Chapter 144: Chapter 144: Bold and Decisive

Ding Yan picked up a piece of treated leather and used a small knife to slice a neat, inch-long cut into it, simulating a wound. She then began to operate with practiced proficiency.

She cleansed her hands, sterilized her tools, and threaded the needle, her fingers as steady as a rock. The silver needle pulled the silk thread through the edge of the leather. With a flick of her wrist, the needle pierced out from the other side. The stitches were even and smooth, the tension just right. In a matter of moments, the "wound" was sutured. The knots were small, secure, and aesthetically pleasing.

"Although we Martial Artists can skip the sterilization step, saving even a little True Essence goes a long way. Therefore, all steps must start from the basics," Ding Yan said as she put down her tools and looked at Fang Chen. "Now, it’s your turn. Use the same leather and tools to try suturing the simplest straight cut. There is no need to rush; aim for accuracy and stability first."

She pushed another piece of leather with an identical cut in front of Fang Chen. The moment he took it, a thought flashed through his mind.

He entered Time Stop.

Fang Chen quickly completed his first suture. He stared at the messily stitched practice leather on the table and frowned. Even though he had undergone theoretical study and basic tactile training, his unfamiliarity was fully exposed when actually doing it by hand. The angle of the needle tip, the depth of penetration, the force of pulling the thread, the stability of the knots—every single detail required thousands of tempered repetitions to form muscle memory.

Without hesitation, he picked up a new piece of leather and his tools to begin practicing again. Cutting, threading, suturing, removing stitches, and suturing again... In the absolute silence of the Time Stop Domain, he focused entirely on his task, repeating the extremely tedious motions over and over. Fortunately, Fang Chen’s currently powerful vision allowed him to easily capture the slightest deviation of every stitch and correct it in his next attempt.

One piece, two pieces... The specially made leather on hand was soon used up. Although the suturing effects had improved, they still appeared amateurish, far from reaching his own standard of "secure and aesthetically pleasing."

He wondered, "I’m out of leather... What should I use?"

Fang Chen paused his movements and swept his gaze across the frozen activity room. His eyes glided over Ding Yan’s fair arm, exposed by her rolled-up sleeve, and suddenly stopped.

He thought, "Huh? Isn’t there better ’practice material’ right here? A ready-made human body... complete with the elasticity of real skin, muscle texture, and blood vessel distribution."

There were more than just the two of them in the activity room. A few other members of the Liuyun Society were either meditating in the corners or flipping through mission briefings. At this moment, they were all like exquisite wax figures.

Fang Chen picked up his scalpel and walked to Ding Yan’s side. The blade fell gently, slicing a straight, inch-long cut of appropriate depth on the outer side of her left arm. Bright red blood instantly oozed from the wound and slowly spread out.

The pooling blood affected Fang Chen’s field of vision and his suturing operations. He immediately recalled the content Ding Yan had taught a few days ago. The human body had several key acupoints; sealing them with a Finger Technique using True Essence could temporarily block local blood vessels and slow down bleeding. Recalling their locations, he channeled a trace of True Essence and executed acupoint stimulation precisely near Ding Yan’s heart and on a few spots along her arm.

The blood flow visibly slowed down until it nearly stopped. However, Fang Chen remembered Ding Yan saying that this method of hemostasis should ideally not exceed half an hour, or else it could cause tissue necrosis and the death of myocardial cells. Although a Martial Artist possessed a strong physique, they were ultimately still made of flesh and blood.

With the bleeding halted, he picked up his needle and thread to practice on this real wound. The authentic touch of human skin, the resilience of subcutaneous tissue, and the constant caution required to avoid deeper, tiny blood vessels were entirely different from suturing leather. He concentrated entirely, striving for precision with every stitch and thread.

After finishing practice on this arm, he moved to her right arm. Then came the calves, the thighs...

Once one person’s "practice resources" were exhausted, Fang Chen turned his gaze toward the other frozen society members in the room. Holding his scalpel, he walked toward his next target. He made the same precise cuts, used acupoint stimulation to stop the bleeding, and then began his suturing practice anew.

Within the Time Stop Domain, Fang Chen’s life was extremely monotonous. It consisted of eating, sleeping, and deciding who to slice open today. From the activity room to the dormitory area, and from the training grounds to the Library Pavilion, he shuttled through the frozen campus. With a light flash of his blade, a neat wound meant for practice would appear; with the dancing of his silver needle, countless refined sutures were made.

More than four years slipped away quietly amid the rising and falling of his needle and thread.

When Fang Chen finally stopped again, his eyes were as calm as an ancient well, and his fingers were so steady they did not tremble in the slightest. It was a kind of proficiency and confidence that had seeped deep into his bones after thousands of repetitions. He looked at the very last suture he had completed. The stitches were fine and even, the needle spacing was perfect, the wound aligned neatly, and the knots were sharp and secure. Not only was it functionally impeccable, but it also carried a certain aesthetic appeal.

He thought, "Done."

Fang Chen let out a soft sigh, a hint of satisfaction flashing through his eyes. Over four years of lonely, grueling practice—with countless wounds personally sliced open and sewn shut—had finally forged this skill to the absolute pinnacle he could currently reach.

He decided, "It’s time to return to the real world and hand in my assignment."

Time Stop ended.

As his consciousness returned to reality, the world was once again filled with sound, color, and flowing time. Even though he had experienced Time Stop many times before, Fang Chen still felt an intense wave of disorientation on a soul-deep level. This feeling was somewhat akin to the astronauts from his past life who had just returned from space and needed to readjust. He subconsciously curled his fingers inward, terrified that in a moment of absentmindedness, he might slice up the people around him.

"Hey, what are you spacing out for? It’s your turn!"

Ding Yan’s voice pulled his drifting thoughts back to the present. She pointed at the pre-cut leather and the needle and thread on the table. "Don’t be nervous. It’s perfectly normal for your first practical attempt to be crooked, ugly, or even a complete failure. When I first learned, I was scolded to tears by my father many times. Take it slow and feel the touch of the needle and thread first."

Fang Chen looked at Ding Yan, his gaze lingering for a moment on her smooth, flawless arms and cheeks.

He thought, "I almost forgot what a completely intact version of you looks like."

"Okay," he replied softly. Steadying his Heart Spirit, he reached out and took the leather and tools.

This kind of stationary, lifeless, and uniformly textured special leather could be described in a single word for the current Fang Chen: Child’s play.

He naturally picked up the threaded silver needle, his fingers so stable that they didn’t tremble at all. He drove the needle down with an angle as precise as if measured by a ruler; he pierced it through at just the right depth; he pulled it out, leaving smooth and flowing stitches. As his wrist flicked, the needle tip rose and fell rhythmically on both sides of the leather. The silk thread was pulled tight evenly, and every knot was tied small, secure, and uniformly positioned.

Meanwhile, Ding Yan had just picked up the water cup from the table and brought it to her lips. She intended to moisten her throat before giving this novice a thorough explanation of the various problems that would inevitably arise during his operation, followed by some encouragement. However, before the cup even touched her lips, her gaze was firmly nailed to Fang Chen’s movements.

"COUGH!"

Ding Yan choked on a mouthful of water and began coughing violently, spilling a bit from her cup. Her eyes widened as she stared fixatedly at the piece of leather under Fang Chen’s hands, which was rapidly being perfectly sutured. Her face was written with disbelief.

How... how was this possible?

She came from a family with a deep medical heritage. She had been exposed to this from the moment she could hold a needle steadily. It had taken her over ten years of bitter practice to reach her current level of effortless fluency, even though her technique had hit a bottleneck a few years ago and hadn’t progressed since.

But the Fang Chen before her... yesterday, when practicing the most basic needle holding and threading, he had clearly shown the clumsiness of a beginner. Today... it had only been a single day!

Did he go back and practice like a madman for a whole day and night without eating, drinking, or sleeping? No, even if he was extraordinarily gifted and practiced all day without sustenance, it was absolutely impossible for him to reach this near-instinctive level of proficiency! This wasn’t just a matter of manual dexterity; it was a profound understanding of the act of "suturing" and muscle memory. It required time, massive amounts of repetition, and comprehension to accumulate.

One day?

Absolutely impossible!

Could it be? Was he truly a genius?

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