Healing

Qin Fang woke up once more, jolted back to consciousness by pain.

It felt as if a red-hot blade were carving into his left shoulder. The intense agony forced his brows to knit together tightly before he slowly pried his eyes open.

At a glance, he saw a gaunt old man of about sixty, standing over him with absolute focus.

His consciousness gradually returned, though his nose was completely blocked, making it difficult to breathe.

As he opened his eyes, the old man paused for a brief moment before speaking in a somewhat cold tone.

"The wound on your left shoulder has rotted; I have to carve out the necrotic flesh for it to heal... You're a tough one, kid. With a wound this severe, it's a miracle you lasted until now before it finally flared up."

Qin Fang didn't speak; he struggled to lift his head to look at his left shoulder.

The old man held a small, curved blade. It was razor-sharp and glinted with a cold light as it dug into the site of his injury.

The area seemed to have been cleaned of grime, but that only made the severity of the wound more apparent... the entire area had rotted, with black pus oozing out across the wound, while the surrounding skin was red, swollen, and taut.

The blade was buried deep, carving away the blackened, putrid flesh.

It's this bad?

Then, he let out a muffled groan...

The other man continued to cut.

The blade felt as if it had been heated; it burned, and he could even feel the slick sensation of the metal slicing through his body.

It made his hair stand on end.

The man wasn't just cutting the wound; he was digging into the surrounding swollen flesh as well—he was ruthless!

As his consciousness sharpened, the pain became even more vivid.

In just a short while, sweat beaded on his forehead, and his entire body began to tremble.

But he gritted his teeth and didn't make a sound.

He didn't dare move, either.

He tried his best to cooperate with the treatment.

Fortunately, the old man was nimble. Soon, a large chunk of necrotic flesh was carved out and dropped into a porcelain dish. It was pitch black, and even the pus was black; it looked disgusting and hair-raising.

It's finally over...

Qin Fang breathed a secret sigh of relief.

But immediately after, a wave of pain far more intense than before hit him. Even Qin Fang couldn't help but groan, sucking in a sharp breath of cold air.

Looking down, he saw the old man forcefully squeezing his wound.

"The toxic pus hasn't been completely cleared; I need to see fresh blood."

The old man's methods were ruthless, yet his expression remained cold.

This was far more painful than the blade carving out the flesh. Even Qin Fang couldn't help but cry out, his whole body shivering and nearly convulsing from the agony.

Finally, fresh blood began to seep from the wound.

The old man wiped the wound with a cloth of unknown material. After drying the blood, he took a jar from the side and used a bamboo strip to scoop out a glob of sticky, black substance, carefully applying it to Qin Fang's wound.

Once the wound was covered, he used another cloth—one that looked like gauze but was made of an unfamiliar material—to bandage it.

Miraculously, once the black ointment covered the wound, the searing pain began to fade, replaced by a cooling sensation that effectively suppressed the agony.

Only then did Qin Fang let out a long breath.

Then, he spoke.

"How long until my wound heals?"

Only then did he realize his voice was incredibly hoarse.

The old man didn't stop his work, replying calmly, "Hard to say. It depends on the person. Some have strong bodies and recover quickly. But you... at least half a year."

Qin Fang's brows furrowed... He was a refugee; his body was indeed weak to the extreme.

After a brief silence, he asked, "What about the person who brought me here?"

The old man's hands paused for a split second before he continued his work, saying calmly, "Waiting outside the door... I am quite curious, though. The people of the Iron Tiger Gang are famous for being cold-blooded and ruthless. How did a refugee like you manage to make them show such kindness to save you? And they seemed quite anxious, too..."

Qin Fang's face twitched at these words, but he didn't answer, instead asking in a low voice, "Iron Tiger Gang?"

"You don't know them?"

Qin Fang shook his head.

The old man raised an eyebrow, revealing a look of surprise.

If this kid didn't even know the Iron Tiger Gang, how did he know Wang Long?

Wang Long was a notorious, hard-hearted rascal in True Martial County. If they didn't know each other, why would Wang Long personally bring him here for treatment?

And in such a hurry?

Even...

At any cost.

It cost a full ten taels of silver.

...Extracting silver from the fingers of scoundrels like Wang Hu was no easy feat.

Seeing that the other party had no intention of answering, the old man did not press the issue. He spoke, "The wound on your waist hasn't been treated yet, but it's lighter than the one on your shoulder. Bear with it."

The waist wound had been caused by a hoe; the surface area was larger, but it wasn't as deep as the shoulder wound, making it relatively less severe.

Qin Fang simply exhaled softly and nodded, saying nothing more.

He wanted to ask about the Iron Tiger Gang... but he didn't know this old man, nor did he know what kind of relationship he had with them, so he dared not speak rashly.

He cooperated by bracing his body to turn onto his side. He could feel the fever continuing, his body aching and devoid of strength.

During the process, he glanced at his feet... they had already been wrapped in bandages, appearing to have been treated.

There was indeed a cool sensation radiating from the soles of his feet... it didn't feel too painful.

The old man held the small knife again, singed it over the fire, and began to cut away the necrotic flesh.

Qin Fang felt that extreme pain once more.

Yet he gritted his teeth, sweat streaming down his forehead, without letting out a sound.

Fortunately, the old man was very deft. A few minutes later, he had dug away more rotten flesh and pressed out the fresh blood.

After applying the same ointment, Qin Fang finally let out a long breath.

He relaxed completely.

Once he relaxed, his head began to swim again... the physical exertion had been too great.

He was already weak, and enduring such an ordeal made it even harder to bear.

"You've got a tough temperament."

The old man had been observing Qin Fang's reactions the entire time and couldn't help but nod slightly.

Just as he was thinking this.

Suddenly, the door was pounded with a loud bang, bang, bang.

"Old Wu, aren't you done yet? Is he awake?"

Someone asked impatiently from outside.

Judging by the voice... it was that guy with the fleshy face.

Qin Fang's heart sank instantly, a gloominess surfacing in his eyes.

The old man frowned slightly, looked at Qin Fang's reaction, and after a moment of silence, said, "It seems... they can get some benefit from you?"

Qin Fang was stunned for a moment, and only after a long silence did he whisper, "I couldn't hold on, there was no other way. Using kindness... is not as effective as using greed."

The old man realized, and nodded.

The urging sounds started again from outside the door, and only then did the old man say coldly toward the entrance, "If you think it's too slow, why don't you do it yourselves?"

The commotion outside quieted down significantly, and then a different voice replied, "Master Wu, don't, please don't be angry. We're just worried... is he awake?"

Old Wu didn't speak, but instead looked at Qin Fang.