[The Girls' School Teacher] (Episode 16, Chapter 1)

Episode 16: Another Storm Unfolds

Synopsis: What is the power of the seven-colored poison from the most mysterious tribe in Africa that it has even put North America's

top healer in a predicament?

During surgery, Junxiong encounters another terrifying event: a super explosive paradise appears, violently exploding the hospital building.

Are the thieves truly so ruthless?

The director of Washington National Hospital, having learned of Nak's whereabouts, personally comes to

plead for Junxiong's return to America. Will his wish be fulfilled?

Just when it seemed the storm was about to subside, only a few days after Junxiong returned to Tokyo, the most brutal

police-criminal battle in Hokkaido's history suddenly unfolds, plunging Sapporo into panic. In this critical moment, for the sake of justice and

peace, the Justice Holy War Group once again resolutely mobilizes!

Chapter 1: The Seven-Colored Poison

"The seven-colored poison!"

Entering the operating room, I

could what kind of poison was coated on the bullet.

I calmly walked to the operating table and gestured for a nurse to remove her socks.

A suppressed gasp immediately rose from the surrounding area.

What they saw was that Mrs. Linda's soles had turned a deep blue.

However, these people didn't know that what they saw was only part of the story. Besides these four colors, Mrs. Linda's

buttocks should have been blue, her bones orange, and her heart purple.

These seven colors appearing on the human body could only mean one thing—the Seven-Colored Poison!

The Seven-Colored Poison is one of the three most potent poisons of the oldest Kamisad tribe in Africa.

Legend has it that those poisoned will die within a day, and no one can save them. Because the Kamisad tribe lives in seclusion in

the Kilimanjaro Mountains, this poison has hardly spread. Even I, a renowned healer, have only heard of it once from

González .

No wonder they couldn't see it; such strange and bizarre toxicity cannot be judged by conventional methods.

As Western medicine, we can only explain it as a chemical toxin, and even analysis of the flesh and blood eroded by the toxin

yields no results.

Like the ancient Chinese civilization, African civilization is another ancient civilization on Earth that has not been extinct. The Kamisad

tribe is said to have a history of at least four thousand years. The Kilimanjaro Mountains, the largest mountain range in Africa, have always been their

home. This place, known as their backyard, is only open to the public in a small area;

anyone who enters uninvited is killed without mercy.

How could a mysterious African tribe be involved with the assassins who murdered the wife of a four-star US general?

I vaguely sense that there is something I don't know about this. The assassins must have something big on their hands. Mrs.

Linda 's assassination is not the end, but very likely the beginning of a storm.

Time is of the essence now; I can't afford to think things through slowly. I have to gather my thoughts and focus

my attention on treatment.

Legend has it that the various poisons of the Kamisad tribe are all collected from Mount Kilimanjaro, and their variety is exceptionally vast. The fact that they consider the Seven-Colored Poison one of the three most potent poisons speaks volumes about

its power . Many tribal chiefs in Africa

have perished from this poison, despite the best efforts of shamans and doctors.

I, however, smiled proudly. The more difficult the surgery, the more it tests a person's abilities. The

reason , am known as a divine physician is because I possess abilities beyond the reach of ordinary people.

"Ready?" I asked, looking around.

Kyoka and Tominaga Akira stood to my left and right, respectively. They would be my main assistants. Four top-notch nurses awaited instructions

beside , and six more stood beside the various instruments

, not daring to slack off. If it weren't for the urgency, I would have brought Nanako and the other three as well

. They are familiar with my methods, and this is the benefit of long-term cooperation.

"Yes, ready," everyone nodded in unison.

"Don't be so nervous." I raised my hand and said calmly, "Once I'm in the operating room, there's no

patient I can't save. You should all have the same confidence as me."

"Yes."

The voices were still a little hurried and nervous, but much better than before. The surgeon

's calmness and confidence directly gave the assistants confidence. Besides, standing in front of them was

an idol worshipped by doctors and nurses all over the world. What was there to worry about?

"Then let's begin!" I looked around again. "I'm counting on you all."

"Yes, I'm counting on you all!" The surgery began. I first reopened the wound that wasn't completely stitched up.

Because I had treated it beforehand, the bleeding wasn't serious. I just needed to maintain blood transfusions and monitor blood

pressure .

For this kind of non-physical poisoning injury, open surgery was not advisable. You can't

just remove the lungs if there's poison in them, or cut out the heart if there's poison in it, can you?

However, to gain a more detailed understanding of Mrs. Linda's poisoning, I had to

resort close observation of her internal organs to examine the transformation and attack of the toxins, and

to determine the effectiveness of the medications I was about to administer. Mrs. Linda's wound was in her lower left abdomen, which was fortunate, as it was

located near . Had it been in the liver, heart, lungs, or stomach, she probably wouldn't have survived this long.

The bullet had strong penetrating power, directly piercing a small hole in Mrs. Linda's body. Because of this,

only a small opening remained inside her body, and the bullet had no explosive force, leaving no spent casings.

In general, aside from the toxin's corrosive effects, the damage caused by the bullet was negligible.

I carefully observed Mrs. Linda's body; the toxins were indeed spreading rapidly. I kept

poking at her with a scalpel, rattling off a long list of medications. Tominaga Akira and Kyoka were struggling to keep up with the flow of medications,

and the nurses filling the IV bags were overwhelmed by the sheer number and complexity of the drugs.

In just a few minutes, I experimented with hundreds of drugs, constantly observing her body's reactions.

The effects were obvious; the toxins were spreading throughout Mrs. Linda's body. There were

seven types , each color representing a different poison, and each type was rapidly developing its own toxicity. Mrs. Linda...

The reason she was still breathing was because the seven toxins maintained a delicate balance. Once any one of them broke

through, the other two would immediately turn against her.

Those around her could also see this; Mrs. Linda's breathing and condition hadn't improved at all due to the medication

. In fact, according to the electrocardiogram and other monitoring equipment, her body was weakening further

.

A moment later, I stopped what I was doing, quickly stitched up the incision, and

ordered a wound lamp to be brought to aid healing.

Everyone looked at me with suspicion. I said calmly, "Conventional medical methods are no longer effective in treating

Mrs. ."

Hearing my words, everyone's hearts sank. Even the world's second-best doctor couldn't help her?

At that moment, they weren't thinking about the injured woman's condition, but rather the pessimism and disappointment caused by witnessing the shattering of an idol

.

"Now, everyone except Kyoka, get out." I said to everyone, "Remember, no matter

what happens outside, no one is allowed to come in without my call, understand?"

"Huh?" Tominaga Akira reacted the fastest, "Sir, are you going to use your unique skill to treat her?"

Everyone perked up immediately, looking at me expectantly.

"Yes." I said succinctly, "Go out, remember my words."

"Okay! Please take good care of us, sir. We'll wait outside the operating room. Please don't hesitate

to ask if you need anything." Tominaga Akira said respectfully and strode out. In addition to the core surgical treatment

room, the operating room also had other waiting areas, anesthesia areas, cleaning areas, etc., so they waited

outside .

I didn't explain to them at all, and no one asked any questions. Every good doctor has their own

unique skills, which is what makes them different from other doctors. Such skills are naturally

not easily shown to others, and everyone understands.

On the contrary, such extraordinary skills only added to the aura surrounding these divine healers. Being able to do what others cannot is what earns

them admiration… Whether one can learn them depends entirely on fate; it cannot be forced in the slightest.

After they left, I asked Kyoka and me to clean ourselves first, then we changed our gloves and surgical gowns together.

Then I gestured for her to sit down on the chair next to me.

“What should we do now?” Kyoka asked excitedly. At that moment, she didn’t see me as her husband,

but rather as Dr. Nak, the top surgeon in North America.

As a junior doctor, witnessing a divine healer’s miraculous healing hands was an indescribable stroke of luck.

"Wait a moment, her wound still needs some time to heal." I checked the time and patiently explained

, "Traditional Chinese medicine and Western medicine are very different. After surgery, the body's energy leaks out, but I'm using my true energy

to expel the poison from her body. I have to maintain an overall balance, which is like a ruptured balloon. If I input true energy

into it , it won't cure her; instead, it will cause the balloon to explode."

"Junxiong, are you planning to use your magical true energy to expel the poison?" Kyoka had watched TV before, including

several martial arts dramas by the Hong Kong author Chingmy Yau, and with my previous explanation, her reaction wasn't

slow.

"Yes, but we need to wait a little longer for her wound to heal better." I smiled and

said , "Before that, you should rest for a bit. I saw you didn't even dare to blink just now, you

must be exhausted."

"I'm not tired." Kyoka's pretty face was covered by a mask, but her big eyes were still full of cleverness:

"Let me give you a massage so you can work harder later."

"No need." I took her hand and let her lean against me: "Just rest for a while.

With my wife leaning on my shoulder, I feel full of energy."

"Pfft..." Kyoka gave me a rare sideways glance, leaning softly on my shoulder, but her eyes were looking towards

Mrs. Linda: "Junxiong... are you confident?"

"Yes." I didn't hide anything. First, I told her what the "Seven-Colored Poison" was, and then I said, "The seven

toxins have penetrated deep into Mrs. Linda's body. If we use surgery, we definitely can't remove these poisoned areas,

so we can only use true qi to expel the toxins."

"But didn't you say that the seven toxins maintain a delicate balance, and that disrupting that balance would immediately

backfire ?" Kyoka asked doubtfully.

"That's right, that's right." I praised the beauty, "Kyoka, in this respect, you've already

qualified to be a proper doctor, grasping the most crucial point here."

"Dr. Nak, you haven't answered my question yet," Kyoka said, her big eyes sparkling.

"I don't yet have

the " I said seriously. "But I can first use my inner energy to envelop the seven toxins, and then

break them down one by one. The whole process will be completed over several days. This way, I can avoid triggering a backlash from the toxins and also take care of Mrs.

Linda 's physical condition."

"Hehe, that sounds very mysterious," Kyoka said like a curious child. "But Toshio, it

doesn't seem like I'm involved at all. Why are you keeping me here?"

"Because you're my wife, I don't need to hide my treatment method from you," I said, holding her

small hand. "Besides, with you by my side, I feel much stronger and my skills have improved a lot."

"You're bragging..." Kyoka made a face through her mask, her beautiful eyes crinkling with laughter, showing

how happy she was.

After about ten minutes, under the heat of the wound lamp, Mrs. Linda's incision was slowly

closing.

Of course, this only refers to the surface incision. For the internal flesh to truly heal and return to its normal

appearance, it will take at least ten days to two weeks. Moreover, using a wound-lighting lamp is an emergency measure,

and it's less effective than normal surface healing.

However, in any case, it's urgent and this is the only way to get her to accept

the expulsion of poison with true qi as soon as possible.

I placed one hand on Mrs. Linda's head, closed my eyes, and slowly

channeled into her Baihui acupoint.

Kyoka, as I instructed, stood aside and watched. As the saying goes, the layman sees the spectacle, the expert sees the details. Kyoka…

Having some knowledge of martial arts internal energy, she keenly noticed within a minute or two

that a faint wisp of smoke rose from where my palm touched Mrs. Linda's head.

At first, the beautiful doctor thought it was a hallucination, but the smoke grew thicker and formed

a layer of luminous mist, completely obscuring Mrs. Linda's head and refusing to dissipate. This extraordinary sight left Kyoka

in awe.

Mrs. Linda, who had been trembling slightly, not only stopped trembling as the smoke enveloped her

, but her breathing also became much more even.

Kyoka looked up at the row of instruments beside her; her heart rate, blood pressure, and other vital signs were gradually returning to normal

. Clearly, her husband's miraculous internal energy had taken effect.

The beautiful doctor was a very attentive woman. While observing Mrs. Linda's condition, she was even more concerned

about me.

Even those unfamiliar with martial arts principles understood that using one's own internal energy to help others must be extremely

taxing, even damaging to one's own vitality. Therefore, Kyoka constantly looked at me, worried that I might be too tired

.

Fortunately, aside from a slightly grave expression, Kyoka didn't notice any paleness or fatigue in me

.

Outside the Wuling Medical Building, Powell puffed on his cigar with no rhythm or grace whatsoever.

Seeing his prized Cuban cigar being wasted like this, Rumsfeld beside him was

heartbroken but dared not speak—an honest man can be quite formidable when angered.

"What time is it?"

"Reporting, General, 10:58 AM."

"How long has it been since they went in?"

"Sixty-three minutes and fifty-three seconds, General." This kind of exchange happened on average every three minutes. Even

Rumsfeld, who claimed to possess the tolerance and forbearance of the Mississippi River,

couldn't bear it any longer after hearing it twenty times.

"Clin, I fucking swear, if you ask that again, you're not getting

a !"

"Fuck you, Donald! If you dare utter another word, I'll snap your neck and shove it up your ass

!"

"Come on, don't think I'm afraid of you. Back when I was the army boxing champion, you were still

suckling!"

"What's the use of being stronger now? I'm much stronger than you! I swear, if you don't shut up, I

'll break your old bones with one hand and show them what human anatomy is!"

"..."

These two top-ten American figures were exchanging such vicious and violent words, leaving their

guards with wry smiles, especially the consulate soldiers, who were utterly dumbfounded!

This is our most amiable and wise four-star general?

This is our shrewd and witty Secretary of Defense?

Good heavens, let me faint! This is too much to bear! Even the street thugs in Tennessee

use more civilized language than them!

"Boom..."

The soldiers were rescued not by any one person, but by a massive explosion.

Amidst the flashes of light, the deafening roar nearly shook the ground, not to mention the

buildings. Powell stared in horror at the crumbling medical building, his body chilled to the bone.

Of course, there was another reason for his coldness: the

moment pounced on him, pinning him to the bottom. The poor four-star general, already over fifty,

couldn't withstand such sudden pressure; his head was spinning, and he nearly fainted.

He fared slightly better; Rumsfeld, nearly seventy, was similarly

pinned down by four or five men, letting out a cry of pain before passing out on the spot.

"Thump, thump, thump..." The sound of leather shoes hitting the ground echoed from all directions. Only then

did Powell gain his freedom, but four or five burly men still surrounded him, their pistols off safety, pointed at

anyone who might pose a threat... including the panicked Zhong Gengchong and his group.

"Stop! Take another step and I'll shoot." The sergeants glared coldly at Zhong Gengchong and his men,

showing them no respect whatsoever, completely disregarding that they were still on Japanese soil.

Powell walked towards Rumsfeld, who had been helped to a chair. Rumsfeld had been

pressed down and was holding his breath, but he wasn't injured. Powell checked his breathing and, finding it even,

relaxed.

Only then did Powell have a chance to determine the source of the explosion.

Behind them, on the tall and imposing hospital wall, to the east—

to the left a gap of about ten meters had been blasted open. Countless large and small rubble

were scattered around, and jagged steel bars were visible within the remaining wall, proving that the wall's breach

wasn't due to poor construction, but rather the sheer power of the bomb.

After a moment's hesitation, Powell gestured to a consulate staff member nearby to take the phone and dialed a number: "Lieutenant General

Combett , this is Powell. Mr. Rumsfeld and I are currently in Sapporo, Hokkaido, under

a serious terrorist attack. I request immediate support and protection."

Powell, a former soldier, had a booming voice that was clearly audible to Nakagawa and the others standing nearby.

The Chief Cabinet Secretary of the Japanese National Police Agency turned pale instantly.

Paul Combett, forty-two years old, a lieutenant general in the United States Army,

was one of .

That's not the most important thing. The most important thing is that Lieutenant General Combet is

the Commander-in-Chief of the US base in Okinawa, commanding tens of thousands of elite US troops! If he were involved, what would become of

Japan 's reputation? How would the world view Japan?

It must be said that the Japanese have complex psychology; they admire and rely on the United States, but they least want to be

seen as subservient to the US.

Any country that makes foreign dignitaries feel unsafe and thus mobilizes its military for

protection is usually a small, impoverished nation with extremely weak sovereignty—like those African countries.

Clearly, Japan wasn't among them.

However, Nakagami was speechless. Seeing the section of the wall that had almost been blown away, how many bombs would it take

to achieve that effect? All those hundreds of Japanese police officers around had failed to notice; if it were

him , he wouldn't believe how incompetent they were.

"Sir, the count is in. A total of thirty-eight police officers have died in the line of duty, and forty-five are injured,

fifteen of whom require emergency treatment." To make matters worse, his deputy rushed over, reporting yet another piece of bad

news .

"Immediately summon the doctors from the Wuling Association to treat the police officers," Nakagami took a deep breath and gave the order

.

"But sir..." the deputy asked in surprise, "Judging from the Americans' attitude, do you think they'll let our wounded

police officers in?"

"This is Japan, not America!" Nakagami, who had been holding back his anger, finally exploded:

"We're treating police officers injured in the line of duty on our own soil. Do we need their permission? Get them

in! If necessary, seize the Americans' guns!"

This was the first time the usually mild-mannered Nakagami had been so assertive, immediately drawing admiring glances from those around him. "Damn

, that's tough!"

But his next sentence revealed his true nature. He calmed his anger and embarrassment,

lowering his voice : "Put the most seriously injured police officers on stretchers. Let them see that they

were injured while protecting them. The Americans won't be so inhumane."

"Yes, sir!" The deputy thought to himself, "This is my Nakagami-sama!" He nodded and went to do so.

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