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Now reading: Chapter 854 - 854 854 Who Owns the Bloody Steamed Bun from Big Data Cultivation, a Fantasy novel by Chen Fengxiao.

Chapter 854: Chapter 854 Who Owns the Bloody Stead Bun Chapter 854: Chapter 854 Who Owns the Bloody Stead Bun Feng Jun’s mood at this mont was simply indescribable… You’re asking which hospital’s doctor I am?

Keep in mind, the “Foundation Establishnt Pill” he fed the driver could easily sell for fifty million, and it was the kind that’s only available “if the seller’s in the mood to sell more.”

He wasn’t looking for trouble, to begin with, let alone that nonsense about “greater power entails greater responsibility.”

Not to ntion, just take a look at those “People’s Hospitals.” Despite bearing the na of “the people,” if you don’t pay, see if they’ll treat you as one of “the people.”

But since he’d stumbled upon the accident, if he didn’t do sothing, he felt it would go against his true self. The Cultivation Path is about aligning with nature and following one’s true heart and intentions, so if he decided to heal, he would just do it.

Regardless, he pulled four people out of the car and treated them—honestly, if he hadn’t been the first one to walk down the slope, those two Good Samaritans might not have co down at all. Who doesn’t dread trouble these days?

And now, the other party even asked which hospital’s doctor he was.

Feng Jun was taken aback, then finally answered, “I’m not a doctor from any hospital.”

Upon hearing this, the woman imdiately beca frantic, “Then treating my husband and my niece… do you have a dical license?”

Feng Jun was taken aback, then finally answered, “No license, but your husband and niece were easier to treat, so I treated them first.”

The truth was, the driver’s life was not out of danger yet, but his internal bleeding wasn’t too severe. He could hold on for another seven or eight hours without much trouble, long enough to wait for a doctor.

The niece’s condition was the most critical. Besides the impact and abrasion injuries, the key issue was a broken cervical spine. If he had acted even a little later, high paraplegia would have been the least of the problems—there was a ninety percent chance she would have died.

And the techniques he used to treat her were more convenient and efficient, which is why Feng Jun treated her second.

Compared to her, the condition of the boy was also quite dangerous, but slightly better than that of the girl. The key issue was that his case was more complicated, making treatnt more troubleso, which was why Feng Jun attended to the boy last.

As for the woman in the passenger seat… she was truly lucky. The driver was her husband, who still tried to protect her as the car tumbled down the slope. Coupled with the airbags, she only suffered leg fractures.

Feng Jun didn’t even manage to get to her for treatnt.

Upon hearing this, the woman suddenly scread, “You’re not even a doctor and you treated us and gave us dicine?”

Feng Jun couldn’t be bothered to argue with her, his voice somber, “This little boy’s condition is quite serious. He needs to have his head bled, and he’ll lose a lot of blood. I just want to ask you one thing… do you trust or not?”

“That’s my son,” the woman shrieked, “You don’t have the qualifications to practice dicine, yet you’re going to operate on him, on what grounds?”

Feng Jun felt utterly baffled. I’d only offer help if I was confident, right? Do you really think so stupid piece of paper is more important than your son’s life?

Just then, a seventeen-eighteen-year-old boy ca up from behind him, speaking gravely, “Big brother, if she sues you for practicing dicine illegally, you could end up in jail.”

“Well then, can’t I just leave?” Feng Jun turned around to go, muttering, “If that boy’s head isn’t bled, he won’t last an hour… Take care yourselves.”

When the woman heard he wouldn’t last an hour, she panicked and shouted, “You stop right there!”

Feng Jun looked back at her coldly, “What are you? Just a passerby lending a hand… do I owe you sothing?”

After saying this, he swiftly walked up the hillside, quickly leaving in the rain.

He had casually saved so lives, but there were several cars stopped by the mountain road, with many people braving the rain to step out of their cars, all capturing this scene—this kind of original content would really stand out on social dia.

The woman in the passenger seat turned her head and glared fiercely at the seventeen-eighteen-year-old boy, “You just let him go like that?”

“Are you sick or sothing?” The boy rolled his eyes and lit a cigarette, his seventeen-eighteen-year-old self in the pri of defying everything, “He was on foot, unrelated to your car accident. He did you a favor by helping. Why shouldn’t he be allowed to leave?”

Two hours later, the ambulance arrived, but the twelve-thirteen-year-old boy had already breathed his last…

After Feng Jun returned to the manor, he didn’t feel very comfortable. He thought that what he encountered today fully demonstrated that good deeds don’t pay—I was just trying to help and hadn’t planned to charge you any ergency fees!

The next day it was still raining, and sotis the weather forecast, which didn’t predict earthquakes, could be quite accurate.

Feng Jun found it difficult to stir up his spirits. In his original plans, he was supposed to continue to Peach Blossom Valley today, to familiarize himself further with the control of the Soul-Suppressing Bell, but the car accident took away his interest in going there.

Thankfully, there was a bit of good news that day: Feng Jing had finally been successfully transferred to the Culture and Sports Bureau, responsible for bringing in foreign sponsorships and investnts—as long as she could attract sponsors, whether she showed up for work or not didn’t matter.

This policy turned the solemn Cultural and Sports Bureau into sothing resembling a bank—everything was negotiable as long as they could attract big clients.

Of course, for Teacher i in her current situation, it really didn’t matter whether she held a public office.

She wasn’t lacking ways to make money, and being with Feng Jun, she could get enough respect, not to ntion that in the eyes of those in the know, a core mber spot at Luohua Manor was far more precious than her civil servant status—at least that’s what Yang Yuxin thought.

But she still wanted to retain her public office, because… her mother believed that it was the right path.

i Jin was a very filial child who cared a lot about her mother’s opinions; if it weren’t for her mother’s opposition to her divorce, she would have been divorced long ago.

However, in the afternoon, Feng Jun encountered trouble.

Yuan Youwei, holding his mobile phone, rushed to him, “Uncle Feng… you’re on Weibo.”

Feng Jun had a Weibo account; there was a ti when he too wanted to be an internet celebrity and had soone “redirect” so followers to him, but later on… he really didn’t bother with that anymore.

Yuan Youwei followed a male perforr, strictly speaking, a male big V, whose ID was “Hong Daliang.” In his forties, known for his shocking statents, Hong was best at giving unsolicited advice in fields he knew nothing about.

Xiao Youwei, just in his teens, followed this figure almost old enough to be his grandfather, finding him bold and outspoken, a role model to learn from.

The Weibo post by Hong Daliang wasn’t original content, but a repost; it originated from a woman who had been in a car accident yesterday.

The woman claid that her family and niece encountered a car accident in Peach Blossom Valley, where an “unknown man” approached them, demanding “exorbitant dical fees” though “he was not licensed to practice dicine.”

The woman rejected the “unreasonable demand,” only to be left without assistance in “transporting her son to the roadside,” and endured “mockery and scorn,” which ultimately led to her “son’s untily death due to a delay in treatnt.”

She stated that rescuing the wounded and helping the dying is a traditional Chinese virtue; she personally could not comprehend such exploitative behavior in a crisis.

The woman ntioned that her son’s death was not inevitable, but the man’s harsh words were unbearable; “my child has always been spirited and couldn’t stand to see his mother mistreated, vomiting several mouthfuls of fresh blood on the spot”…

Hong Daliang reposted it and added a comnt, “The original poster is my assistant. Reposting to support a friend and justice. Such scum should not exist in this world, @Peaceful Zhengyang.”

The single Weibo post would have been no big deal, but it was accompanied by a photo, which seed to be taken from the roadside, not very clear, but with two images, vaguely depicting Feng Jun’s appearance.

What was crucial were Feng Jun’s clothes and build; Yuan Youwei, spending every day in Luohua Manor, recognized them at a glance.

Feng Jun checked the number of reposts; it wasn’t too many, just over five thousand, but that was indeed not a small number either.

The tagged Peaceful Zhengyang had not responded, which was normal for a public agency—it didn’t matter if the reply was late, but a wrong response would be a grave issue.

Feng Jun briefly looked at the comnts, saw nothing nice, and then glanced at Yuan Youwei with a stern face, “It’s fine for you to read it, why bring it to to be disgusted?”

Yet Yuan Youwei was quite curious; what puzzled him was why Uncle Feng would do such a thing, which did not align with his knowledge of him.

Feng Jun felt quite helpless and had no choice but to recount yesterday’s events once again, asking at the end, “Do you think there was a problem with what I did?”

Yuan Youwei certainly didn’t think there was a problem. At his age, when views on right and wrong are stark, he didn’t feel that it was wrong for Feng Jun to refrain from offering treatnt, “Deserved to die… Hong Daliang usually hits the nail on the head when it cos to issues, how could he be so confused this ti?”

As the two were talking, Li Ting also ca over and after understanding the cause and effect, she stated her position, “Youwei, don’t speak nonsense, that child was about your age and just gone like that… But twisting the truth like this is pointless.”

Feng Jun sighed, “Anyway, you just can’t be a good person these days.”

He was even embarrassed to say that he used a Foundation Establishnt Pill; considering that he sold a single pill for fifty million when helping Elder Peng restore his vitality, now giving one away for free and yet being slandered, it really couldn’t be more embarrassing if he spoke of it.

“I’ll handle this for you,” Li Ting said as she turned around; she was still counting on Feng Jun’s assistance should she encounter any trouble, “Relying on having a few followers to arbitrarily defa others, it’s ti to put an end to such low-cost saring tactics.”

The retired Yuan Zihao still had the Yuan Family’s influence and it wasn’t a problem for them to deal with an internet big V; moreover, Elder Peng and others were righteous indignation upon hearing the news—if Feng Jun stopped being a “good person” in the future, what would we do?

In fact, upholding justice wasn’t difficult for them; aside from Feng Jun, two other people had stepped in to rescue victims that day, and they had also posted on Weibo, including a seventeen- or eighteen-year-old boy.

The boy had clearly described the incident on Weibo, but unfortunately, he was not a big V, with rely forty or fifty followers, a repost count of five, and however over a hundred comnts.

Many comnts were from Hong Daliang’s followers; so accused him of speaking nonsense and others of chasing clout— “The national bad habit of profiting off others’ misery remains unchanged.”

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