I Am Diagnosed as a Medical Titan

Chapter 106: Chapter 105: Putting Zhiyu on a Pedestal

Inside the library, Jiang He was lost in thought.

In today’s pathophysiology class, Old Xie had focused on the pathogenesis of hepatic encephalopathy. He’d clearly stated that ammonia crossing the blood-brain barrier to cause central nervous system dysfunction was the core mechanism of the disease.

In 2008, this was indeed the universally accepted, authoritative theory in the medical community.

But in reality, this theory was already outdated.

Future research would prove that it was dysbiosis of the gut flora that led to changes in metabolic products.

Ammonia was merely one link in this complex network.

In his past life, after his wife passed away, Jiang He had poured all his energy into pancreatic surgery and oncology.

But as a top surgeon, he had naturally dabbled in the major theoretical breakthroughs in the digestive and hepatobiliary fields as well.

For these advanced theories outside his main focus, he knew *what* they were, but not *why* they were.

That being the case, the most profitable course of action was to present the conclusion directly.

Jiang He planned to use his Zhiyu account to just throw the conclusion out there.

Doing this would, on one hand, help advance domestic medical concepts and shorten the gap with future cutting-edge knowledge.

On the other hand, it would also completely elevate Zhiyu to god-like status.

”Alright, let’s head back,” Jiang He said, unplugging his USB drive and packing his things.

Chen Hao closed his book, seeming a bit reluctant to leave. ”Let’s go.”

As they walked out of the library, the shadows of the trees along the main campus road swayed in the night, and the light from the streetlamps seemed somewhat dim.

Jiang He walked with his hands in his pockets, mentally drafting the post he was going to make later.

However,

just as they were rounding a corner on a downhill slope,

the unexpected happened.

A bicycle shot down the slope at high speed.

They were too close, and the bike was carrying immense momentum from the downhill slope. A collision was unavoidable.

BANG!

The bicycle knocked Jiang He to the ground.

He grimaced in pain, his brow furrowed.

The cyclist hadn’t fared much better, having fallen sideways onto the pavement.

The rider was a young man. He’d taken a nasty fall but quickly scrambled to his feet and limped over to Jiang He.

”I’m so sorry, so sorry! Are you okay?”

Jiang He took a moment to assess himself. Besides a sharp pain in his ankle that felt like a sprain, he seemed to be fine.

”It’s nothing serious. I just twisted my ankle.”

After speaking, Jiang He looked up.

When he saw the young man’s face clearly in the dim streetlight, he couldn’t help but freeze for a second.

’This person... he looks kind of familiar?’

’Did I see him in a TV interview in my past life?’

Because it had been so long ago, and the other person was still just a green student, Jiang He couldn’t quite place who he was.

Hearing it was just a sprained ankle, the young man breathed a small sigh of relief, but the urgency on his face didn’t lessen in the slightest.

”I’m really sorry! Hey, I have something incredibly urgent I have to get to right now. I can’t stay here any longer!”

As he spoke, he pulled out a pen and a piece of scratch paper, scribbled down a series of numbers, and shoved it into the hand of Chen Hao, who had been about to let him have it.

”This is my phone number! Please, could you look after him? Whatever happens, whatever medical bills there are, call me anytime. I absolutely won’t bail. I owe you guys one!”

With that, the young man turned, picked up his bicycle, and pedaled furiously, quickly disappearing into the darkness at the end of the road.

Chen Hao clutched the piece of paper, his brow furrowed, and couldn’t help but complain, ”What’s wrong with that guy? Why was he riding so fast on campus? It’s so dangerous!”

Jiang He stared thoughtfully at the dark corner where the young man had vanished.

After a moment, he pushed himself up from the ground and said, ”It’s fine. Let’s go.”

However, the moment he took a step, a sharp pain shot through his ankle.

Jiang He couldn’t help but suck in a sharp breath of cold air, his body swaying.

Seeing this, Chen Hao didn’t say another word and crouched down in front of Jiang He.

”Stop trying to walk. Get on, I’ll carry you.”

Jiang He waved his hand. ”No need.”

Chen Hao shot him an impatient glare. ”Hurry up. What’s there to be shy about? We’re practically blood brothers. Cut the crap.”

Jiang He was speechless.

Feeling the swelling and throbbing pain in his ankle grow more pronounced, Jiang He knew that pushing through an acute sprain would only worsen the local exudation, so he didn’t refuse again.

Back at the dorm, Chen Hao administered a series of treatments for Jiang He.

Jiang He said softly, ”Thanks, man.”

Chen Hao tsked. ”Don’t mention it. If I didn’t take good care of you, my dad would break my legs when he gets home.”

Jiang He smiled.

Once the pain in his ankle had subsided a bit, he turned and booted up his computer.

He logged into the Garden.

His inbox was still overflowing with private messages; he could barely keep up with them anymore.

Jiang He clicked on the ”New Post” section, and after a moment of thought, began to type:

[On Current Medical Misconceptions and Future Guidelines: The Fallacy of the Core Pathogenesis of Hepatic Encephalopathy and Its Future Evolution]

The main text began.

Jiang He got straight to the point:

”Current clinical treatment for hepatic encephalopathy revolves almost entirely around lowering blood ammonia. While the ammonia intoxication theory certainly has historical value, to regard it as the sole or core pathogenic mechanism of HE is a narrow and outdated misconception.

”... (omitted) ...”

”Based on the mechanisms described above, future HE treatment must, in addition to traditional ammonia-lowering therapies, incorporate targeted interventions for gut flora, such as the use of non-absorbable broad-spectrum antibiotics (like rifaximin) and the remodeling of specific probiotic populations.”

”I hope you all will change your thinking on this matter sooner rather than later.”

It was a lengthy post, but there was no fluff—just one solid conclusion after another.

This was the curb-stomping advantage that came from knowing the ’what’.

After checking for typos and logical consistency, Jiang He clicked ”Post.”

A progress bar flashed for an instant, and the post appeared on the front page of the Gastroenterology and Hepatobiliary Surgery sections.

After a moment’s thought, Jiang He added a reply below his post:

[I will provide more research ideas and improved surgical techniques later on. All these conclusions will be made public and free to use.]

What Jiang He was doing was, in essence, a form of academic open-sourcing.

This wasn’t an act of charity.

In academia, the big shot who proposes the core idea always holds a higher status than the team doing the grunt work.

Jiang He was playing the long game.

He was going to forge the ID ”Zhiyu” into the founder of a new, contemporary medical theory.

This would not only drive innovation in global medical standards but also serve as a massive breakthrough for his own status and reputation.

Although a forum post couldn’t be cited as a reference in a formal SCI paper, once you reached the level of the top experts, the academic circle was actually very small.

Once a team actually achieved sensational results by following this path, everyone would know that the true originator of this theory was the person on Dingxiang Garden named Zhiyu.

Watching the sporadic clicks begin to appear on his post, Jiang He calmly shut down his computer.

The swelling in his ankle had already subsided considerably thanks to the ice pack.

’Now, it’s time to let the bullets fly for a while.’