Chapter 758 - 637: Youth of the Old District_3
Chapter 758: Chapter 637: Youth of the Old District_3
Besides, how many of those ’doctors’ running black clinics in the old town really have licenses?
Most of them spent a few years as apprentices to some old doctor, learned a bit of surface knowledge, and dared to come out and treat people.
Those lucky enough cured a few patients, and their reputation spread.
The unlucky ones ended up killing a few people, changed places and names, and started over.
If he could learn some basic medical knowledge, could he also open such a place?
Eric leaned against the bedhead, staring at the crack stretching from the corner of the wall to the window on the ceiling, pondering this question seriously.
He didn’t know whether that young man was a real doctor or a fake one.
But he knew there had never been any form of clinic on that street.
The nearest legitimate hospital was on the outskirts of the old town. The bus ride took fifty minutes, and the registration fees were ridiculously high, costing an average worker’s monthly salary for a single visit.
If he could open a clinic with cheap fees in the old town, even if it was a black clinic, there would undoubtedly be a lot of people willing to come.
Eric rolled over, burying his face in the pillow, and took a deep breath.
The pillow had a faint smell of machine oil that wouldn’t wash out.
First, save up money.
He thought.
Save enough money, find an old doctor willing to take on an apprentice, learn for two years, then...
Then we’ll see.
Outside, the sky in Wudu was eternally gray, obscuring the sun and tomorrow.
But at least he had a direction.
In the old bookstore, Jeming watched the young man’s departing figure with a slight curve on his lips.
He was just an ordinary young man.
His body wasn’t particularly strong, but there were no obvious diseases; his gaze wasn’t particularly sharp, but nor was it dull.
He seemed just like an ordinary person struggling to survive at the bottom of this city.
But in Jeming’s vision, the young man’s soul was excessively dazzling compared to others.
"Born with high perception... not sure if that’s a blessing or a curse in this world."
Jeming withdrew his gaze, picked up the newspaper on the table, and lay back into the rocking chair.
His identity was already arranged.
Four days ago, based on information from the minds of four bandits, he found several underground intermediary bases in the old town.
These intermediaries specialized in fake identities, fake documents, and black-market transactions.
They had vast connections; as long as there was money, anything could be done.
To be honest, Jeming wasn’t very skilled in soul-related witchcraft; he was more adept at direct reconstruction.
However, it wasn’t too troublesome to deal with.
Jeming simply engaged in a "friendly exchange" with them. In the face of an absolute strength gap, the wise always choose cooperation.
Jeming obtained a full set of legal identity documents from one intermediary.
Name, age, address, birth certificate, tax records... all information seamlessly woven, able to withstand any routine scrutiny.
He also acquired a significant sum of cash from another intermediary.
With the "voluntary donations" from those four individuals and "voluntary sponsorship" from the intermediaries, he had enough to settle down in this city for a long time.
Then he rented this house.
The location was perfect.
On the edge of the old town, with narrow streets, dense housing, and high population mobility.
The surrounding neighbors were mostly factory workers and dock laborers, early to depart and late to return, seldom concerned with others’ affairs.
Moreover, this house had been vacant for years; the landlord was eager to rent it out without demanding much deposit.
The first floor opened as this "old bookstore".
The second floor was where he lived.
And the basement...
Jeming stood up, pushed open the wooden door behind the bookshelf, and walked down a narrow staircase.
The basement wasn’t large, but it was enough.
The outermost part was a small clinic.
A check-up bed, a medicine cabinet, a set of simple surgical instruments.
The medicine cabinet held some commonly seen drugs from this plane: anti-inflammatory drugs, painkillers, anesthetics...
Most were purchased from the black market, and a few were self-formulated by Jeming.
His medical knowledge far surpassed the level of "doctors" in this world.
Anatomy, biology, pharmacology from the Wizard World, alchemy, meridian science, and the Essence, Qi, and Spirit theory from the Cultivation Immortality Realm.
These things combined made his medical abilities sufficient to crush any expert from a legitimate hospital.
Being Doctor Black, more than enough.
Further into the clinic was a seemingly unremarkable brick wall.
Jeming walked straight to it; the tightly knitted brick wall rippled like water waves.
Inside was a separate enclosed area, his temporary research lab.
Currently still quite rudimentary.
A broad stone workbench, several basic research devices extracted from the Inner Grotto Heaven: an Element microscope, Energy Detector, Rune engraving tools.
In the corner, some materials bought from local markets were piled up, glass containers, chemical reagents, and a few bizarre "specimens".
Those "specimens" were collected along the way to Wudu.
Several dangerous-level bizarre fragments, insufficient to form a complete individual, but adequate for preliminary law structure analysis.
Jeming walked to the workbench, picked up a weird fragment sealed in resin, and examined it closely under the light.
The dark gray shard shimmered under the light, its surface covered with fine, irregular markings.
These patterns displayed a highly complex structure at the microscopic level, neither resembling the orderly arrangement of crystals nor the random distribution of organic matter, but rather a state in between.