Super Plastic Surgeon

"Are you sure you're not joking?"

In the darkness, this cold and aged voice of doubt was like an emperor issuing an imperial edict from on high.

“Yes.”

There was no storm of rage, no indignant outburst. The youthful, clearly inexperienced voice responded with an unusual calm.

A fortune that could drown a person in cash, a family background so influential that the mere flex of a finger could shake half of China—such a person, as the only heir of his illustrious family, the sole descendant for three generations, was dead set on becoming a plastic surgeon and opening his own clinic.

Such a person was either a fool beyond remedy, or a madman obsessed to the point of insanity.

As fate would have it, Lin Yang, who had just graduated from Fudan University, was clearly the latter—a textbook case of a fanatic.

Anyone who had never witnessed the terrifying power of the Thirteen Celestial Blade Techniques could not understand its wonders; those who had never applied the Golden Silkworm Powder to wounds would never know its miraculous speed of healing. These were the burning secrets hidden in Lin Yang's heart.

A boy who, by eighth grade, had already set his sights on the path of cosmetic surgery—such a rare breed is hard to imagine, yet Lin Yang was precisely this kind of oddity, and he remained so to this day, for reasons even he could not explain.

Some things are simply a matter of liking or not liking; you can’t always articulate the reason.

Ever since, at fifteen, he had stumbled upon two yellowed an