“As long as I am here, you will not go blind!”

What an arrogant and domineering declaration. So many imperial physicians had shaken their heads and walked away, and even those who knew what could be done did not dare to make such a promise — that as long as he was present, the patient would not go blind.

Everyone knew how precious one’s eyes were. Physicians, more often than not, were bound by all manner of reservations. Even Chief Imperial Physician Ou, who had once treated cases of glaucoma-blindness, did not dare to say with certainty that a cure was possible — let alone the others, who were even less confident.

Even common physicians and so-called renowned healers would always leave themselves room to retreat, never speaking their words in full.

Yet Lang Jiuchuan, young as she was, dared to say this.

Zeng Jichuan had been born into privilege from childhood. He too was the son of a wealthy family, and he had once possessed the arrogance and hot-blooded boldness of youth. Hearing these words, he could not help but think inwardly: What bold words — on what grounds?

But, to his own embarrassment, that very declaration stirred something within him. His heart began to thump loudly, and he felt a rush of excitement.

It was utterly unreliable — yet what if it were true?

Zeng Jichuan was still very willing to believe that there existed rare geniuses in this world, ones he had simply never encountered before — much like this slight young girl before him.

Of course, Zeng Jichuan’s eyes had already grown dim, so he could not see Lang Jiuchuan clearly. Had he been able to make out her appearance, he might well have found her even more unconvincing.

She looked so frail and feeble — truly difficult to believe she was any kind of divine healer.

After his initial excitement faded, Zeng Jichuan gradually calmed himself and said: “Old Shen mentioned you have some knowledge of mystical arts. Are you planning to treat my eyes through the methods of the Daoist school?”

“How could that be?” Lang Jiuchuan replied. “Even if Daoist arts could allow you to see, my lord, I could not do it that way for you. Using mystical arts to restore sight means I would be casting a technique on you — allowing you to temporarily perceive the world without relying on your physical eyes. But that also depends greatly on the practitioner’s cultivation and spiritual power. No matter how much affinity exists between us, it is impossible for me to indefinitely deplete my cultivation and spiritual power for your sake, my lord. Even if you were to give me your entire fortune, it still would not be worth it. Cultivation is not easy — accumulating spiritual power is even harder!”

Zeng Jichuan’s mouth twitched. Her words were spoken with complete self-assurance and were easy enough to understand — three words summarized it: You are not worthy.

He rubbed his nose in mild awkwardness and said, “Can Daoist arts truly allow someone to see? With such bold words, does your lord know that you speak this way…”

But as he spoke, his pupils suddenly contracted. Though everything was blurry, he could distinctly sense that fingers were reaching toward the space between his eyebrows. A wave of dizziness swept over him, and by reflex he shut his eyes and leaned backward.

He felt a sensation between his brows — something like a tingling itch. He reached up to touch it. It was slightly warm, and yet there was nothing there. His eyes snapped open.

Before him stood a slender young girl. Her complexion was rather pale, giving her a fragile appearance. She wore a lake-blue spring robe, belted at the waist with a sash so slender it looked as though a single motion might snap it. Her hands were long and fine-boned; around her thin wrist hung a string of crystal-clear flowing-bead bracelet, its pearlescent light carrying a faint golden shimmer — remarkably eye-catching.

But what caught his eye most were her eyes themselves. Large and black, shaped like the wings of a phoenix, they shone with a brilliance that was startling. In all his years, he had never seen a pair of eyes so full of spirit.

“This — this…” Zeng Jichuan blinked in a daze.

Shen Qinghe noticed something was amiss. Seeing his old friend staring fixedly at Lang Jiuchuan, he reached out and waved his hand in front of Zeng Jichuan’s face. Zeng Jichuan batted his hand away.

“Old Zeng, can you see?”

Zeng Jichuan swallowed and forced himself to appear composed. “Yes — what is happening? How can my eyes suddenly see?”

Was this truly the marvel of the Daoist school — no medicine, no procedure on the eyes themselves, and yet sight was restored?

Zeng Jichuan was overcome with joy, trembling from head to toe with excitement.

“I merely used the Eye-Opening Technique to temporarily unseal your Heavenly Eye for you — what you might call the Yin-Yang Eye. Everything you can now see is brought to you through that eye,” Lang Jiuchuan explained. “The Yin-Yang Eye has a time limit and will not remain open indefinitely. If it did, you would find it most distressing.”

“What distress — I can overcome anything,” Zeng Jichuan said at once.

“What is the Yin-Yang Eye?” Lang Jiuchuan replied. “It is an eye that perceives both the living world and the world of the dead. In other words — both the living and the deceased.”

Zeng Jichuan stiffened. He said, somewhat sheepishly, “The dead — well, that is what it is. Are the dead more frightening than the living?”

“If your yang fire is strong and you hold high office, frequently moving through the imperial palace, you are shielded by the emperor’s aura and righteous energy, which would indeed cause spirits to fear you more than you fear them. But there are spirits without fear of death. If they realize you can see them, they will cling to you ceaselessly, murmuring in your ears without stop. You will be driven to exhaustion, unable to sleep at night — all of which is harmful to your health.”

Before Lang Jiuchuan had even finished, she delivered another blow: “Furthermore, keeping this Yin-Yang Eye open is still a technique that must be sustained — as I said before, continuously keeping the eye open for you means I must expend spiritual power. Surely you understand that.”

The smile vanished from Zeng Jichuan’s face, as if a bucket of ice water had been poured over his head.

He looked toward Lang Jiuchuan. Her body appeared no stronger than before. Having her continuously drain her spiritual power was clearly out of the question.

“Then why did you open this eye for me?”

“You did not believe me, did you?” Lang Jiuchuan said, looking perfectly innocent. “So I did not feel like wasting words on you. It was far simpler to let you open your eyes and witness it for yourself — seeing is worth more than a thousand others telling you, is it not?”

Zeng Jichuan had weathered the tempests of the official world for half a lifetime. This was the first time he had been left utterly speechless — and by a young girl, no less.

Opening your eyes — and she used it like this?

Well — he had certainly broadened his horizons.

Shen Qinghe watched his old friend being thoroughly outmaneuvered and pressed his lips together to hide a smile. “Little Nine,” he said, “since you are not using mystical arts, then how will you treat him?”

“The Golden Needle Cataract Removal Technique, of course.” Lang Jiuchuan answered without a moment’s thought. “Is that not what is used for glaucoma-blindness? It is such a simple matter — remove it with golden needles. Why waste spiritual power on something so costly? Accumulating spiritual power is not easy — no amount of silver is worth trading for it.”

Now it was Shen Qinghe’s turn to be left speechless. He exchanged a glance with Zeng Jichuan before saying, “We are of course aware of this technique. We had originally intended to ask Chief Imperial Physician Ou of the Imperial Medical Academy to perform it. But he is getting on in years, and his hands are no longer as steady as they once were — he does not dare to attempt it himself. The Ou family has practiced medicine for generations, and there is a grandson carrying on the legacy, which is fortunate — but even he does not feel certain enough.”

Zeng Jichuan nodded. “That is so. I have consulted a great number of physicians. Some are willing to attempt the procedure, but none dare to guarantee success — and so I have been unable to make up my mind.”

Lang Jiuchuan understood this well. This was the way of physicians — even with ten parts of confidence, they would withhold one part in their words, never speaking them in full, so as not to ruin their reputation or leave themselves without a way out.

She herself ought to have done the same. But her nature was not like that.

“I only make promises for what I know I can do. For what I cannot do, I say so plainly. As for your eyes, my lord — I understand the physicians’ reservations. It is indeed a gamble. In truth, if you agree to let me perform this technique, it is also a gamble on your part. The difference is that I am not afraid of failure the way they are — of drawing retribution upon myself.”

“Oh?”

“One should not take on work one cannot handle. Since I am taking this on, I have naturally already considered the consequences of failure.” The rebellious streak in Lang Jiuchuan stirred, and she smiled. “If I proceed and fail, and you and the Zeng Family seek retribution — that would be repaying kindness with enmity and making an enemy of me. And toward my enemies, I am not in the habit of showing mercy. You would do well to think carefully, my lord.”