After the relocation of Virtue City First Hospital, there were actually still some buildings that hadn't been completed or renovated.

The real reason for the rushed and hectic move—very few people in Virtue City actually knew about it.

But precisely because things weren't finished or renovated yet, this time when the Scorching Sun Department allocated funding, they happened to benefit from it.

A lot of things they intended to skip to save money—they could get them now, after all.

After all, just one MRI machine costs tens of millions; even if it's domestically produced, that's still millions, and all kinds of other devices—there are plenty more like that.

Many of them are imported, because it's not just about basic treatment, diagnosis, or running tests; sometimes, they're also used for scientific research…

Scorching Sun Department allocated funds and requested that a palliative care ward be set up—not unreasonable at all, right?

Besides, it was something the hospital had planned to set up after moving anyway.

The Scorching Sun Department even established a small dedicated unit for this, managing their own monthly funding—so the hospital naturally didn't care about such a small matter.

They had already been considering the staffing issues. After all, setting up a palliative care ward—well, it sounded noble, all about humanitarian care.

To be frank, it was about reputation, but if you do a bad job, it's not your face you're showing off, it's your ass.

When Wen Yan brought Gauss Weil to the palliative care ward at the back of the hospital, he stood at the door.

"The power of pain here is so intense..."

In his eyes, the patients on the beds were constantly radiating waves of pain, and within that power was a scorching, fiery sensation.

This made Gauss Weil distinctly uncomfortable; his face turned solemn, and indeed, he was having new feelings about all of this.

Work really isn't a comfortable thing—the netizens were right.

At first, when Wen Yan suggested he take this job, to help ease the final suffering of patients—honestly, he wasn't too keen.

Letting a Pain Demon absorb others' pain—how could that be considered work?

What kind of Pain Demon wouldn't willingly do this job? There's nothing painful about it at all.

Now he realized he had been too hasty—he'd seriously underestimated how difficult this would be.

Gauss Weil was dressed in a black suit, his figure tall and composed, his hair immaculately styled. Coupled with his serious, earnest expression, a stranger might take him for a visiting clergy member.

The patients on the beds, already unable to speak, looked somewhat resistant.

When Gauss Weil tried to take their hands, the patients all struggled.

Gauss Weil felt that amid the power of pain, there was that same burning intensity—he wore a solemn, grave expression, as if he could sense what the dying old man was thinking.

"I'm not with any religious sect from outside, and I wasn't born in another country. You can call me Gauss. I'm a staff member in the palliative care unit."

Hearing Gauss Weil's precise accent, the old man gradually relaxed.

Wen Yan watched from the sidelines, saying nothing. What Gauss Weil said wasn't wrong—he truly wasn't born in a foreign country, though also not in the Divine Land, and he certainly wasn't with any outside sect.

If you insisted, he was more like an object of worship for a small Devil Sect from the outside.

Gauss Weil held the old man's hand, slowly absorbing the pain within his body. The pain itself wasn't a problem—the scorching part was, though. It made Gauss Weil incredibly uncomfortable, like drinking ice-cold Holy Water.

Gauss Weil's face remained unchanged—this kind of pain was nothing. He kept at it, removing the old man's pain bit by bit, trying to make him feel better. That was his job.

As time passed, Gauss Weil said nothing, and the elderly man, whose consciousness had been fading and whose speech was unintelligible, gradually regained some clarity.

Wen Yan stepped forward and produced his credentials.

"Sir, here are my credentials. I'm a team leader of a Scorching Sun Department special task force. This is an expert we've brought in. Are you feeling a bit better?"

The old man nodded and looked at Gauss Weil, offering a sheepish smile.

Just a moment ago, he thought some foreign sect had come here to proselytize, forgetting that there really were people who looked like Gauss Weil in the Divine Land.

Gauss Weil's face was still grave; he felt so miserable he didn't want to speak. It was as if he was being burned alive, flames searing him from the inside out.

In the fire, he saw gunfire and bullets tearing through flesh—the sharp, searing pain was intense, but that was nothing.

When, amid the flames, he watched everyone around him fall one by one, a pain from somewhere deep inside finally touched him.

That pain was like fire, burning. The power from all that pain seemed to ignite, turning into fuel to sustain what came next.

Wen Yan walked out of the ward and beckoned to the family waiting outside, letting them go in.

The elderly man, whose mind was barely clear—in these last lucid moments at the edge of life—of course his children should be by his side.

Wen Yan himself retreated to the doorway. He looked at Gauss Weil and noticed sweat trickling down his temples, traces of his hair starting to frizzle as if scorched.

He hesitated for a moment, then came up behind Gauss Weil, placing one hand on his shoulder.

Instantly, he got pulled in too.

But what Wen Yan felt was different from Gauss Weil. What he saw was an old hero—a life full of passion, determination burned into conviction. Even the power of pain itself was set ablaze, turned into fuel to let him keep fighting on.

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