Chapter 249: A Legendary Extraction: Hidden Talents Revealed in the Operating Room

“Dr. Zhou can even handle anesthesia! My god, is there anything he can’t do?” Xie Lin couldn’t help but marvel as she watched Zhou Can expertly assist the anesthesiologist.

Zhou Can himself didn’t think much of it.

He’d done so many anesthesia procedures he’d lost count.

In the beginning he’d just been helping out, but over time he’d gradually picked up all the necessary skills. Now he could handle simple anesthesia procedures on his own.

Of course, nothing too complex—after all, his current level wasn’t much above a junior resident.

There was still a mountain of skills and knowledge he needed to learn.

It was said the truly skilled anesthesiologists could not only keep patients safe during surgery but could even predict postoperative recovery times.

With Zhou Can at the helm, the patient quickly slipped into general anesthesia, completely unaware of the world.

He also managed to earn a point of anesthesia experience.

This patient’s general anesthesia wasn’t technically difficult. The real challenge came from their frail, malnourished body—which greatly increased both anesthesia and surgical risks.

Some patients who die during the perioperative period show no signs of trouble during surgery. Then, afterward, they might suffer sudden complications like pulmonary edema, venous embolism, or cardiac and respiratory arrest.

When that happens, things turn dire fast. Even with the doctors doing everything they can, it can be nearly impossible to save them.

“Sorry I’m late!”

Wu Baihe seemed to have timed it perfectly, rushing in just as the anesthesia finished.

For a moment, Zhou Can was surprised—he’d thought Director Wen would be running this surgery.

He never expected Wu Baihe to show up in person.

“Director Wu, it’s great to see you! I should explain—I called Deputy Director Ye to complain about your department, but it was really just about the nurse and doctor who answered. They were so bureaucratic, I couldn’t stand it. I never meant it as a slight against you.”

Director Shang watched as the top surgeon in the department arrived in person for this operation.

Any annoyance he’d been feeling had vanished long ago.

He took the initiative to explain things to Wu Baihe.

Even though Director Shang was a departmental chief with a high title, standing next to a super-famous doctor like Wu Baihe, he seemed just a bit overshadowed.

You couldn’t quite put your finger on it, but he just felt outclassed.

Standing side by side, their difference was obvious.

Wu Baihe’s presence easily eclipsed Director Shang’s.

“I truly had no idea about any of this,” Wu Baihe said. “Some of our nurses and doctors in Neurosurgery can be a bit prideful in their speech. Please don’t take it to heart, Director Shang. Deputy Director Ye hasn’t spoken to me about this nor called me yet. It’s a minor issue, nothing worth worrying about.”

Wu Baihe listened in mild surprise, then waved it off with a generous smile.

He even went out of his way to put Director Shang at ease.

Honestly, with Wu Baihe’s reputation and skills, no one would dare touch him over something so minor. Even something ten times worse probably wouldn’t make a dent.

Doctors like him were celebrities to the hospital; they always got special treatment.

No one would risk upsetting their star talent over some trivial matter.

“Ah… so Deputy Director Ye hasn’t mentioned any of this to you? Then why did you come race over here for the surgery?”

Director Shang was left reeling, feeling as if a flock of crows had just flown over his head.

Talk about bad luck.

He was bullied by Neurosurgery’s staff, complained to the deputy director, and then got the cold shoulder.

All along, he’d thought the sudden warmth from Neurosurgery was because they’d been scolded. Turns out he’d been giving himself too much credit.

“For little things like this, Deputy Director Ye will probably wait for the right time to bring it up. As for why I’m here in person, it’s because of him.”

Wu Baihe pointed at Zhou Can.

In that instant, every eye in the room turned to Zhou Can.

The Neurosurgery nurses and Dr. Guan, the anesthesiologist, all knew Zhou Can had a special status in the department, favored by Wu Baihe and others. So they weren’t surprised at all.

Director Shang and his three graduate students from Gastroenterology, however, had no clue Zhou Can wielded such influence. Right now, they were in absolute shock.

“Here’s the story: Zhou Can called Director Wen, asking us to help this patient with a brain sparganum infection get operated on quickly. Director Wen promised him we’d add the surgery after six this evening. But right now, Director Wen’s busy in another important procedure and can’t break away, so he asked me to come help instead.”

Wu Baihe broke down the situation in a few sentences.

“Zhou, just so we’re clear: don’t think Director Wen’s blowing you off. He promised to come help you, and he really takes it to heart. When they were scheduling the OR today, he even made sure the number two room was cleared for you after six. The only reason he can’t be here is something happened in his surgery.”

Wu Baihe had come himself, completely to reassure Zhou Can.

He didn’t want Zhou Can to mistakenly think Director Wen was neglecting him.

“Thank you, thank you both for caring about me so much. I’m really touched.”

Zhou Can nodded earnestly, his gratitude written all over his face.

Even after being away from Neurosurgery for so long, these chief physicians still valued him—it felt like being treasured in the palm of their hands.

It was only now Director Shang realized why Neurosurgery had been so enthusiastic and scheduled surgery so soon. It had nothing to do with his complaint—instead, Zhou Can had quietly called Director Wen.

“Dr. Zhou, you really keep a low profile! So you called in favors to get this done—why didn’t you say something?” Though his words sounded reproachful, Director Shang was actually grateful and full of praise.

“I was meaning to tell you after calling Director Wen, but when I got to your office you were off teaching at the university. I wanted to explain later but never found the chance, so I just let it go.”

Zhou Can explained apologetically.

There was one more thing he didn’t say: how could he have known Director Shang would run off and complain about Neurosurgery?

Now that the graduate students understood the truth, the way they looked at Zhou Can changed yet again.

Their slight admiration transformed into utter awe.

And if they weren’t already envious of Zhou Can, now they were.

Never in their wildest dreams did they imagine a trainee could have such standing—especially in the notoriously elite Neurosurgery Department.

To them, Zhou Can was basically the ultimate benchmark for a trainee.

“Alright, let’s get on with the operation! I have other things to attend to later.”

Wu Baihe was a major figure with a packed schedule. For him to personally come and oversee this surgery was really giving Zhou Can maximum respect.

“Zhou, you take the lead!”

Wu Baihe’s words left Director Shang and the others speechless.

This was a craniotomy—a major brain surgery.

To let a trainee do it… Was Wu Baihe fearless, or just never burned before?

Even associate chief physicians usually hesitated with craniotomies.

Craniotomies demanded surgical precision and nerves of steel.

The slightest slip could have deadly consequences—the dura was packed with vital blood vessels and nerves. Damage anything by mistake and disaster could strike.

“Thank you for trusting me, Director Wu.”

Zhou Can was usually a modest guy, but when it came to taking charge of an operation, he never hesitated.

He headed straight for the main position at the operating table.

The patient was already shaved and prepped. After sterilization, the incision line had been marked.

That line was exactly where the sparganum was hidden.

Being the lead surgeon now gave Zhou Can the best chance of pinpointing the parasite and removing it cleanly.

The ideal solution was to cut open only the scalp and extract the worm directly.

He checked the surgical instruments prepared by the nurse—everything was in order.

Toothed forceps and fine-tipped tweezers—the standard tools for manipulating parasites—were set out.

These differ from regular forceps in small but crucial ways.

They have tiny horizontal grooves at the tips, which help prevent slipping.

Some parasites secrete mucus on their surface.

That can make them hard to grasp, and they might even wriggle free.

But with these forceps, that wouldn’t happen.

Once you clamped down on the body’s parasite, it was almost impossible for it to escape. You could steady your grip and apply just enough force.

Zhou Can took up the scalpel but didn’t rush to cut.

He stared intensely at the marked incision site, waiting in absolute silence.

Wu Baihe trusted him deeply and didn’t hurry him along.

Director Shang must have realized what he was waiting for, because he also held his silence, patiently watching.

After about fifteen or sixteen minutes, Zhou Can made his move.

His scalpel flashed down like lightning.

In a single swift motion, he split open the scalp, revealing muscle and skull beneath.

His sharp eyes spotted a white speck, and with his left hand he quickly clamped it with the tweezers.

There, a long white shape squirmed, its head and body twisting and writhing.

Especially the head—it was thrashing about hungrily.

Moving fast, too.

“That’s definitely a parasite. Judging by the look, it’s sparganum for sure.”

Wu Baihe had taken out spargana from brains more than once.

He’d seen everything.

A single look told him Zhou Can had grabbed the right thing.

“Being able to clamp its head from the get-go, keeping it from slipping deeper into the skull—now that’s impressive.” Wu Baihe offered genuine praise.

In the past year that they’d been apart, he’d found Zhou Can’s skills had skyrocketed.

From his speed, accuracy, and steady control in making the incision, to knowing when to stop—everything was spot on.

He’d reached that rare state where every movement was smooth and effortless.

Usually, only associate chief surgeons with years of training could reach this level.

Yet here he was, a trainee with less than two years of surgical experience blowing everyone away.

After cutting, his left hand immediately grabbed the parasite at lightning speed—showing off remarkable mastery of the Grasping Technique.

Grasping was an advanced medical skill, one of the foundations of endoscopic surgery.

Just what kind of monster was Zhou Can?

Wu Baihe could already see the day when Tuyu Hospital would have a new surgical legend, one who would surpass even himself, Dr. Hu Kan, or Dr. Xu.

As the saying goes: outsiders watch for excitement, insiders watch for technique.

To the three graduate students, Zhou Can’s incision and parasite extraction just seemed like basic, routine moves—nothing fancy.

They didn’t realize: showing perfect control over something difficult—that was true mastery.

It’s like a martial arts grandmaster—when their skills reach perfection, every move looks plain as day.

The truth was, their surgical abilities were too basic; they couldn’t even comprehend Zhou Can’s strength.

Only Director Shang could appreciate how outstanding Zhou Can truly was.

“Had I known this kid had such crazy skills, I never would have asked Neurosurgery for help. Our own department could’ve handled it.”

Director Shang thought ruefully.

He’d wasted so much time and energy just asking for help.

“Careful, it’s pulling hard, retreating deeper into the cranial cavity. If I pull too hard, it might snap right off.” Zhou Can said, gauging the resistance as he tried to draw the worm out.

The frightened parasite was instinctively retreating into the skull.

Its body was stretching out like a rubber band, growing longer and thinner.

Zhou Can was especially worried about it breaking.

“Don’t worry—add a little medication and it’ll behave.”

Wu Baihe, with his vast surgical experience, quickly grabbed a prepped vial from the nurse and injected the medicine onto the parasite.

The medicine seemed to sting worse than acid, and the worm thrashed even harder.

Zhou Can dared not use excessive force, still afraid of breaking it.

All he could do was gingerly balance his hold.

Thankfully, after about forty or fifty seconds of struggling, the medication took effect. The parasite started to weaken, and he slowly drew it out bit by bit.

One centimeter, two, three…

Even after pulling out six centimeters, there was still more to go. Zhou Can and everyone else were stunned.

He kept pulling.

Putting down the scalpel, Zhou Can let Wu Baihe take over with the retractors, pulling back the scalp to widen the field.

Director Shang snapped out of it and started cauterizing the bleeding with the electrocautery knife.

Unfortunately, his hemostasis skills were less than stellar—barely up to a junior attending’s standard.

Who knew internal medicine doctors’ surgical ability could be so… interesting.

“A little bleeding’s fine, Director Shang, take a break.”

Wu Baihe couldn’t stand to watch anymore and quickly told Director Shang to stop. He was worried about excessive burning of the scalp tissue, which would seriously affect healing.

“Alright!”

Director Shang’s old face turned bright red.

He put down the electrocautery knife and stepped back.

He understood that Wu Baihe was letting him save face. His hemostasis was barely passable on routine wounds, but here, working on the head and in front of top Neurosurgery professionals, he looked like an intern.

No wonder he was told to stop immediately.

“Man, how long is this thing?”

Zhou Can asked, half to ease the tension for Director Shang.

The worm really was shocking—over ten centimeters, and still more to go.

“Sparganum can reach incredible lengths when they’ve been inside a host long enough. Steady hands—don’t rush or get careless. If you do this right, we won’t need to do a full craniotomy.”

Wu Baihe guided from the side.

The patient was incredibly weak and a full craniotomy would be tremendously risky. If they could remove the parasite just by opening the scalp, they’d save the patient money, minimize trauma, and reduce complications.

Zhou Can had no other option, gripping two pairs of forceps and slowly shifting his grip along the worm.

And so, inch by inch, he drew the parasite out of the patient’s body.

Nearly forty minutes later, they’d finally gotten the entire thing out.

They measured it on a tray: fifty-seven centimeters long. The length alone made everyone shiver.

Even the doctors and nurses had never seen a sparganum grow like this.

“We could probably apply for a Guinness record—I’ve never seen a brain parasite this long!”

The three operating room nurses stared in horror at the sparganum still writhing in the tray.

These parasites were frighteningly tough—there was hardly a drug that could kill them. Surgery was still the recognized gold standard for removal.

“It’s terrifying! Just watching makes my skin crawl. Never in my life will I eat frog or snake meat again.”

Xie Lin stared at the worm, her eyes full of fear.

It wasn’t just her; Luo Jingyin was so scared her face went pale, clinging to Xie Lin from behind like a timid two-year-old—scared but too curious to look away.