Chapter 32: But I Prefer Being Called Doctor Gao

Chapter 32: But I Prefer Being Called Doctor Gao

This novel is translated and hosted on bcatranslation

Yan Hua was an imposing figure, his stature so immense that when he stood, it was as if he absorbed all the light in the room, casting a formidable shadow. Beside him, Gao Ming seemed as delicate and vulnerable as a newborn bird, easily crushable with a mere flick of Yan Hua’s massive hand. Yet, paradoxically, those same hands, responsible for the ruin of numerous faces in countless fights, were now strangely hesitant, frozen in mid-air for reasons unknown.

Yan Hua, celebrated as the “Broker’s Hand,” was a legend in the underground boxing world. With thirteen unbroken victories, his name was synonymous with invincibility. It was unheard of for him to show any hesitation or doubt in the face of confrontation.The debut release of this chapter happened at Ñòv€l-B1n.

Inherently, Yan Hua wasn’t an evil man by the usual standards. But if left to follow the trajectory of his life as dictated by the original game storyline, his overpowering violent impulses and the gradual erosion of his moral compass would inevitably lead him down a path of destruction, transforming him into one of the most feared killers in Hanhai.

“You can train your body to be as hard as steel, but it’s futile if your soul remains shackled by the traumas of your past,” Gao Ming stated, leaning back in his chair. Despite his shirt clinging to his skin with cold sweat, his demeanor was calm, almost expectantly so. “Resorting to violence and killing won’t provide you with the security you’re seeking. It will only warp you more.”

“Who told you these things?” Yan Hua demanded, his suit straining at the seams, embellished with menacing ghostly patterns that made him look like a fiend from the depths of hell.

“Your sister, Yan Ling,” Gao Ming replied nonchalantly, lighting a cigarette. “Why don’t we sit down and discuss this?”

At the mention of his sister’s name, a flicker of disbelief crossed Yan Hua’s eyes, and his face softened involuntarily. Yan Ling’s name was sacred to him, a beacon in the darkness of his childhood. The few warm memories he cherished were all thanks to her, those sporadic bursts of joy helping him survive into adulthood.

“Is she... still alive?” Yan Hua found himself sitting down, almost unconsciously, swayed by Gao Ming’s suggestion.

“Yes, and she asked me to look after you, to help alleviate your suffering and guide you towards a life of your own,” Gao Ming revealed.

“Where is she now? Take me to her!” Yan Hua’s belief in Gao Ming was instant; only his sister knew the depths of his troubled childhood, and only someone she trusted could be privy to such intimate details of their painful shared history.

As Gao Ming’s sleeve brushed against the table, a glimpse of a black ring on his wrist became visible. “I long to see her too, but she’s trapped in another place. We can only reach that dark, hidden world through certain extraordinary events.”

“What are you talking about?” Yan Hua’s brow furrowed, beginning to wonder if Gao Ming was the one who had lost his mind.

“A calamity filled with horror and supernatural forces is about to descend upon our city. Spirits and monsters could emerge at any moment. We are on the brink of a great catastrophe.”

Yan Hua found himself at a complete loss for words. The ideas Gao Ming presented were so bizarre and outlandish that they perplexed even someone like Yan Hua, who had been on the fringes of sanity. After a lengthy, contemplative silence, Yan Hua slightly shook his head in disbelief. “Enough with the cryptic talk. Just tell me what I need to do.”

“When you awoke today, you should have seen a black and white obituary photograph near you. That’s crucial evidence,” Gao Ming explained calmly, taking a sip of hot water. “I made a promise to your sister that I would take care of you, to assist you with your mental struggles. All you need to do is follow my treatment plan and wait for my updates.”

“And how long will this waiting last?”

After finishing their noodles, Zhu Miao Miao took the wheel and drove Gao Ming towards St. Louis College in the Eastern District.

This particular college held a unique place in Hanhai’s educational landscape. Funded years ago by donations from various sectors under the auspices of the Hanhai Charity Association, it had once been a prestigious institution. However, over the years, its academic standards had deteriorated significantly, leading to its reputation as one of the most disordered private schools in Hanhai.

The Eastern District was a paradoxical mix of Hanhai’s most affluent and its most impoverished residents. Many low-income families, unable to afford the exorbitant fees of private elite schools and without access to public school spots, were left with no option but to send their children to a place like St. Louis College.

“Hello, we’re from the Lishan Investigation Bureau. We need to ask about an incident,” Zhu Miao Miao said as they approached the school’s security booth. The elderly guard, however, seemed somewhat hard of hearing, more engrossed in the newspaper than in their questions.

Sensing the need for a different approach, Gao Ming took out five hundred dollars and extended it through the window. “Was there a high school senior attacked in an alley here last night?”

The guard’s eyes lit up at the sight of the money, and he reached for it. But before he could grab it, Gao Ming seized his hand.

“Eh?” The guard tried to pull away, but Gao Ming’s grip was firm. “What do you want?”

“Show us yesterday’s surveillance footage and tell us everything about the incident. The kid’s in danger!” Gao Ming’s voice was stern, his expression grave.

With some persuasion from Gao Ming, the elderly guard began to cooperate. However, it became apparent that parts of the previous day’s surveillance footage had been mysteriously deleted.

“Deleting surveillance footage to erase evidence, that’s a bold move,” Gao Ming commented with a cold, humorless smile. It was a grim reminder of how tragedies, which might have been averted, were often exacerbated by a chain of careless or malevolent actions, pushing the victims further into a chasm of despair.

The guard’s actions hinted at a possibility that he was acting under someone else’s orders, prioritizing personal gain or fear over moral responsibility. He may have rationalized to himself that he wasn’t directly involved in any heinous act, but in essence, by erasing evidence, he had inadvertently become an accomplice to the wrongdoing.

As they entered the school, Gao Ming, using the information provided by the Investigation Bureau, led the way to the high school section located on the third floor.

“Gao Ming, don’t you think we’re being a bit too intrusive, just storming in here like this?” Zhu Miao Miao’s realization was dawning as to why Chief Chen had insisted she accompany Gao Ming. Without her oversight, this investigator might take some unorthodox, if not outright reckless, steps.

“He’s not in any of the classrooms,” Gao Ming remarked, his demeanor resembling that of a strict new head teacher. He stopped briefly at each classroom window on the third floor, surveying the students with such intensity that it unsettled not just them, but also the teachers conducting their lessons.

“Shouldn’t we at least touch base with the school administration first?”

Feeling increasingly anxious about their unannounced presence, Zhu Miao Miao tugged at Gao Ming’s sleeve, attempting to guide him away. However, it was at that moment that they overheard a male student’s voice emanating from the restroom.

“Come on, get your phone out and record this! Wan Qiu sneaked into the girls’ restroom during class! What a creep!”