Ignoring Mo Sigui, Chu Dingjiang released An Jiu and said, “I’m leaving.”

An Jiu nodded.

At the bottom of the steps, Chu Dingjiang added a worried reminder, “Stay away from Gu Jinghong. You’re not as cunning as he is.”

An Jiu had no intention of approaching Gu Jinghong again, but his deliberate warning made her retort, “I think you’re even more cunning than he is!”

Beneath his wide hood, only Chu Dingjiang’s nose and lips were visible. An Jiu saw his lips curve into a smile before he vanished into the darkness. Gazing into the seemingly endless blackness, she suddenly felt empty inside.

She clutched the warm stone tightly and turned to enter the room.

Inside, dim lamps lit the corners where braziers burned. Steam rose from a bathtub that had been prepared recently.

An Jiu bolted the door, undressed, and entered the tub.

Her cold body stung as it met the hot water. After a moment, a tingling sensation spread throughout her body. An Jiu sighed contentedly, leaning back against the tub and closing her eyes for a brief rest. Perhaps still affected by the alcohol, she unknowingly drifted off to sleep.

Outside, as Mo Sigui prepared to call through Lou Mingyue’s window, he sensed someone behind him.

He turned to see a masked man standing in the courtyard.

“Doctor Mo,” the masked man’s voice was clear.

Mo Sigui grew wary.

“I owe Xuanren a favor and would like the doctor’s help in repaying it,” the masked man said, tossing over a token.

Mo Sigui didn’t catch it, letting it clatter onto the stone floor of the corridor.

Seeing it wasn’t a hidden weapon, Mo Sigui bent to pick it up, noticing a nearly invisible thread attached to its end.

The masked man extended his hand.

Mo Sigui realized the thread’s other end was tied to the man’s wrist.

This was a request for pulse diagnosis through the thread.

“The doctor will surely find this interesting,” the masked man said.

With no wind, it was suitable for thread pulse diagnosis. Mo Sigui pressed four fingers to the thread, carefully sensing the faint pulsations from the other end.

After a moment, he looked up in surprise. “What do you want me to do?”

The man approached, his unnaturally pale fingers holding out a piece of paper.

Mo Sigui took it, his surprise deepening as he read. After a moment of silence, he said, “Follow me.”

The masked man followed him inside.

Mo Sigui arranged numerous paper talismans on the ground. “Within this formation, no one can hear our conversation.”

“I didn’t know the doctor was versed in formations,” the masked man remarked.

“Just a trivial skill I traded medicine for,” Mo Sigui gestured. “Please, sit.”

“I am Gu Jinghong, Deputy Commander of the Shence Army,” he bowed slightly.

“So you’re Gu Jinghong!” Mo Sigui examined him closely. On the return journey from Yangzhou, he knew Gu Jinghong had led the mission, but while most sought his medical advice, Gu never did. They had rarely even met. As Mo Sigui disliked initiating relationships, the two weren’t well acquainted.

“This is my first time seeing a medicine man,” Mo Sigui marveled.

A “medicine man” was similar to Mo Sigui’s tiger cub – a living being raised from childhood with drugs for a specific purpose.

Mo Sigui raised his tiger for tracking, but a medicine man was an ingredient in a medicinal formula. Legend said a medicine man’s heart blood could truly revive the dead and regrow flesh on bare bones.

“May I examine you closely?” Where most would feel sympathy upon learning this, Mo Sigui felt only curiosity and excitement about the medicine.

Gu Jinghong nodded, removing his mask and face cloth, allowing the examination.

Mo Sigui placed two fingers on his neck, sending tendrils of energy to thoroughly inspect Gu’s organs and blood vessels.

“Tsk, tsk.” Mo Sigui reluctantly withdrew his hand, eyes shining as he looked at Gu Jinghong. “Truly exceptional.”

Gu Jinghong was numb to such praise. Without joy or sorrow, he said, “What I ask, only you can do.”

Only he could do it. Only that one thing…

Mo Sigui’s expression grew serious. He sat opposite Gu Jinghong. “You were born with unusual blood. Legend says your seven apertures can communicate with spirits. At such a young age, you’ve achieved this level of skill. In ten or twenty years, perhaps no one in the world could match you. Are you certain you want to…”

“Yes. Give it to Xuanren as thanks for her farewell last night,” Gu Jinghong paused. “No one knows I came here. Doctor, you must keep this secret, or the gift will bring disaster instead of gratitude.”

Raising a medicine man required immense resources. Whoever lost such a hard-won treasure wouldn’t easily let it go.

But Mo Sigui’s thoughts were elsewhere. He slapped his thigh in distress. “Why didn’t you tell me you were leaving? If I’d known, I’d have dropped everything to bid you farewell! You treat me like an outsider!”

“Does this mean the doctor agrees?” Gu Jinghong smiled slightly.

Of course, Mo Sigui would agree. Raising even an ordinary medicine man took at least ten years and daily consumption of rare, expensive medicines. They were already rare, let alone one of Gu Jinghong’s caliber. Mo Sigui felt he must have saved the world in a past life to get this opportunity.

“Are you sure? No regrets?” Mo Sigui asked again.

Having examined Gu Jinghong’s body, he felt some regret. Here was a person with an exceptional physique and clear spiritual apertures, the kind most suited to mastering arts like mind-reading, mind-confusing, and mind-illusion techniques. Such talent might not appear again in a thousand years. To waste it like this was truly a shame! He wondered who had been so extravagant as to use such a rare talent to raise a medicine man.

Gu Jinghong closed his eyes to hide his emotions. “Ten years is too long. I can’t wait.”

“I can do what you ask,” Mo Sigui fingered his ice dragon brain fan, feeling its coolness to calm his excited yet complex emotions. “But you should know, medicine men are different from ordinary people. After the first extraction of heart blood, you’ll have only one month to live. Moreover, while that blood can revive anyone else from death, it will be useless for you.”

“I understand,” Gu Jinghong said calmly.

Mo Sigui pondered briefly. “I could extract half your heart blood and use additional medicines. Perhaps that might save your life. After all, it’s just a farewell gift. Why sacrifice your life?”

This was the best compromise he could think of, though he’d never done it before and wasn’t entirely confident he could save Gu Jinghong’s life.

“What are the doctor’s chances of success?” Gu Jinghong’s current course was merely a desperate form of revenge. If a path to survival appeared before him, why would he seek death?

He had always thought himself cold and cruel, but after his conversation with An Jiu yesterday, he suddenly realized how cowardly he truly was.

“Thirty percent,” Mo Sigui answered after careful consideration.