“Alas, the second prince was too kind,” Zhang Yuanqing said bitterly. “He would have nothing but the best for me and insisted that any other doctors would botch my condition.”
Yue Bing frowned. “I understand your meaning. Court politics caused your treatment to be delayed, leaving you in this state where you lost your strength. Since you had lost your ability to fight, no one defended you.” She sighed. “I can’t make any bold promises, but I’ll give it a shot. A good man like you deserves better.”
“I dare not hope for recovery anymore, Dr. Yue,” Zhang Yuanqing said, smiling wistfully. “What’s done is done, and your success or failure is of little consequence.”
“You’re lucky,” Yue Bing muttered as she traced the arm. “If it were anyone else, they would have a hard time treating you. Your body is far stronger than a qi cultivator’s. Every inch of your flesh is filled with an abundant capacity for vitality. Vitality any spirit doctor would need to supplement for your treatment.”
“I cultivated my body on the advice of a friend,” Zhang Yuanqing said. “By the time I realized it wasn’t possible for me to progress past initial bone forging, my strengthened body had already hampered my ability to recover. I only learned about this when Grandmaster Gu first treated me. Whether this friend’s advice was well-intentioned or another part of a sinister plot, I’ll never know.”
“If I’m the one healing, the stronger your body, the better,” Yue Bing said. “Vitality supplementation is no issue for me, and using your body to guide the process will make things easier. But you need to be willing to bear great pain, General Zhang.”
“Any amount of pain is fine,” Zhang Yuanqing replied. “But I’m a general no longer. I’m not worthy of bearing that title.”
“I’ll treat a finger first,” Yue Bing said. “If you want to continue after that, and if I judge you are capable of proceeding with the treatment, we’ll go from there. Please lie down somewhere flat and comfortable.”
The man did as instructed and walked over to a backless bench in a corner of the room. Yue Bing touched the man’s finger and sent blades of metallic qi running through it, cutting apart bunched-up scar tissue like she was dicing vegetables. Fortunately for him, his nerves were nonexistent, and the process was painless. Grandmaster Gu, curious about the process, gathered the falling blood in a storage vial.
Yue Bing worked on the finger for twenty breaths, destroying any tissue formed by the body’s instinctive regeneration. Then, she stagnated his flow of blood using water qi. After isolating the area, she poured a thread of red vitality from her body into the ravaged appendage. His body resonated with the fresh infusion, and every cell in his finger screamed with joy. His flesh squirmed, but instead of re-forming scar tissue as it did in the past, it seemed to gain some intelligence. The cells in his body unearthed long-lost memories of what once was, and his nerves rapidly regrew and stitched together as though nothing had happened to them in the first place.
He felt pain once more. Dreadful pain. Every new strand of nerves created felt like a thousand cuts of a rusty blade. Moreover, this pain only grew more intense as the qi pathways and meridians that had disappeared long ago regrew. Not only had they returned, but the former strength and flexibility from when he’d been at his peak came back with them. Qi soaked back into the spongelike flesh for the first time in decades, a process even more painful than regrowing his nervous system.
Then, his finger twitched. Though it was only a simple movement, it was the most movement he’d seen from his limp arm in decades. Zhang Yuanqing laughed heartily, and his eyes welled up with tears. Though hair and robes were soaked with sweat, and his face pale and gaunt from the draining healing process, he seemed happy as a mother who’d just given birth to her first child.
“You shouldn’t get too excited,” Yue Bing cautioned. “Your finger was the smallest, most insignificant part of your problem. To heal you, I’m going to have to scrape and destroy every piece of your arm and right chest and force it to grow back properly. The pain will be unbearable, and by the time I’m done, you might wish you were dead.”
The laughter stopped, but the smile remained. “You think this is pain?” Zhang Yuanqing said, his eyes bloodshot. “This barely registers as pain. No, my dear doctor, pain is when you’ve lost your first thousand men on the battlefield to an incompetent decision. Pain is when you’ve sacrificed ten thousand for the sake of a pyrrhic victory. This pain is in my body, doctor, so it’s manageable. But compared to the worst pain I’ve felt, this is nothing more than a light tickle.”
“I take it you want to continue with your treatment?” Yue Bing asked.
“Without a doubt, doctor, without a doubt,” Zhang Yuanqing replied. His eyes were filled with determination unlike any she’d ever seen.
Having healed the first finger, Yue Bing repeated the process for all five fingers on his hand, followed by the palm of his hand. By then, exhaustion had begun to mount in her body. Though her constitution seemed like an endless font of vitality, there was only so much she could draw out before affecting her core.
Just as she was about to take a rest, Grandmaster Gu flicked his sleeve and sent a pill her way. To her surprise, it was an extremely potent vitality-supplement pill. This type of pill was typically used by body refiners mid-battle.
“I borrowed some pills from our association’s reserves on our way out,” Grandmaster Gu said. “I thought they’d come in handy.”
Yue Bing didn’t have the energy to thank him. She popped a pill in her mouth and guided the potent life force into her parched body. An incense time later, she proceeded to heal the man’s forearm.
Unlike the hand that came before, the forearm took less energy to heal. It wasn’t because the arm was less complex, but rather, there was much less destroyed tissue there to begin with. The root of the injury was ultimately in the man’s hand and wrist. The remaining damage was a result of the stray energy that had traveled up his blood vessels and back to his heart. Yue Bing kept any intact flesh she found and threw out the rest. Her qi was a surgical scalpel that filled the room with blood and gore. Fortunately, Grandmaster Gu was an excellent surgical assistant; otherwise, the furniture would have had to be replaced.
After the forearm came the elbow, the upper arm, and then the shoulder. These parts were rather easily healed and only required a minimal effort on her part. As she approached the rib cage, however, everything became complex bundles of nerves and blood vessels. She slowed down significantly as she struggled to avoid his internal organs. Finally, all that remained was an obstruction just above his dantian.
She carefully shaved away at the blockage in his dantian, chipping away ever so slightly to avoid shocking his system with qi. After an hour of careful clipping and dusting, she finally opened a pinhole. A tiny trickle of qi flowed into the man’s arm, which twitched violently. Once it stopped twitching, she opened the hole even wider. It wasn’t long before Zhang Yuanqing’s qi was flowing freely as though he’d never been hurt in the first place. As the gap regenerated, a seal regulating qi flow naturally appeared where it once was.
Finally, Yue Bing withdrew her incandescent force and qi, and Zhang Yuanqing’s qi surged. His aura, which had previously been suppressed to avoid crippling his cultivation base, was suddenly unleashed. What little cultivation he dared display before mounted from the middle grades of qi condensation up to foundation establishment.
But it didn’t stop there—it proceeded straight to the peak of foundation establishment, stopping just shy of an invisible barrier. Fierce pride and hope burned in the old general’s eyes. His gaze swept over to his spear, which he summoned with his incandescent force and grasped with his right arm. The feeble man practicing calligraphy in the room had now become a fierce general once more, a force to be reckoned with.
“Many thanks, Dr. Yue,” Zhang Yuanqing said, bowing deeply. “You’ve given me my life back. If you require any assistance, I’ll climb through hell or high water for you.”
Then she looked to Grandmaster Gu. Have you determined exactly whose heritage I possess?
There’s no mistaking it, Grandmaster Gu said. Your heritage is undoubtedly that of the Undying Doctor, Hua Tuo.
Chapter 31
A soft orange flame flickered in Zi Long’s chamber as he opened his eyes. He looked around the ornate immortal cave, carefully inspecting it as he always did. Although it had only been a day since their curt discussion, he couldn’t help but expect them to try something underhanded. Doubt might be the root of all evil, but a healthy dose of it could go a long way.
The grand elder is most suspicious, he thought. Unfortunately, in a sect like the Violet Heart Sect, that makes him an unwilling accomplice in my eyes. These people are no strangers to subterfuge, and none of them would be foolish enough to be so blatant with their actions.
Who could it be, then? Could it be the second elder? Could he be motivated by the chance of obtaining a longer lifespan by using the ample violet heart force to achieve a breakthrough? Or is it one of their supporters, hoping to reap safe benefits after the successful transition? Then again, I can’t discount the possibility of a silent fisherman hoping to profit from infighting.
This was speculation on his part. He could only wait until he obtained more information to come to a conclusion. Information he couldn’t obtain unless someone came to visit. Therefore, he closed his eyes and continued cultivating the Six Desires Fate-Converging Art.
The illusory art had advanced by leaps and bounds under the assistance of the inherited heart force. Several key questions about illusion and reality had faded, and only one last push remained between him and initial mastery of it.
Zi Long opened his eyes and gazed around the room. Like before, everything remained pristine and untouched. The violet flame he’d lit still burned strong.
No, I didn’t light a violet flame, he thought. He cast his heart force out and inspected the flame. It seemed completely normal to him, inconspicuous, and even the memory of him lighting it came to mind. What was the original color again? Was it orange? Or perhaps red? That’s not right. He shook his head. Regardless of the color, I shouldn’t be confused about it. Something’s wrong.
Zi Long stood up. As he walked, his surroundings transformed. He was no longer in his cultivation cave but a chamber filled with violet fabric and a luxurious bed. The tables were filled with the richest spirit foods, medicinal pills, and treasures beyond his imagination. Instinctively, he reached out toward them. However, he stopped halfway through the motion.
Were these here before? He thought. If so, where did I get them?
Memories of servants bringing them surfaced, but he couldn’t help but wonder about their validity. An unsigned contract came to mind, one he felt an urgent need to sign. Their origins brought into question, the food and treasures vanished, only to be replaced by tens of technique scrolls. They were his technique scrolls, of course. Or they would be, if he paid for them with the violet key.
So that’s their game, he thought, chuckling inwardly. They can’t take it from me, so they want to trick me into giving it up with an illusory formation.
Having seen through their tricks, Zi Long cast out his incandescent force and heart force simultaneously. A giant runic array appeared before him. After examining it for several tense breaths, he determined its flaws.
I can unravel this anytime I want to, he thought. But why should I? Such extensive illusory formations are expensive and difficult to maintain. Further, his encounter in the illusion had been enlightening. He’d met true desires, desires that stemmed from deep within his heart. Usually, he kept these suppressed, but here in the illusion, they weaseled their way out at his opponent’s coaxing.
Zi Long quickly made up his mind. He banished his heart force and his incandescent force, allowing the room to revert to its original condition. The violet flame flickered, and before he knew it, his apprentice brothers and sisters appeared. There was a burly man with a giant blade, a slender woman with a mystical ankh, and finally, a young man who, despite being humble and well-mannered, was becoming increasingly aware of the ways of the world. It was only a matter of time until he broke through his cocoon. When he did, this young genius’s potential would explode and overshadow Zi Long and his brother and sister.
“Brother Zi, you’ve finally become the Violet Heart Sect master,” Ling Dong said. “I can’t compete with you now. Why don’t we call you eldest from now on, and I’ll become the second brother?”
“Ling Dong is right,” Yue Bing said. “You’ve become much more powerful than us. We’ll have to rely on you in the future. Please remember to take good care of us.”
“Eldest Brother, can you teach me formation arts?” Jin Huang asked with glittering eyes. “I hear even Senior Partner Lu praises your formations, and Master is too busy to teach me.”
“You overpraise me,” Zi Long said humbly. However, deep inside, he yearned to accept their praise. As the least appreciated and most intelligent of the brothers and sisters, he’d long since resented the little respect he’d received.
“Nonsense,” Ling Dong said. “It’s settled. You’re the senior brother now. We’ll let Master know so that he can formally acknowledge your position. I’m sure he’ll spare no effort in teaching a genius like you from now on.”
“Then you have my thanks,” Zi Long said. “I—”
He stopped mid-sentence. The scene faded, and his brothers and sisters disappeared with it. He broke out in a cold sweat and realized that, for a few breaths, he’d been totally drawn into the realistic fantasy.
But the bottleneck is wearing away, he thought. If I can stay here for a few days, there’s no telling how much progress I’ll make. And with enough progress in the Six Desires Fate-Converging Art, extracting the information he needed from the elders would be a walk in the park.
After taking some time to recover, he entered the illusion once more. This time, he saw a familiar figure on the bed. Barely clothed, the pale young lady’s eyes were closed.
“Brother Zi, I had a nightmare,” she said. “Why don’t you come here and hug me to sleep?”
His heart pounded as he stepped toward the bed. He reached out with his hand and stroked her slender arm, causing Luo Xuehua to shiver. Her reaction pulled him even deeper into the illusion, which he banished on instinct.
Cultivating illusory arts was like walking on a tightrope. A single misstep could cost you everything.
Chapter 32
Grandmaster Gu leafed through a few dusty tomes in a secluded section of the restricted library. Only Yue Bing had been allowed inside; no exceptions were made for Luo Xuehua, who had to wait outside until they were finished.
“You’ll have to forgive me for excluding your friend,” he said. “The contents of this library are very… sensitive. The Church of Justice wouldn’t take too kindly to many of these tomes.”
“Is there anything inherently evil about them?” Yue Bing asked curiously.
“No, just sensitive bits of history they once tried to erase,” Grandmaster Gu said. “Poison masters, for example, were often doctors. Most of them used their arts for good, but a few unsavory individuals came from their ranks and tainted their reputation. As a result, they were purged from the continent. We had to hack away at their organization like a diseased limb, sacrificing the few for the sake of the many.”
“I thought the Church of Justice was full of righteous individuals uncomfortable with twisting the truth,” Yue Bing said.
“This generation is,” Grandmaster Gu admitted. “But what about the next one, and the one after? That single crusade plunged many sub-professions into obscurity. Ironically, it benefitted the forces of darkness greatly, as only the south can practice those professions now. Ah, here it is.” He took out a bloodred tome showing only two characters: Hua Tuo.
“I�
�ve seen that book before,” Yue Bing said. “It’s on the main shelf in any branch association.”
“You’ve seen the abridged version,” Grandmaster Gu replied. “The beginning is the same, but the ending is very different. To compare, the one you’ve seen is like an idealized fairy tale, while the true story is much darker and fraught with peril.”
“You mean he didn’t die from his wounds when he was assassinated?” Yue Bing asked. “What happened?”
“Hua Tuo was known as a selfless miracle doctor, someone admired by all,” Grandmaster Gu said. “Unfortunately, that also meant there were many attempts on his life. Killing a man by killing his doctor is a known stratagem in war. This began to wear down on Hua Tuo’s health, and eventually, he was grievously wounded. Officially, that’s what killed him.”
He flipped pages as he read, showing a young scholar growing older and older. There were many depictions of famous personages he saved, and finally a picture of his supposed deathbed.
“Most people thought he was about to die,” Grandmaster Gu continued. “On his deathbed, he confessed that he bore great resentment for those who had tried to kill him over the years. He had done his best to help others, but they’d tried to kill him time and time again. This inspired his previously famous poem that was lost in obscurity. ‘My heart bleeds with kindness; Who knows the suffering I bear?’”
“‘I’ll burn my life’s flame no more,’” Yue Bing muttered. “‘And pay a price of blood instead.’” After she spoke these words, Grandmaster Gu smiled and turned over the page. These four lines were shown on an ankh, an ankh surrounded by two snakes. The ankh was bloodred, and so were the snakes. They were supported by bloodred angelic wings.
“Your ankh and your unique body cultivation were dead giveaways,” Grandmaster Gu said. “Now that you’ve spoken words that only a handful of people on the continent are aware of, I’m sure of it. You’ve inherited Hua Tuo’s legacy. It’s a legacy of blood and battle, but also a legacy of faith and healing.
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