Not Something Money Can Buy

Not Something Money Can Buy

"Bang!"

A wisp of blue smoke drifted by.

Everyone outside the office gaped in shock.

The teacup in the old man's hand inside the office nearly fell to the floor.

Mo Ran stared at his pierced palm, frozen in place.

"I said, I don't have time." Wang Wen held a tiny, toy-like silver pistol in his hand.

The on-duty members of the Intelligence Department swarmed forward, grabbing medicine, cleaning the wound, and bandaging it.

In the midst of the bustle, the gazes cast toward Wang Wen were incredibly complex.

Mo Ran let his team members fuss over his blood-drenched palm, seemingly unable to feel the pain, and asked Wang Wen blankly: "Why did you use a gun?"

"Oh, this." Wang Wen calmly put away the small silver pistol: "Given my outstanding and exceptional contributions to the Guard Department, and having been attacked by a knife-wielding thug, they specially issued me this mini for self-defense."

Mo Ran still asked blankly: "Why did you use a gun?"

Wang Wen looked puzzled: "???"

"This was supposed to be a martial arts spar; even if you used hidden weapons, it would be fine." Mo Ran suddenly raised his voice and shouted angrily at Wang Wen: "Why did you use a gun!!"

"It's the fastest way." Wang Wen lowered his body to pick up the shell casing from the floor, blowing on it because it was hot, and explained to those around him: "Every bullet issued by the Guard Department has a unique serial number."

As he explained, he stepped past Mo Ran and walked forward, digging the bullet head out of the opposite wall: "I have to keep them safe; if I lose one and something happens later, it will all be blamed on me."

After putting the bullet head away and turning around, he saw Mo Ran, who had been a distance away, standing right in front of him.

Wang Wen narrowed his eyes and waited quietly.

He heard the other man's voice blow out like a freezing polar wind: "You look down on me."

Wang Wen shook his head, drew his gun, and cocked it.

This time, the muzzle pointed straight at the center of the other man's brow.

With his forehead pressed against the muzzle, Mo Ran stared at Wang Wen as if cross-eyed, and said coldly: "At this distance, your gun isn't faster than me."

Wang Wen seemed not to believe it and pulled the trigger directly.

"Bang!"

Almost before the gunshot rang out, the figure aimed at by the muzzle had already vanished.

A massive pressure surged toward his right cheek, and a faint, sharp glint flashed between the attacker's fist and fingers.

For the first time in a long while, Wang Wen felt danger.

He closed his eyes instantly.

"Boom!"

The Intelligence Department lobby felt as if a gas tank had exploded.

A wild shockwave kicked up a large amount of paper, wood, and stone debris; nearby walls cracked one after another, and the floor at the center of the explosion shattered, exposing the steel structural plates beneath.

The crowd that had been watching the excitement suffered collateral damage, with "stray bullets" carving lines of blood into their skin.

They hurriedly retreated, hiding behind desks, not daring to face the impact head-on.

After a few breaths, the aftershocks slowly dissipated.

At the center of the explosion, Wang Wen turned around and looked quietly at the fist before him.

If anyone were standing nearby to look closely, they could see that Mo Ran's fist and the tip of Wang Wen's nose were only half a centimeter apart.

It was precisely this half-centimeter distance that prevented Mo Ran from advancing any further, no matter how much force he exerted.

The next second, his arm hung down powerlessly.

His face pale, he looked at Wang Wen: "A master of mental power??"

Wang Wen asked him expressionlessly: "Are you satisfied?"

Mo Ran raised his other hand: "I can pull off an attack of that intensity one more time. What about you?"

Wang Wen narrowed his eyes.

"That's enough." At the door of the Department Head's office, the old man walked out unhurriedly.

Standing before the two, he first glanced at Mo Ran's hanging right hand and said indifferently: "Go rest."

Mo Ran obediently lowered his head and stepped back.

Someone entered the Intelligence Department's main gate; the old man went up to meet them, and a moment later, he returned with a dark-colored box, handed it to Wang Wen, and said: "Go save them."

Wang Wen opened the box, inside which lay a porcelain bottle. He removed the seal of the bottle and rolled out a wax pill the size of a soybean.

He closed his eyes once more.

A breeze brushed past his hand, gently covering the entire wax pill.

When he opened his eyes, Wang Wen nodded and thanked the old man: "Thank you, I owe you a favor."

After finishing his sentence, he lifted his leg and walked out the door of the Intelligence Department.

The moment he turned, his nasal cavity could no longer hold back a surge of bright red blood.

Wang Wen pressed his clothes against his nose, feeling a sliver of relief regarding his current physical constitution.

At the very least, he hadn't uncontrollably passed out again.

He left the First Consortium building while clutching his nose.

Returning to the hospital operating room.

The doctor at the entrance was saying something to the boy's mother.

Wang Wen rushed over and heard her silent, suppressed wails trapped deep in her throat.

The doctor recognized Wang Wen and said in a low, somber voice, "We did our best, please accept our..."

"I got the medicine, try one more time!" Wang Wen pulled the doctor back into the operating room without allowing for any argument.

Seeing the thin, lifeless boy on the operating table with the ventilator already removed, Wang Wen took out a porcelain bottle and said to the doctor, "World Tower floor 500, Great Restoration Golden Pill! Find a way to feed it to him!"

Upon hearing the words "floor 500," the doctor was shocked into a daze: "Where would such a thing exist? The highest record is only..."

He couldn't finish his sentence, as the other party had "handed" the porcelain bottle so close it was practically shoved into his nostrils.

"Sigh, fine, let's give it a try." The doctor poured the wax pill from the bottle into a clean container, cut open the outer wax shell, and retrieved the yellowish-brown pill.

With the help of an assistant, he fed it into the thin boy's mouth along with a small spoonful of glucose water.

Before the assistant could even release the boy's jaw, a flash of visible golden light flickered within his mouth.

The next second, the golden light spread to every wound on his body, as if coating him in a layer of golden liquid that pulsed with vitality.

As the golden light pulsed, the flat line on the monitor began to show a faint fluctuation.

The boy gradually resumed breathing.

It was as if the person lying there wasn't a dying patient, but merely a sleepy child.

The nurses and assistants in the room widened their eyes and clenched their fists.

The doctor carefully examined the boy's body, then stood up and shook his head in amazement: "This is nothing short of a miracle!"

He looked up.

Gazing at Wang Wen, who was smiling by the door, his tone was filled with immense emotion: "He is already out of danger."

Outside the ward.

Watching the medical staff connect various instruments and IV drips to the boy sleeping soundly on the hospital bed.

The boy's mother grabbed the doctor's hand and thanked him profusely.

The doctor said somewhat awkwardly, "Actually, we didn't do much."

Wang Wen interjected, "If you hadn't provided emergency care to buy time, no amount of items could have saved him."

The doctor smiled kindly at Wang Wen and gestured to the boy's mother: "He is the one you should truly be thanking. If not for the precious medicine he brought, we would have been powerless."

The boy's mother grabbed Wang Wen's hand and shook it vigorously: "Wang Wen, come over to our house later, Auntie will cook fish for you!"

The commotion finally settled down.

The doctor caught up to Wang Wen, who was planning to leave the hospital, and asked, "That kind of pill, do you have any more? If possible, our hospital would like to purchase one for research; name your price."

Wang Wen shrugged helplessly: "It's a rare item from the 500th floor of the World Tower, a bottom-of-the-barrel treasure from the First Consortium. I can't get a second one; you can try talking to them."

As soon as the doctor heard the name First Consortium, the hopeful look in his eyes dimmed.

He sighed and turned to leave: "The First Consortium, huh? Then that's not something money can buy."

Wang Wen smiled, standing outside the hospital gate, watching the setting sun sink in the west. He recalled the boy's mother saying, "Tell Auntie how much those used medicines cost; I'll sell everything I own to pay you back!"

He shook his head silently.

He thought to himself:

"That really isn't something money can buy!"