folks, all tried to avoid getting involved. Though they felt David Harris was being treated unfairly, no one said anything more, just looked at David Harris with sympathy.

The bald man wanted to speak up, but in the end held back—better to avoid trouble. He just sighed inwardly, thinking this young doctor really had a thankless job, running into such a scoundrel.

Julia Reed saw all of this. She had bumped her head a little, and David Harris had come over to check on her earlier. But from the start, what caught Julia Reed's attention wasn't David Harris himself, but his clothes and the bag he was carrying.

Julia Reed had studied in the UK and stayed with an elderly couple in a small town near her school. Next to her college was a large, well-established clothing factory, producing the most luxurious garments. But up until she graduated, she had never seen that brand's clothes on the market. She wondered how the factory could survive, but according to the locals, it had been around for over a hundred years. She couldn't figure it out, and never expected to see that unique logo on his bag today.

Julia Reed remembered asking the old couple why no one had ever heard of the luxury goods produced by that factory. The answer was, in the past, only emperors and queens used those things—how could ordinary people know about them? It was a pity that queens were no longer so noble, but there were still such people in the world.

Julia Reed thought to herself, could this person be one of those people, someone with the right to wear and use things made by that factory?

Julia Reed could only guess, but she would never have imagined that the items from that factory could only be used by David Harris, the eldest son and grandson, and that the factory existed solely for him.

Looking at the white-haired guy trying to mess with him, David Harris suddenly felt like laughing. In the past, whether in the African jungle or on the battlefield as a mercenary, it was always about fighting and killing. This time, he saved someone in passing, and now someone was trying to scam him. So, they wanted to extort him? Fine, how naive.

"Start driving. We'll talk about where to go once we're in the city. You, come here, let's have a chat." David Harris waved at the white-haired guy, already heading to the front seat.

The people sitting there saw David Harris coming and moved to the back.

The white-haired guy saw that David Harris was ignoring him and staying so calm, and his earlier bravado faded a lot. Hearing David Harris say this, he felt like it was a negotiation. He thought, I'm on the run from enemies, why should I be afraid of you?

He sat down next to David Harris, deliberately unbuttoning a few buttons to expose his shoulder: "See? It still hurts. So what are you going to do about it? If you don't give me an explanation today, this isn't over."