With three superpowers at his fingertips, he could dominate the 1970s.

As Jiang Zhiyu stepped off the helicopter landing pad, she looked up and instantly understood the old Zhuge's intention in insisting on using a helicopter to specially pick her up and take her to the capital.

The sanatorium in western Beijing was still brightly lit at 9 p.m.

Extending from the main gate to the side gate, the roadside was lined with black sedans, stretching for two miles, the vehicles tightly packed together. Scanning the license plates, she saw they were all exclusive Beijing city license plate numbers, the kind she usually only saw in top-secret documents.

The flower hall, the eaves of the long corridor, and both sides of the stone steps in the courtyard of the sanatorium were filled with people.

The leaders she used to only catch glimpses of from afar during high-level meetings were all gathered here tonight.

Jiang Zhiyu followed Secretary Li, who was picking her up at the airport, into the courtyard. As soon as she stepped through the gate, countless eyes fell on her.

Several acquaintances who had worked with her and attended meetings with her nodded slightly across the crowd; many others were complete strangers to her, and their gazes toward her were complex and difficult to decipher.

Someone only lingered on her for a moment before turning to their companion and whispering inquiries:

"Who is this little girl?"

"What's their background?"

"They actually sent a helicopter to pick them up from Shanghai?"

Jiang Zhiyu remained calm and composed, casually glancing at the expressions of everyone around her.

Among the crowd, some people had an irrepressible curiosity and excitement in their eyes, while others had a heavy sadness that they could not hide.

Her heart sank suddenly, and she instantly understood the cause and effect.

The fact that Old Zhuge arranged for her to make such a grand entrance must have been pre-arranged with his former leader, who was lying in his sickbed.

Even though the old man was on his deathbed, he still wanted to support her one last time, allowing her, who had never appeared in public at the top, to openly reveal her identity in front of a group of leaders.

This is the last path the old man paved for her with the rest of his life.

A warm, sour feeling instantly welled up in Jiang Zhiyu's eyes. She forcibly suppressed her surging emotions, raised her hand to smooth the hem of her clothes, and followed Secretary Li straight inside without looking to the side.

As she walked through the long corridor, ignoring the various gazes directed at her, she neither returned the greetings nor bothered with formalities; at that moment, her mind was simply too busy to engage in any unnecessary social interactions.

Secretary Li escorted her all the way to the entrance of a secluded courtyard in the inner courtyard.

Two rows of fully armed guards stood outside the gate, maintaining a tight security.

Zhuge Yunhe was already waiting at the courtyard gate.

These past few days, he's been staying by the old man's bedside day and night without closing his eyes once. His face has turned a bloodless, ashen gray, and there are two deep, dark bruises under his eyes.

Upon seeing Jiang Zhiyu, he strode forward, grabbed her arm, and without exchanging any pleasantries, pulled her into the courtyard.

Stepping through the courtyard gate, Zhuge Yunhe turned back and solemnly instructed the guards outside: "No one is allowed to enter without my permission. Wait for my instructions."

"Yes, sir!" the guard immediately stood at attention and responded.

Jiang Zhiyu was pulled into the inner room by him. As soon as the ward door was pushed open, the light and mellow aroma of Chinese medicine wafted out.

The elderly man in the hospital bed was leaning against the raised headboard. His face was ashen and bluish, and his breathing was weak and shallow, with his chest barely rising and falling.

Several older men stood by the bed. Jiang Zhiyu did not recognize them. They were all dressed casually, with red and swollen eyes, clearly having endured a long period of torment while waiting there.

Upon seeing Zhuge Yunhe bring Jiang Zhiyu in, the eldest among them stepped forward, his voice low and cautious: "This must be the person our old leader has been waiting to see, right?"

Zhuge Yunhe nodded slowly: "It's her. You all go out for now and leave her to speak with the old man alone."

The group exchanged glances, offered no objections, and slowly walked away from Jiang Zhiyu one by one.

As they passed by, everyone instinctively lowered their heads and bowed slightly in greeting to her.

They didn't know Jiang Zhiyu's identity, but they were clear about the significance of the old man lying in bed. Someone who could receive a private meeting from the old man on his deathbed deserved their humility and respect.

Jiang Zhiyu felt a lump in her throat again, but she didn't say anything, only nodded slightly in acknowledgment.

The group left the ward, the door closing gently behind them, and the room instantly fell into silence.

The old-fashioned lamp cast a soft, yellowish light, which fell on the old leader's gaunt face. In just over twenty days, the old man had become so thin that he was barely recognizable as skin and bones.

Jiang Zhiyu walked slowly to the bedside, knelt down, and gently placed her hand on the old man's withered and cold hand.

Most of my palm had lost its warmth, with only a faint trace of warmth remaining in the center.

She lightly bit her lower lip, without any hesitation, and with a thought, she took out a small bottle of spiritual spring water that shimmered with a faint glow from her personal space and unscrewed the cap.

With one hand firmly supporting the old man's neck, and the other hand gently pressing the bottle opening against his chapped lips, he slowly fed him spring water, little by little.

Zhuge Yunhe stood quietly at the foot of the bed, watching the whole scene clearly.

As the bottle of spiritual spring water was completely consumed, the old man's dry, cracked lips, like tree bark, gradually softened and became moist, and his originally ashen and lifeless face slowly regained a faint hue.

As a successor of the Five Lineages of Metaphysics, he was used to all sorts of strange tales and techniques, but witnessing such a miraculous resurrection still gave him a sudden realization.

In the past, whenever supplies were stored or retrieved or special abilities were used, Jiang Zhiyu would always clear the area and avoid everyone. He used to think it was just a rule, but now that he saw it with his own eyes, he understood the reason.

Such extraordinary abilities are too fantastical and too burdensome to be easily revealed to others.

Zhuge Yunhe subconsciously took a half step back, his back pressed tightly against the wall, his heart filled with mixed feelings.

There were some scenes he shouldn't have witnessed; they were scenes he would remember for a lifetime.

He immediately looked towards the bed.