The accident site was not far from the Health Clinic. Just as Du Heng hung up, their vehicle reached the general vicinity.

But now, they had to confirm exactly where the vehicle had overturned.

If it was in the field beside the road, Du Heng and his team would have to ascend via the main road. If it had flipped directly into the ditch, they would need to enter from the fork leading up the mountain and proceed along the ditch bottom.

If it was at the bottom of the ditch, the vehicles wouldn’t be able to enter.

Furthermore, the ditch bottom, constantly eroded by rain, was full of small water channels, and various large stones lay strewn across them.

Just as Du Heng and his team reached the ditch entrance, Yu Haiting, who had rushed ahead to scout, called. "Dean, it’s a tricycle, six people on board. Two people were thrown into the field below the road; they don’t look good. The other four and the tricycle have all flipped into the ditch."

Du Heng’s heart hammered against his ribs; even his voice trembled.

Hearing the word "tricycle," an image of Bing in his large gloves and his wife, bundled up tightly, flashed through Du Heng’s mind.

However, Du Heng knew he couldn’t panic now. He took a deep breath. The frigid air stung his gums, making them feel cold and sore, and sent an icy chill through his chest. But it also slowed his racing heart and cleared his muddled mind.

"You go rescue the two people up there. I’ll take the others into the ditch."

Yu Haiting, on the other end, was panting heavily, and Du Heng could hear the muffled thuds of him stumbling. "I’m already running down to the field," Yu Haiting managed.

"Do you have enough people?"

"Enough. There are five of us in my car. It’s enough."

"Be careful. Prioritize your own safety."

"I know, Dean."

Du Heng hung up, immediately got out of the car, and yelled, "Everyone out! Grab something, anything! We’re going in through the ditch! Move, move!"

At Du Heng’s command, the doors of the vehicles waiting by the roadside flew open. People scrambled to the ambulance, grabbing medical kits and stretchers, then quickly ran towards the ditch entrance.

Just then, Gong Daoyang approached Du Heng’s side and asked in a low voice, "What’s the situation?"

Du Heng’s expression was grim. He whispered, "It’s a tricycle. Six people on board. Two were thrown into the fields by the road. The condition of the other four in the ditch is unknown."

Gong Daoyang’s face instantly turned deathly pale, but he remained composed and didn’t lose his nerve.

He didn’t ask Du Heng any further questions. Instead, he turned to his colleagues and ordered, "Go with the Health Clinic doctors! Help them carry their equipment! Get to the accident site as fast as possible! Move out, quickly!"

The main group began advancing along the bottom of the ditch. Although Du Heng had anticipated how treacherous the ditch would be, its actual difficulty surpassed his expectations.

The ditch bottom was narrow and treacherous, riddled with countless small channels carved by mountain runoff. Disordered stones littered these rivulets, and the heavy snow cover completely obscured what lay beneath their feet.

Stepping on a flat stone was bearable, but landing on a sharp one sent pain shooting through the sole and often caused them to slip and fall.

The group stumbled along, struggling to make headway, their pace agonizingly slow.

Du Heng watched, his heart heavy with anxiety, but he was helpless.

Wu Buwei, at the head of the group, had already fallen countless times. A young nurse beside him had scraped her palms, leaving several bloody handprints on the pristine snow.

Du Heng pushed forward, slipping and falling several times himself, his hands and legs aching, but he finally reached the front of the group. "Buwei, get behind me. I’ll lead."

Wu Buwei had grown up in the city and had no experience with such terrain.

Although Du Heng hadn’t traversed such terrain in over a decade due to his studies and work, he still felt he’d be better at navigating it than Wu Buwei.

Thus, a path that would take less than a minute by car took them a grueling five minutes on foot. By the time they rounded a bend and the accident scene came into view, all twenty-plus members of the party had sustained various scrapes and bruises, their clothes caked with mud and dirt.

The whole group looked utterly wretched.

Thankfully, however, no one complained or faltered. Notably, the four female nurses from his Health Clinic showed no signs of squeamishness, sticking closely behind Du Heng.

A few more steps, and the pristine white snow was marred by a gash of yellowish-brown earth, a long, ugly scar stretching downwards, looking both hideous and menacing.

Looking down this ’scar,’ Du Heng’s stomach churned, and saliva flooded his mouth.

Of the four young nurses Du Heng had just silently commended, two were already retching against a large boulder, while the other two looked like they were about to be sick.

A battered, faded-blue tricycle lay overturned at the bottom of the ditch. A figure was pinned beneath its front. The most horrifying sight was the victim’s head, positioned right beside a sharp stone completely drenched in red. The head lolled limply.

The snow beneath was stained crimson, already showing signs of having melted and refrozen.

Nearby lay a woman’s body, caked in mud from head to toe. From the neck down, she was clearly visible, but her head was obscured by the tricycle’s chassis. Only a patch of blood-red snow beside her stood out, stark and glaring.

Further on, about seven or eight meters away, another person lay motionless on the ground, surrounded only by the yellowish-brown mud and white snow, devoid of any other color.

Du Heng took a deep breath, fighting down the nausea, and yelled, "Rescue them!" before once again leading the way forward.

He had a weakness, a fatal flaw for a doctor: he couldn’t stand the sight of exposed flesh and bone. He would shudder involuntarily at such scenes.

That was why he had chosen traditional Chinese medicine in college, rather than Western medicine, which offered better job prospects and income. Back then, he’d imagined traditional Chinese medicine was all acupuncture and herbal decoctions, while Western doctors all wielded scalpels.

Only after starting his studies did he realize not all Western doctors used scalpels. And only after starting work did he learn that all doctors, sooner or later, had to face such gruesome sights.

He’d been constantly trying to overcome this psychological barrier. But now, there was no time for effort; he had to confront it, and he had to conquer it.

He chose the most gruesome victim—the person pinned by the front of the tricycle, someone who looked disturbingly familiar.

As he drew closer and squatted, he became certain. The person before him was Bing, the man who had spoken to him that very morning.

No breath. No pulse.

As he tried to reposition Bing, he noticed that beside the bloodied rock near Bing’s head, there wasn’t just red, but a horrifying mixture of red and white.

And it wasn’t the white of snow.

"Dean?" The nurse beside him, having just vomited, still looked pale and unwell but managed to ask softly when Du Heng didn’t move.

Du Heng fought to control his trembling hands and voice, to keep from vomiting. "Check the next one."

Meanwhile, Gong Daoyang and his men were trying to lift the tricycle to free the person trapped underneath, while Wu Buwei and his team hurried towards the distant figure.

Du Heng didn’t dare look as Gong Daoyang’s group lifted the vehicle. He walked past, eyes fixed forward, and reached Wu Buwei’s side.

Wu Buwei was trembling even more violently than Du Heng. They shared a similar aversion; he remembered Wu Buwei’s reaction back in May when asked to clean a placenta—it hadn’t been much better than Du Heng’s own typical response.

But today, like Du Heng, he had to confront his fear head-on.

Fortunately, this victim had no obvious external injuries, only a large amount of blood issuing from the mouth. Though his hands and body trembled, Wu Buwei managed to complete a full examination.

He slowly rose and shook his head at Du Heng. "No signs of life."

Du Heng couldn’t even bring himself to take a deep breath; he didn’t dare.

Just as he was about to speak, Gong Daoyang’s voice called from behind, "President Du, come take a look!"

Du Heng’s heart clenched again.

He was very familiar with the tricycle’s structure; he knew what part was crushing that body.

He had been steeling himself for this, and hearing Gong Daoyang’s call, he tried to reinforce his mental defenses.

But when he turned and saw it, he couldn’t hold back any longer and vomited violently.

So much for mental preparation. So much for psychological defenses. They were utterly useless against the horror of that sight.

Du Heng stumbled a few steps, clutching the cliff face opposite, and retched violently. Hearing him, Wu Buwei couldn’t hold it in either and, moving a short distance away, began to spray vomit as well.

But once he’d emptied his stomach, Du Heng felt a strange sense of relief—a psychological unburdening.

When he turned back to the overturned tricycle, though his stomach still roiled, he found he could control himself, could stop himself from looking away, from recoiling.

He wiped his mouth, exhaled softly, and walked towards Gong Daoyang. "Gong, all three in the ditch are dead at the scene. Are there any procedures you need to handle?"

Gong Daoyang had composed himself considerably by now. Some color had returned to his face, though his expression remained exceptionally grim.

Hearing Du Heng, he glanced over and waved to Du Heng’s old classmate, Liu Gong. "Take photos. Inventory their belongings. Once you’re done, have the bodies transported out. Notify the others to cordon off the ditch entrance."

Liu Gong said nothing, merely nodding before turning and leaving.

Gong Daoyang looked at Du Heng and sighed softly—whether for himself or for Du Heng, it was unclear. "Brother, let’s get out of here."