I am a necromancer, and I absolutely love America.

Chapter 167 The Diamond is Coming (11K long chapter, please vote and subscribe)

Daniel walked out of the airport. The Seattle air was cold as a knife in the early morning, and it stung his face.

He wrapped his coat tighter and followed the sparse crowd out, carrying only a backpack and a small suitcase.

He took two steps, stopped, and looked back at the airport building.

I don't know when I'll be able to go back to New York.

"Damn Eugene!"

Daniel cursed.

After a six-hour flight, my muscles ached all over.

He turned off airplane mode, and suddenly more than a dozen missed calls popped up.

Daniel's heart skipped a beat, and he froze on the spot.

Did Eugene discover I ran away?!

Daniel took a deep breath, opened the call log, and quickly scanned it; there were no unfamiliar numbers.

They were all from Queens Hospital.

The HR director, the finance director, his secretary Becca, and a few acquaintances.

Thankfully, it wasn't Eugene.

But what happened?

In the past 40 minutes, these people have made more than a dozen phone calls.

Before Daniel could even catch his breath, his phone rang again.

The word "Becca" popped up on the screen.

He answered the phone, his voice low: "Hello, Becca."

Becca's voice came through the receiver, anxiously saying, "Vice President! You finally answered the phone! Something terrible has happened! Come to the hospital immediately!"

"Is Eugene after me...?" Daniel gripped his phone tightly, managing to remain calm as he asked, "What happened?"

"Eugene is dead!" Becca's voice almost cracked. "He was in a car accident on the road, the whole car was broken up! The Dean is dead!"

WTF? Daniel's mind went blank: "—What did you say?"

"Dean Jaeger is dead! You need to come back right now! The hospital is in chaos, everyone's looking for you!"

Daniel was completely bewildered: "How...how did he die?"

Becca repeated, "Car accident—his car went out of control and veered off the road, breaking in two. It was on the news! Daniel, come back quickly! The hospital needs you back to take charge!"

Daniel didn't know how he hung up the phone.

He stood there, the airport's automatic doors opening and closing behind him, gusts of cold air blowing in, but he felt nothing.

Is Becca cooperating with Eugene to trick me?

Daniel immediately opened the news app and searched for keywords: Eugene, Queens hospital director, car accident.

The first headline popped up: "A serious car accident occurred on Interstate 1-95 in the early morning; the deceased is suspected to be Eugene Yeager, the director of Queens Hospital."

Daniel's eyes lit up slightly, and he clicked on the video.

In the picture, the wreckage of a black car lies on the ground, next to a large tree.

The car body was torn in half, and the driver's side was completely deformed, with dark marks visible on the seat.

The license plate number was blurred, but Daniel recognized the outline of the car.

It's that car from Eugene!

He had seen it no less than twenty times in the hospital parking lot.

That's the one!

Daniel stared at the screen for more than ten seconds, then suddenly laughed.

FXXK!

Am I that lucky?

"Excuse me." A man pushing a luggage cart passed by him, glanced back at him, probably thinking it was strange for Daniel to be standing in front of the automatic door grinning like an idiot.

Daniel, however, didn't care; he felt all the pressure on his body dissipate.

What should we do now?

Of course I went back!

Only a fool would stay in Seattle!

In New York, he was the vice dean, with Richard helping him make money and a mentor to support him.

In Seattle, he was a stranger.

Only a fool would stay here!

Daniel put his phone in his pocket and turned to walk back.

Daniel jogged back to the lobby, panting, "I need to buy a plane ticket to New York. I need to leave right now, the sooner the better."

The female ticket seller said indifferently, "The earliest flight is at 6:50. Do you want it? You seem..."

'

The ticket seller glanced at Daniel's suitcase and said with some confusion, "You seem to have just gotten off the plane—"

Daniel beamed with joy: "My boss is dead, I have to go back to work right away."

The female ticket seller raised her eyebrows, stared at him for a full two seconds, and suddenly laughed: "Nice joke. If my boss died, I'd be willing to fly 3000 kilometers to work overtime."

I'm telling the truth! After paying and getting his boarding pass, Daniel finally caught his breath in the waiting area.

The short jog he had just done had left him with a light sweat.

It's only 4 a.m., and he still has to wait here for two hours.

He sat in the waiting area for more than ten minutes, his mind gradually clearing, and the somewhat unreal situation finally became real.

Eugene is dead.

I don't need to run anymore.

I am still the vice dean.

I can go back to working with Richard again.

My money is back.

Haha!

Oh no! My car!

FXXK!

Daniel groaned inwardly.

He had the agent sell it at 20% below market price because Eugene was pressuring him too much, and he had to run away immediately.

Now Eugene is dead, and his car is gone too.

We'll have to buy a new one!

He also sold some valuable furniture and appliances quickly to minimize his losses, but he would have to buy new ones later.

OMG!

And houses!

Daniel quickly grabbed his phone and dialed the agent's number.

The other end answered, the voice clearly groggy from sleep: "—Daniel? Do you know what time it is?"

Daniel immediately said, "I'm not selling the house anymore. Help me take it down."

The agent paused for a moment: "You just signed the power of attorney yesterday, and now you're not selling it today? Are you playing me?"

Daniel said without further ado, "I'm not selling! I'll pay you back whatever price you asked for. Get out of here now."

He hung up the phone without waiting for the agent's reply, and stood in the waiting hall with a look on his face that was a mixture of wanting to laugh and wanting to cry.

Eugene is dead, and his troubles are over.

But this whole ordeal has resulted in a loss of at least $5!

FXXK!

Damn Eugene!

Daniel felt increasingly distressed.

Then, the thought of having to take another 6-hour flight back made his back ache.

In any case, the trouble is over.

Daniel slumped in the chair, completely relaxed.

He thought for a moment, then sent Richard a message: "That's great, Eugene died in a car accident!"

Richard's reply came quickly, as if he hadn't slept: "Great! Daniel, you're in luck, our problem is solved."

Daniel laughed, about to say something, when he suddenly froze, staring at the line of text for a few seconds.

Is Richard being a little too calm?

Richard seemed convinced that the problem could be solved and told himself to wait a little longer.

Strange, is it a coincidence?

Daniel thought it was probably a coincidence; with car accidents, no one can say for sure.

He edited another message: "Unfortunately, I just sold my car and a lot of furniture. I lost a lot of money and have to buy everything again."

Richard: "It's alright, we'll make it back in a few surgeries."

Daniel: "Go back and open the Katrina Clinic, make money as soon as possible."

He put down his phone, leaned back in his chair, and breathed a sigh of relief.

Corbin-Yager stood at the scene of the car accident, his face grim.

He stared at his son's car with a cold look in his eyes, lost in thought.

The site had been mostly cleared, and NYPD technicians and people from the Attorney General's office were coming and going with their toolboxes.

Corbyn strongly urged that the scene be preserved to facilitate the investigation.

After a while, a senior major crimes investigator from the prosecutor's office said, "Prosecutor Jaeger, come and see."

Corbyn crouched beside the wreckage of the front of the train.

The investigator pointed to the disassembled electronic vacuum pump components.

The plastic casing had a crack, but most of the internal wiring was intact, except for one wire that had been deliberately damaged.

The fracture is elongated, as if it were torn off with some kind of tool.

"This wasn't an accident. Not damaging the casing, but severing the wire—this is clearly the work of a master," the investigator said confidently. "Eugene's ability to drive this far indicates that the brakes on the road ahead were functional. Therefore, the wire wasn't broken on the road ahead; it was still partially connected, in a 'loose connection' state, and could easily go out of control with the vehicle's movements. Either here or there. This is expert work."

The investigators reiterated this point.

Corbyn squatted there for a long time, his coat hem dragging on the ground, stained with mud and oil, but he didn't care.

After a long while, Corbyn stood up and said to the NYPD sheriff at the scene, "Suppress the news. Tell the media it was an accident."

The sheriff hesitated, "But..."

""

"No buts, I'll call Isabella." Corbyn turned and left the scene, returning to his car.

The car door closed, shutting out all outside noise.

The vehicle moved forward slowly.

An hour later, Corbyn returned to his office.

The assistant had already prepared a list and placed it on the table.

Corbyn did not translate.

The assistant began reading: "Over the past three months, Mr. Eugene has had public conflicts with the following organizations or individuals regarding the expansion plans of the Plastic Surgery Department at Queens Hospital: Bello Aesthetics Group, Decano Aesthetics Group, New York Society of Plastic Surgeons, Private Practice Alliance, Derson Precision Medicine, St. Mary's Medical Group —"

He read out a long list of names, ending with: "There are 12 more doctors, including Daniel, the vice president of Queens Hospital and a plastic surgeon, a student of Christina Shepard. And Williams..."

'

The concept of assistance is complete.

The office was silent for a few seconds.

"How many people has this brat offended!" Corbin frowned and said, "The investigators said it was done by a mastermind. Rule out all those doctors. They're ordinary people; they don't have that ability."

The assistant nodded, took out a red pen, and crossed out most of the name.

"Excluding small and medium-sized companies, they don't dare to, and they don't have the manpower reserves for that."

The assistant crossed out a bunch of names again.

Only three companies remain on the list: Bellow Group, Decano Group, and Desen Precision.

"Eugene just had a conflict with the Bello Group, and the Bello Group is the most likely culprit."

"DiCano might also take action, deliberately provoking a conflict between the Bello Group and us."

"Derson was accurate because Eugene poached one of their experts."

Corbyn stared at the three names and said coldly, "Chabello, investigate thoroughly! I want all the dirty work they've done in the last 10 years!"

The assistant cautiously asked, "Should we investigate the car accident to see if we can find evidence that the Bellow Group was involved?"

"Evidence?" Corbyn finally looked up at his assistant. "My son's life is at stake. Suspicion is enough for me. I don't need evidence, I just want revenge!"

7

Evidence is only needed when facing an opponent that cannot be dealt with.

For those in lower positions, all that's needed is strong suppression.

For the state attorney general, the Bello Group is a subordinate entity in the judicial system.

Corbyn must punish the Bello Group immediately, promptly, and severely.

On one hand, there is the pain of losing a child.

On the other hand, it also serves as a deterrent to petty criminals.

Countless people are eyeing Corbyn's prosecutor's seat, and if he shows even the slightest weakness, countless people will rush out to try to tear him apart.

Corbyn must make the Bello Group pay a heavy price as soon as possible to prove his strength before slowly investigating the cause of Eugene's death.

The assistant nodded: "Understood."

The room quieted down, and Corbyn leaned back in his chair, looking out at the already pale skyline.

He thought of something else.

Grayson.

Is it possible that Grayson did it?

That seems impossible.

Grayson had no motive; Eugene was far inferior to him and had no chance against him.

But what if someone wants to frame Grayson?

He didn't say it aloud, but he kept it in mind.

Bauer was awakened in the middle of the night by a phone call from his secretary.

Bauer put on his glasses, frowned, and answered the phone: "What's wrong?"

"Boss! Eugene is dead! He died in a car accident!" The secretary was somewhat panicked.

Bauer felt a chill run down his spine in an instant.

.

Eugene is dead?

How could he have died so conveniently!

Given the mess Eugene made, as long as Eugene is alive, he can retaliate against him by any means necessary, and Corbyn won't express too much dissatisfaction.

But Eugene is dead!

That changes the nature of the matter!

FXXK!

Bauer quickly composed himself and immediately called Corbyn: "Mr. Jaeger, I am deeply saddened by Eugene's death."

Corbyn paused for a moment, then said, "Thank you."

Bauer spoke with extreme caution, saying, "Mr. Jaeger, please believe me, this matter has nothing to do with the Bellow Group. Mr. Eugene is an exceptionally talented young dean, whom I greatly respect—our conflict is merely a business dispute concerning human resources; the Bellow Group would never do such a thing."

'

Corbyn interrupted him: "I know. I believe it was an accident. The NYPD has already concluded that."

Bauer sensed the perfunctory tone and could only say helplessly, "Thank you very much for your trust, Mr. Jaeger. If you need any assistance—"

Corbyn said calmly, "No need. That's fine."

Snapped.

The phone hangs up.

FXXK! Bauer sat in his study, his phone still pressed against his face, now just a busy signal.

He put down his phone, his face looking extremely grim.

When Corbyn said, "I believe it was an accident," he was probably thinking, "I don't believe it."

Finished!

The Bello Group is likely to engage in a legal battle with the state attorney general.

This is something Bauer absolutely does not want to face.

FXXK!

Someone wants me to take the blame!

Bauer paced anxiously in the room.

He has no way to prove that he didn't do it.

Bauer also realized that Corbyn didn't need evidence.

What the other party needs is immediate retaliation to demonstrate their power.

FXXK!

Bauer cursed and swore, feeling utterly wronged. In the end, he could only pick up his phone and dial another number: "Compile all the records of everyone who has had contact with Eugene Yeager in the last three months and send them to my email immediately. Also, keep a close eye on DiCano and see if they do anything unusual."

"Get the general counsel to my house right now! Immediately! And the chief technology officer and the chief scientist too! All of them! We're in big trouble!"

Its daybreak.

Richard received a call from the South River province; it was from the buyer who had purchased diamonds last time.

The voice on the other end was the same one with the same regional accent as last time, getting straight to the point: "Boss Li, your diamond is almost finished. We just measured it, and the size is about 120 to 130 carats. After removing the impurities, the usable portion is about 100 carats. Any bigger, and the yield rate can't be guaranteed. Is it about right?"

That should be enough for the skeleton nest. Richard asked, "Then how much?"

"Boss Li, cultivating such a large seed at once won't be priced at market value. The equipment and technology have to be sourced on the spot. We'll offer a fixed price of 260 million."

"260 million is too expensive. The cost of artificially grown diamonds is not that high."

"This is the first time we've made this size, so we can't guarantee a success rate. We had to discard several before we finally got this one."

"That's your risk," Richard said. "Not mine."

"The minimum is 250 million; we really can't do it any lower."

"250 sounds too awful, how about 240 million? But you need to polish it properly and remove all the impurities."

After some haggling, the two agreed on a price of 235 million.

When will the goods be shipped?

"After it's finished, the magazine needs polishing and final weighing, which will take about 6 or 7 days. I'll send someone to the US to deliver it to you by passenger transport. The shipping cost will be at least 1 yuan, but I won't charge you, Mr. Li. It will take about 10 days for it to finally reach you."

"OK!" Richard was in a great mood. "Call me before it arrives."

"Okay!"

The phone hangs up.

The diamond is finally here! Richard put down his phone and looked out the window. The direction of Hart Island was blocked by the cape, so he couldn't see it, but he knew that the pit was ready.

The concrete was poured 3 meters deep and dried completely after almost a week.

That pit was specially prepared for the core of the skeleton nest. Once it was set up, it would be covered with concrete, and then it would be virtually impossible to leak the secret in the future.

Vatican.

Sebastian Hale saw the news about CMCS.

Eternal Paradise Television Network began promoting this emerging organization at its first CMCS rally in the South Bronx.

CMCS's somewhat violent style of conduct has been seized upon by liberal media, who have repeatedly attacked it, claiming that CMCS is a "restoration of clericalism."

The comments section was a huge mess, with thousands of arguments every day. Hale took it very seriously and read through all the top comments one by one.

Then, he posted a message on his social media account: "Someone asked me what I think of CMCS. My answer is: They are doing what the church should be doing but hasn't done well. What did our Lord's Church do when Catholics were starving and being bullied in the streets? And what did CMCS do? The answer is clear. I think CMCS is good."

As a Catholic cardinal, Hale had many fans, most of whom were devout Catholics.

This statement went viral after it was posted.

CMCS's social media accounts gained thousands of new followers and tens of thousands of comments within four hours, mostly supportive, with people starting to ask "how to join".

Several parish priests privately shared Hale's comments, and Eternal Paradise Television Network aired an extra episode that evening that directly reported on the matter.

Emil-Valentine was very unhappy about this and immediately went to find Hale and had another argument with him.

Meryl, holding her phone, hurriedly found Owen: "Owen, I think you need to take a look at this."

Irving put down the list of supplies he had just written, picked up the video, and watched it without any change in expression.

Meryl said nervously, "Owen, you need to understand one thing. After today, you'll have twice as many enemies. The liberal media has started digging up your past—your experience at OCME, your whistleblowing about your boss—they'll bring it all up."

Irving calmly replied, "I know."

Meryl asked curiously, "Aren't you afraid?"

Irving remained calm: "I'm scared. But I don't care. If I'm going to be burned, then I'll be burned. If God needs me to go to heaven, then I'll go to heaven."

Meryl pursed her lips and gripped Owen's hands tightly: "Owen, don't say things like that. Things aren't that bad. We live in the modern world now, not the Middle Ages."

Irving smiled but didn't explain anything.

Andrew looked at Owen with admiration. The young man was unremarkable in every way, but he had unparalleled courage.

Meryl, holding her tablet, looked at the screen showing the surge in CMCS page followers and cheered: "Owen, we've gained over 4000 new followers—and there are quite a few people criticizing us in the comments. Liberals say we want to establish a 'state within a state,' and some say it's a replay of medieval monastic militias. Should we delete the posts?"

Irving chuckled. "Let them talk. We can't silence everyone."

Andrew was somewhat worried: "We've only just gotten to where we are, and we're not ready to be in the spotlight right away."

Irving remained unfazed: "The enemy will never wait for us to be ready before they strike."

Andrew disagreed: "I think we should be bigger, at least get one city councilor."

Irving shook his head: "We don't have time to grow slowly; that's just Sean's fantasy. Cardinal Hale has given us a chance to grow rapidly, and I have to seize it."

Irving glanced at the comments section with a smile; someone had already threatened to burn CMCS fanatics alive.

Irving laughed: "It's good now. Even if someone wants to burn us alive, they'll have to wait in line."

97

At 14:40 p.m., Daniel, carrying a backpack and dragging a suitcase, walked wearily through the gates of Queens Hospital.

He was still wearing the same jacket he wore when he boarded the plane yesterday. He had flown 7 to 8000 kilometers overnight, and the jacket was all wrinkled and his hair was a mess.

His eyes were bloodshot, he hadn't slept all night, waited at the airport for more than two hours for his return flight, and after landing, he took a taxi across half of New York to the hospital. Now, all he had in his stomach was a cup of coffee he bought from a vending machine.

The receptionist nurse was visibly taken aback when she saw him enter: "Dean Mason—you're back? What brings you here?"

Daniel sighed, "I took an overnight flight. I was planning to go on vacation, but when I heard about Eugene's accident, I had to rush back."

The nurse looked at Daniel with sympathy.

Daniel walked through the corridor and took the elevator upstairs.

I ran into several colleagues along the way, and everyone's eyes carried similar feelings: surprise, nervousness, and a hint of relief that someone was finally taking care of things.

Becca was waiting at the elevator entrance on the top floor. When she saw him come out, she quickly went to greet him: "Dean Mason! You're finally back."

Daniel put his luggage in his office, quickly washed his face with water, and tidied himself up: "What's the situation now?"

Becca lowered her voice: "The three of them—HR Director Dylan Sterling, CFO Harvey Powell, and Security Director Jeremy Hayes—are arguing about who should be in charge. One says he's the most senior, the other says he's spent fifteen years in the hospital and doesn't care—anyway, nobody has the final say."

Daniel was helpless; ever since the dean died, these three old guys had been fighting over it.

As a result, Eugene arrived.

The three of them started arguing again about who would become the vice dean.

For some unknown reason, Eugene has not yet selected a vice dean, and the three of them have not yet achieved their goal.

As a result, Eugene suddenly died.

As the only vice president and the highest-ranking person in the entire hospital, Daniel automatically gained control of the Queens Hospital.

He's going to have to deal with these three clowns again.

"And now?"

Becca tilted her head: "They're still arguing in the meeting room."

Daniel walked out of the office and glanced back at the sign on the office door.

The top line reads "Vice Dean," and the bottom line, in smaller print, reads "Director of the Super-Fast Recovery Liposuction Project."

He reached down, plucked the little thing off, and threw it directly into the trash can.

Becca watched from the side without saying a word.

When Daniel walked into the conference room, Dylan, Harvey, and Jeremy were staring at each other in bewilderment.

A bunch of executives and chief physicians from various departments watched and had a good time.

When everyone saw Daniel enter, all eyes turned to him.

Daniel sat down in the main seat, draped his coat over the back of the chair, and said directly, "The hospital director unfortunately passed away unexpectedly. The hospital can't be left unattended, so I will temporarily oversee all operations until a new director is appointed from the main hospital. Surgery schedules will continue, outpatient services will operate as usual, and all non-emergency elective surgery approvals will be temporarily suspended until I reassess them."

"With the experience from last time, Daniel made the arrangements much easier."

Dylan started to speak: "Daniel, this job should be done by the most senior person—"

Daniel glanced at him and said in an unquestionable tone, "Dylan, you continue to manage personnel. All appointments at the middle and upper levels require my signature."

Daniel had been working as the vice dean for some time and had accumulated some authority and confidence.

Dylan opened his mouth slightly, but didn't say anything more.

Harvey and Jeremy exchanged a glance, but neither of them spoke again.

Daniel quickly gave out instructions, and it took more than an hour to calm everyone down. Finally, he said, "Let's stabilize the situation first. I'll contact the main hospital immediately and have them send someone over so I can hand over the reins to the new director."

After everyone left, Daniel leaned back in his chair and took a breath.

He was indeed exhausted. He'd been on the run since last night, flying to Seattle, hearing the news of Eugene's death before even leaving the airport, rushing back to buy a return ticket, taking another overnight flight, and then a taxi here. He'd been traveling for almost 20 days.

It took an hour, with only one nap in between.

Daniel put down his phone and rubbed his temples.

I can't rest now; I need to communicate with the next dean first.

He picked up the landline and dialed the number of the hospital's president.

No one answered.

I called another vice president I'd met before, but still no one answered.

Daniel was puzzled, so he finally found an acquaintance at the main hospital and asked, "With Dean Jaeger's unexpected death, who is the main hospital planning to send to Queens Hospital?"

The other person's voice held a hint of evasion: "Daniel? How's things going on your end?"

Daniel said anxiously, "It's stable for now. But I want to ask, when will the dean arrive? I can't keep managing things like this indefinitely."

There was a moment of silence on the other end: "Daniel, let me tell you the truth. The board of directors met last night and nominated three people, but none of them wanted to take the position. The position of superintendent of Queens Hospital is too cursed; the previous one just died, and then the next one died too. Nobody wants to be the third unlucky one."

Daniel: ...

"Then what should I do?"

The person on the other end said hesitantly, "You can handle it for now. We'll wait for further notice and see if anyone else is willing to go."

This is too much... Daniel hung up the phone, leaned back in his chair, and stared at the ceiling for a few seconds.

So, I've become the acting dean?

What a bizarre day!

Daniel returned to his office, closed the door, and drifted off to sleep.

When I woke up, it was already dark.

There was an extra blanket on him, probably put on by Becca.

Daniel felt much more awake, and he picked up his phone and swiped it a few times.

What popped up was his speech at the last internal meeting at Queens Hospital, which Becca recorded and posted online.

Daniel clicked on it and was stunned for a moment.

Views: 2.3 million.

Likes: Over 1100.

For a professional video in the medical field, this data is already explosive.

wrong!

Why is it so popular?

Eugene, that jerk, definitely bought the ad!

This thing has been roasting me alive!

Daniel scrolled down the comments: "I've personally experienced Dr. Daniel's liposuction technique. Recovery takes three days, I'm not a shill. I've had it done twice at Derson Precision, and neither time it took less than seven days."

"The person upstairs is definitely a shill. Recovery in three days? You're just kidding."

"My wife also had it done by Daniel. It's true that it didn't happen in three days, but she was able to go out normally after five days. You may not believe it, but it's the truth."

"Could you please provide Dr. Daniel's contact information? I need to make an appointment."

"Queens Hospital, Vice President, they can come directly to your home."

"I'm a nurse at Queens Hospital. Dr. Daniels performs rapid recovery surgeries at a small clinic, never at our hospital."

Daniel's finger stopped on the screen and swiped down twice more.

Several familiar faces appeared among those who liked the post: a nurse from the plastic surgery department at Queens Hospital, a resident anesthesiologist, and others.

There were even two attending physicians from other departments.

He hadn't been unaware that he would receive attention, but he hadn't expected that so many of those who liked his posts would be people close to him.

He scrolled down a couple more times and saw a comment: "When will Dr. Daniel publish his paper? If the technique for super-fast recovery after liposuction could be written into a paper, it would definitely be published in a top journal."

"Get on top-tier magazines?! I have absolutely no idea how!" Daniel was completely dumbfounded.

For no apparent reason, I seem to be about to become a famous doctor?

In the past, this would have been his dream.

But he simply doesn't have the ability to do it!

Daniel finally realized something: the surgeries he had previously undergone at Katrina's clinic, after being packaged and promoted by Eugene's "three-day recovery" program, had spread his reputation faster than he had imagined.

Eugene is dead, but his fame has not disappeared with him.

I seem to be racing towards becoming a renowned doctor.

Moreover, this situation will only get worse as long as I continue working at the Katrina Clinic.

Also, was Eugene's death really a car accident?

Was it some hospital retaliating against him?

It's already dark, I don't have a car, and my house is missing a lot of furniture.

Daniel was too lazy to go home, so he decided to spend the night in the office.

Early the next morning.

Becca pushed the door open and came in: "Vice Dean, two doctors have come to see you. They want to resign."

"Please let them in," Daniel said.

The two people who came to resign were the ones Eugene had poached from St. Mary's Hospital.

Two men walked into the office, dressed in casual clothes, each carrying a file folder.

The older one spoke first, his tone cautious: "Dean Mason, thank you for your help during this time. Dean Eugene has passed away, and we plan to return to our original hospital. This is our resignation letter."

Another one was handed over as well.

Daniel took the document, glanced at it, and placed it on the table: "I understand. I approve your resignations; just complete the formalities."

Eugene's death was too suspicious; even the son of the state attorney general couldn't bear the consequences of trying to take him away, so Daniel dared not get involved in this mess.

If you want to leave, then leave now, everyone leave!

The worse the plastic surgery department at Queens Hospital is, the better business the Katrina Clinic will have.

The older doctor visibly felt relieved.

The young doctor breathed a sigh of relief: "Although we were forced to transfer here, we've learned about your surgical skills from other colleagues during this time, and we really hope to see your papers."

Daniel had several procedures done at a hospital in Queens, and the recovery speed was generally slow. What does this mean? It means that Daniel was keeping secrets from the public.

This shows that Daniel is one of them!

They won't be able to fully utilize their abilities in public hospitals, otherwise who would go to private hospitals and let them make money?

The two looked at Daniel with a sense of shared indignation, as if they were all in cahoots with him.

"Yes! Eugene forced you to undergo super-fast recovery here before, how ridiculous!" The older doctor was even more blunt: "Eugene makes it sound so easy! But how much do they pay here? Good riddance!"

Daniel was at a loss for words for a moment, and finally just said, "Thank you both for your appreciation."

The two doctors left happily, knowing that it was Eugene who had offended someone, not Daniel.

After the two tested each other, the other doctors stopped pretending, and in the next half hour, Daniel received four more resignation letters.

With Eugene's death, the plastic surgery department immediately fell apart.

In the end, only four people in the entire department were still able to perform surgery.

"What should we do?" Becca seemed very worried about the situation.

After reading the resignation letter, Daniel folded it and put it back in the envelope. He wasn't in a hurry at all; in fact, he was pleased: "Everyone was brought here by Eugene in the first place. When Eugene was around, they didn't dare to leave. Now that Eugene is dead, no one is stopping them. Why don't they leave?"

Daniel then got busy.

The HR department called to say there was an interdepartmental coordination meeting that afternoon, and he needed to chair it.

Then the medical affairs department called again, asking how to adjust the schedules for several emergency surgeries.

Then came logistics, asking who should sign off on the recent batch of medical supplies procurement approvals.

One morning, he found himself busier than when Eugene was around, because those who used to consult Eugene directly were now all looking for him.

Daniel signed more than a dozen documents, approved three purchase orders, replied to two emails, and also received two phone calls, both asking "when will the new dean arrive?"

Daniel could only call the chairman to ask about the situation.

As a result, the chairman was also helpless. He also found two candidates, but they both rejected them.

The first one said it was due to family reasons, and the second one said it was due to health reasons.

Anyway, there are rumors going around that the position of director of Queens Hospital is uncertain and no one wants to come.

For at least a few months, Daniel will be the oldest in the entire hospital.

During the afternoon meeting, Daniel noticed that the atmosphere in the meeting room had changed.

Before, when he sat at the table, people looked at him as "that lucky resident."

Now that he's sat down, everyone is waiting for him to speak first.

He proposed a plan, and people immediately agreed.

He said a certain process needed to be adjusted, and someone immediately wrote it down.

What he used to have to fight for, he can now get with just a word.

Daniel felt that this kind of life seemed pretty good.

It would be best if a new dean came.

Also, please stop pressuring me to share my super-fast recovery tips!

Daniel spent two busy days at the Queens hospital, finally stabilizing the situation, and then rushed to the Katrina Clinic.

The Queens Hospital director thing is just for fun; this little clinic is where he makes his big money.

As Daniel entered the clinic, Catherine's voice drifted over from the front desk: "Director Mason is here."

Daniel paused for a moment.

Claire peeked out from the inner room, still wearing rubber gloves, and teased, "The Dean's here, please have a seat."

Daniel could only manage a wry smile.

Richard walked over: "We've been waiting for you. Let's get ready to start the surgery."

"Okay!" Daniel immediately followed Richard eagerly.

Liposuction is still the fastest!

After two liposuction surgeries, Richard had filled the Blood Box to the brim, and he was completely satisfied.

This is much easier than spending five or six hours at a blood donation center in Manhattan.

There are only two surgeries today.

Since we haven't worked together for a long time, let's make two machines to get back into the swing of things and improve our coordination.

It will gradually speed up from there.

That night, Richard returned home and checked on Shadow's physical condition.

Very good, no abnormalities.

He took another opportunity to check on Debbie's condition, and everything was normal.

However, he did not rush to further enhance Debbie.

Since this upgrade targets internal organs and blood vessels, and has directly upgraded them to level 20, it's best to be cautious.

The next morning, Richard returned to Hart Island to make final preparations for the skeleton nest. He pushed open the door of the outpost, and the cold white lights automatically turned on.

He first walked to the skeleton, and this time he chose to strengthen the skeleton's right arm.

Richard drew 20 units of fresh flesh from the Blood and Corpse Box and injected them into his collarbone, scapula, humerus, ulna, and radius in sequence.

The surface of the bone was covered by a thin, dark red film, which then slowly seeped into it.

A second later, the skeleton's right finger joint twitched.

Then, the five fingers clenched and unclenched in turn, making a slight friction sound between the knuckles.

The entire skeleton remained standing in place, motionless, except for its right hand, which was still alive.

Sometimes he clenched his fist, sometimes he spread his fingers, as if he was testing something.

It looks very strange.

If it can move, it means that this thing can execute simple attack commands.

Richard watched the hand's movements and suddenly thought:

If I transform the entire skeleton into a flesh golem and give it a knife, wouldn't that be a skeleton soldier?

To put it bluntly, I don't need to use animal carcasses at all; skeletons are enough, which also saves on fresh flesh and blood.

Besides, who said skeletons can only use bone swords?

Richard took a Glock 19 out of the drawer and placed it in the skull's outstretched palm.

The skeletal hand closed up and gripped the gun handle.

Richard took two steps back.

The skeleton slowly raised its arm, pointing the gun at the opposite wall. Its movements were stiff, but it was indeed able to carry out orders.

"Stay still, don't move."

The skeletal hand stopped moving.

Richard casually picked up a cowboy hat and put it on the skull.

The brim of the hat was pulled low, obscuring most of the skull's face. The skull held a pistol, the muzzle pointing forward, making it look like a prop from a low-budget sci-fi movie or a cosplay of a game character.

"This thing is definitely a sneaky trick," Richard thought to himself.

Who would have thought a skeleton model could fire a gun?

Richard patted the skull on the shoulder and casually said, "You can stay here and guard the house."

He walked out of the station, and not far away was a deep pit.

The pit walls have been completely poured with concrete, and the surface is smooth and clean. It is about three meters wide and three meters deep.

It was surrounded by barbed wire, with a sign hanging on it that read "Corpse Disease Research Site: Do Not Approach".

This is where Richard is preparing to place the core of the skeleton's lair.

Just then, Richard heard a sound coming from afar.

Richard stood up and saw a group of people walking towards the outpost.

Richard was puzzled: "Hart Island, where did so many people come from?"

Leading the way was a man in his fifties, wearing a dark gray trench coat. He was slightly overweight and walked at a moderate pace, with his toes pointing outwards. He took each step firmly, like a lion surveying its territory.

A tall, thin man followed half a step behind him, wearing thin-rimmed glasses and a dark blue work jacket, holding a clipboard with a simple map of Hart Island clipped to it.

Behind the two were four or five workers, all wearing KOM company uniforms. No one spoke; they all obediently followed the man in front.

The man in the trench coat stopped at the entrance of the outpost.

He didn't go in, nor did he look at Richard. He just glanced at him and asked the person next to him, "Mickey, is this that corpse disease research center?"

The tall, thin man, Mickey, immediately replied, "Yes, Mr. President, this is a project by Professor Shepard from Princeton, studying the long-term environmental impact of corpse diseases on the island."

"Is he the president of KOM?" Richard looked at the man in the trench coat and vaguely remembered Brian mentioning that the president of KOM was named Lawrence.

Lawrence didn't reply. His gaze swept from the outpost to the deep pit beside them, paused for two seconds, and then he frowned and asked, "This pit takes up so much space? What's it for?"

Mickey opened the panel: "That deep pit is the base for the equipment that Professor Shepard applied for. It's about three meters by three meters and three meters deep."

Lawrence complained, "What a waste of space! How big is Hart Island anyway?"

Without waiting for the tall, thin man's reply, he said, "Fill it out."

Mickey immediately shouted to the workers behind him, "Did you hear me? Fill it out!"

Richard frowned.

A worker, who appeared to be an engineer, hesitated for a moment before saying, "President, it was Professor Shepard's men who dug it up. They verbally promised them a plot of land when the agreement was signed—"

"A verbal promise?" Lawrence scoffed, repeating, "I said I filled it out, so you just do as I say."

The engineer's lips moved slightly, but he didn't say anything more.

Richard calmly said, "I suggest you don't fill this hole. This is Professor Shepard's project."

Lawrence didn't turn his head. He didn't even stop; he merely glanced at the direction of the sound out of the corner of his eye, then looked away as if he hadn't heard anything, continuing to walk forward and continue his inspection.

Mickey stopped and glanced at Richard, a young student with yellow skin. He said dismissively, "Get out of here. This is none of your business. We'll talk to Professor Shepard."

Richard said seriously, "I am Professor Shepard's student and also the person in charge of this project."

97

"Project manager?" Mickey immediately said, "That's perfect. Tell your advisor later that this hole isn't something you can just dig anywhere. Hart Island is K0M's operating area. From now on, you'll have to report to us in advance how much space you occupy and how deep the hole is for approval."

After he finished speaking, he turned around and followed Lawrence without waiting for Richard's response.

Richard watched the group walk away with a cold gaze.

Lawrence walked in front, the hem of his trench coat fluttering in the wind; the tall, thin man lagged half a step behind, constantly jotting something down on the deck.

The wind carried Lawrence's voice to Richard's ears, and he could hear it even dozens of meters away: "—Fill up that hole—and take down the fence—"

Richard withdrew his gaze, said nothing more, and offered no further advice. He turned and returned to his post.

The diamond will arrive in about ten days.

No one can affect my skeletal lair!

A fly puppet flew out of the outpost.