Chosen: Beyond Fate

“Let me introduce you two. This is the newest member of our infectious diseases specialty treatment team, just introduced through Mr. Qian’s recommendation.” The hospital director waved enthusiastically toward the newcomer behind him. “He arrived a few weeks after you, so you could even call him your junior. Come on, say hello to your senior.”

“Alright,” Ji Jue replied, looking directly at Lian Cheng. With a friendly smile, he extended his hand and waited for Lian Cheng to take it.

A suffocating pressure and sudden panic surged within Lian Cheng’s chest. His heart jolted, and for an instant, his vision seemed to blur. The gentle smile vanished. In its place remained only a skeletal face, eternally wreathed in flames and surrounded by countless red remnants of spirits.

Then, just as quickly, the hallucination faded away. All that remained was Ji Jue’s outstretched hand, quietly waiting for Lian Cheng without the slightest waver, as though he could wait until the end of time, when the seas ran dry and the rocks crumbled.

Lian Cheng snapped back to his senses, his hand twitching slightly as he lifted it. But before he could fully extend it, Ji Jue’s hand had already reached forward enthusiastically and gripped his fingers. Ji Jue’s hand was so warm, and yet so forceful, like a hydraulic press offering its very first greeting to its soon-to-be victim.

“Hello, High Priest,” Ji Jue said.

He yanked Lian Cheng a step forward, then he spread his arms enthusiastically and embraced him in an unusually close hug. While patting his shoulder, he leaned in close to his ear and whispered, “You’re next.”

Lian Cheng’s expression froze. His body spasmed.

Ji Jue released his hand. He took a step back on his own initiative, as if nothing had happened, and returned to the director’s side now that greetings were out of the way.

Ji Jue looked at Lian Cheng. Both men wore smiles. One stiff and forced, the other calm and composed. Behind those smiles, their eyes told entirely different stories. A gaze of rage and shock met a gaze of coldness and malice.

Just as quickly, everything returned to silence. Behind Lian Cheng’s back, his right hand, nearly numb from pain, clenched into a fist. Veins bulged across the back of it as fury surged through him.

Fuck! Fuck! Fuck...

He lowered his head, restraining the killing intent and rage that were about to erupt. Then he quietly mixed in with the group.

***

Lian Cheng forgot how he even made it to the meeting room. Shock and fury had left his mind completely blank for a while. He moved like a walking corpse, mechanically following whatever arrangements were made.

Like everyone else, he listened to speeches and directives, and clapped on cue. In the end, he took out the report he had prepared in advance and began presenting it. His voice sounded hollow and fragmented, no longer carrying any of its former passion.

“To summarize, after applying the new treatment method, the patients’ condition has shown encouraging progress...”

Just as everyone was focused on listening and applauding with satisfaction, someone cut in. “Ahem, one moment.”

Everyone turned toward the speaker with displeasure, frowning faintly as they looked at the newcomer who had the audacity to interrupt.

“Sorry, I know it’s not appropriate to speak now, but as a doctor, I have to be responsible for the patients’ condition,” Ji Jue said. He raised his hand, straightening the lapel of his white coat. “I have only one question...”

He paused, looking around at everyone with a solemn expression. “Does this treatment method actually work?”

Lian Cheng’s expression darkened. Before anyone else could respond, he seized this critical opening to strike first and force this guy out of the Special Treatment Team in one go. “Everyone here has seen it with their own eyes. Are you suggesting it’s all fake? If you don’t know what you’re talking about, then stop wasting everyone’s time. Every minute, every second you delay us, patients are suffering!”

All the doctors at the meeting nodded. It was obvious they were aware of the widespread withering of limbs and rotting symptoms appearing in the patients. But before Lian Cheng could continue, Mr. Qian lifted his head to reprimand him coldly. “You’re new here. You brought your eyes and ears, so use them. Watch, listen, and learn. This isn’t your place to speak.”

Lian Cheng froze. The outrage he had carefully put on display faltered for a moment. It sounded as if Mr. Qian was trying to protect Ji Jue instead of reprimanding him.

Was this for real? Even he was almost amused by the thought. An aberrant from the Time Ruin protecting an outsider? Ridiculous.

Ji Jue showed no intention of taking the hint and backing down while he still had the chance. Instead, he flipped through the files and reports in his hands and calmly stated, “So far, not a single patient has been cured, right? Everyone has fused together to the point that it’s difficult to tell one individual from another. But isn’t that exactly the problem? How can we determine that this treatment is actually effective, rather than simply increasing the patients’ suffering?”

The meeting room, which had been filled with anger and displeasure, began to stir with faint murmurs, fueled by doubt and hesitation.

Mr. Qian raised his voice. Blood vessels surfaced in his pitch-black eyes. Raising his voice, he said, “I already told you this isn’t your place to speak! One more word, and I’ll kick you out!”

“Hold on, Mr. Qian,” the director said.

The speaker this time was the hospital director, who had remained silent all along. He slowly lifted his heavy, downcast face, as if deep in thought. No one else dared speak up.

“Your concerns are not without reason. However, the current treatment method has already surpassed previous attempts by a wide margin and achieved many results. Even if we haven’t been successful yet, I believe it’s only a matter of time. After all, recovering from illness is like pulling a silk thread from a cocoon[1]. These patients have suffered from incurable conditions for so many years that their situation is deeply entrenched. We must have patience.”

He paused. On his inhuman face, several eyes slowly widened, flashing with a cold light as they fixed tightly on Ji Jue. His voice turned icy. “But, since you’ve said so much, do you perhaps have some brilliant insight? Why not share it so we can all discuss it together?”

Mr. Qian raised his brows, as if he wanted to speak, but under the director’s gaze, he ultimately closed his mouth.

Under the scrutiny of all those cold stares, Ji Jue remained calm, smiling even. He raised a finger.

“Brilliant insight would be too much to claim. I just have a small suggestion. As everyone said, the patients have been ill for far too long. Their conditions have become deeply entrenched. Recovery is slow and difficult, and curing them is no simple matter...” After a brief pause, his smile grew gentler. “But if that’s the case, then why not try treating a mild case instead?”

The director froze.

Ji Jue nodded. “That’s right. Find a patient whose condition isn’t severe and treat them using the current method.”

He spread his arms, looking around at the stunned faces. “If that patient can be cured, wouldn’t that prove the treatment is both effective and reliable?”

Lian Cheng could no longer hold himself back. In a surge of rage, he slammed the table and stood up, pointing at Ji Jue as he roared, “Complete nonsense! All the patients have already fused into one mass. Where are you even supposed to find a separate—”

But before he could finish, a sudden chill ran down his spine. A deep, bone-piercing chill overtook him.

This is bad...

“Isn’t it simple?” Ji Jue looked at him with a smile, his expression filled with admiration, anticipation, and even a sense of encouragement. “Naturally, the person who came up with the treatment should be the one to prove it works.”

Lian Cheng couldn’t move. Just as he was about to speak, Ji Jue asked, “Or are you saying that, as a doctor, you don’t even have the confidence to personally verify your own treatment method?”

He slowly stood up, placing both hands on the table as he leaned forward. Across the uncomfortably narrow table, he finally revealed the intent beneath that smile of his. “Or could it be... that even you don’t truly believe it will work?”

“Of course that’s not the case!” Lian Cheng retorted, feeling sweat drip down his nape. His eyes widened reflexively as he barked out the denial, as though he were trying to convince himself as much as everyone else. He hurriedly tried to change the subject, to deflect the conversation, or perhaps drag someone else down into the mud with him. “B-but...”

Before he could do that, he was interrupted again by Ji Jue. And this time, he could barely believe what Ji Jue was saying. As if he understood Lian Cheng’s difficulties, he said, “That’s true. Clinical trials aren’t something that can be handled so casually. We can’t suddenly demand that the doctor who proposed the treatment personally prove its effectiveness. That would be far too harsh.”

After saying that, Ji Jue turned back to look at him, as if suddenly enlightened. “Wait a second... surely you’re not suggesting that whoever raises the objection should be the one responsible for testing it?”

Lian Cheng’s face flushed red, consumed by an anger he had never felt before in his life.

You motherf▇! I’ll f▇ing kill you, you son of a ▇[2]! Those are my lines! Every single one of those arguments was supposed to be mine! Every. Single. One!

If this wasn’t a meeting room, Lian Cheng would have already lunged at Ji Jue in blind fury. But even this reaction seemed to have been anticipated by the other man.

As his heart sank deeper into despair, Lian Cheng was overwhelmed by confusion and emptiness, followed by doubt and disbelief. What emerged in the end was... fear, because Ji Jue said, “Alright. No problem. I agree. How about this? I’m willing to receive the inoculation for the Undying Disease together with you, and serve as the placebo control group in the clinical trial.”

He spread his arms wide, as if bathed in an invisible holy light, offering everything he had with pious solemnity to the white tower. This was the sacrifice of Isaac, the burnt offering of Abraham. He was doing it for the sake of curing the patients, and for the sake of granting the sick a peaceful death and final release.

A new doctor had stepped forward voluntarily, agreeing to live experimentation, standing on the moral high ground as he looked down at everyone below. He asked, “In that case, you shouldn’t have any objections, right?”

Lian Cheng remained completely petrified. Only his eyes kept twitching uncontrollably as his face spasmed. In the dead silence, someone could be heard sobbing faintly. Along with the stifled weeping, tears slowly fell from the director’s eyes.

It wasn’t just the director. Everyone lowered their heads. From their faces, thin trails of bloody tears slowly slid down. They were so moved that they could not even put it into words.

“Every generation produces its own talents. The waves behind drive the waves ahead. I’m getting old, I really am. Mr. Qian, well done. Well done! You’ve trained an excellent doctor!”

The aberrant doctors wept openly, their voices breaking. Their expressions shifted through relief, admiration, agreement, and deep emotion. Unable to contain themselves, they applauded this great act of sacrifice. Finally, one after another, pairs of feverish eyes turned back toward Lian Cheng.

Lian Cheng opened his mouth several times, but no words came out. His eyes were wide with rage and disbelief.

1. “病去如抽丝” is a traditional Chinese saying, often paired with “病来如山倒” ("Illness strikes like a collapsing mountain"). The phrase literally means "when an illness leaves, it is like drawing out silk." Just as a silk thread must be pulled out slowly and carefully, recovery from illness is usually a gradual process that cannot be rushed. The saying emphasizes that while sickness can appear suddenly and severely, healing often takes time, patience, and steady treatment. It is commonly used to explain why recovery is slow and why attempting to force a quick cure can lead to setbacks or relapse. ☜

2. Note, we don’t usually censor profanity here in WW, but this is how the author wrote the original line (with the ▇), and I wanted to preserve the nature of what the author wrote. It just feels more funny to have a literal black box censoring the profanity XD ☜