Su Yuntao, You've Calculated Everything?

Doctor Li's jaw nearly hit the floor.

The surrounding villagers widened their eyes, convinced they had misheard.

Who was Su Yuntao?

A deacon of Spirit Hall! A level twenty-six Great Battle Spirit Master!

A figure of note in the entire Notting City!

And he was calling a six-year-old child—

"Sir"?!

The courtyard fell into a deathly silence.

Doctor Li's mouth hung open wide enough to fit an egg.

The villagers looked at one another, doubting their own ears.

Su Yuntao remained in a bow, his waist bent low, his attitude as respectful as if he were greeting a great dignitary.

And that "great dignitary."

One meter twenty tall, fair and clean, six years old.

Su Mo himself was a bit bewildered.

He knew Su Yuntao had read Romance of the Three Kingdoms last night, knew he had received the "Demonic Wisdom" inheritance, and knew he had sent over thirty silver soul coins this morning.

But he hadn't expected Su Yuntao to pay him such a grand tribute in public.

"Ahem." Su Mo cleared his throat. "That... Deacon Su, please, rise."

Su Yuntao straightened up, his gaze burning as he looked at Su Mo. "Sir, you must already know the reason for this student's visit."

I have no idea, Su Mo thought.

But Su Yuntao didn't wait for an answer; he stepped aside to reveal the person following him—

An elderly man with white hair and beard, carrying a medicine chest, dressed in refined robes, and possessing an extraordinary air.

Upon seeing the man, Doctor Li gasped. "Zhang, Elder Zhang?!"

The villagers didn't recognize him, but Doctor Li did.

Zhang Qianyi, the premier miracle doctor of Notting City. It was said that in his youth, he had traveled the continent and mastered profound medical arts; countless high-ranking officials and nobles had to queue and make appointments just to see him.

Doctor Li had tried to apprentice under him years ago, but hadn't even been able to get through the door.

Now, this miracle doctor stood in Su Mo's courtyard.

Waiting respectfully.

Zhang Qianyi stepped forward and nodded slightly to Su Mo. "Little Sir, I am Zhang Qianyi. At the request of Deacon Su, I have come to treat your mother."

Su Mo snapped out of his daze and quickly stepped aside. "Please, Miracle Doctor Zhang."

Zhang Qianyi nodded, walked into the house, sat by Su Zhaowan's bedside, and began to check her pulse.

Su Yuntao did not follow him in, but stood beside Su Mo and whispered, "Rest assured, Sir. Elder Zhang is the best physician in Notting City. With him on the case, your mother's condition will certainly stabilize."

Su Mo glanced at him.

Su Yuntao's eyes were calm and resolute, as if everything were under his control.

This composure made him seem like a completely different person from the Su Yuntao who had been staring blankly at a crystal ball yesterday.

The Zhuge inheritance is truly formidable, Su Mo thought.

Inside the house, Zhang Qianyi finished checking the pulse, asked Su Zhaowan a few questions, and then walked out.

Su Mo hurried to meet him. "Miracle Doctor Zhang, how is my mother?"

Zhang Qianyi stroked his beard. "Little Sir need not worry too much. Your mother's illness stems from excessive blood loss during childbirth, leading to a deficiency in both energy and blood. Combined with years of overwork, her foundation has been damaged. This flare-up is the result of long-term exhaustion."

Su Mo's heart tightened.

Zhang Qianyi continued, "I will write a prescription to stabilize her condition first. From now on, she must rest and avoid all labor. If she takes her medicine on time and follows up with acupuncture treatments, she should be fine for the next three to five years."

Su Mo pressed, "Can she be cured? Completely cured?"

Zhang Qianyi fell silent for a moment, then shook his head. "A complete cure... I cannot do it. Your mother's leg injury damaged her meridians, and because it was neglected for so long, it is beyond saving. As for her overall health, to return to her original state would require the intervention of the continent's top medical saint."

Su Mo's heart sank.

The continent's top medical saint.

A name immediately popped into his head—

Dugu Bo.

The Poison Douluo, a Title Douluo, a master of both poison and medicine.

If he could convince him to act...

But then, Su Mo gave a bitter smile.

Who was Dugu Bo? A Title Douluo, a hegemon of his own territory, temperamental and ruthless.

As a six-year-old child, what right did he have to ask for someone's help?

Money? Status? Strength?

He had none of these.

Seeing Su Mo fall silent, Zhang Qianyi assumed he was upset and said gently, "Little Sir, there is no need to worry too much. As long as your mother is well-cared for, living another few decades will be no problem. As for a complete cure... perhaps there will be an opportunity in the future, who knows."

Su Mo took a deep breath and nodded, "Thank you, Divine Doctor Zhang."

Su Yuntao spoke up from the side, "Old Zhang, please write the prescription; I will prepare the medicine."

Zhang Qianyi nodded and went to the side to write out the prescription.

Su Yuntao turned around, took several large and small packages from his attendant, and placed them on the table.

"Sir, these are some tonics I have prepared—ginseng, lingzhi, astragalus, and angelica. They are all mild, nourishing herbs. Since your mother is weak, they will be just right for her."

The surrounding villagers let out another gasp of amazement.

Ginseng and lingzhi? Those were valuable items!

That pile must be worth at least a dozen gold soul coins, right?

Su Mo looked at the pile of items, then back at Su Yuntao.

This man was truly here to repay a debt of gratitude.

He was repaying a "favor of gifting a book" that he had entirely imagined himself.

Su Mo opened his mouth, wanting to say, "Actually, I dropped the book; I didn't give it to you on purpose," but he swallowed the words back.

Forget it.

It was impossible to explain.

Besides, the man had indeed been a great help.

At this moment, Tang San, who had been following behind Su Mo, suddenly spoke up, "Teacher, are you planning to go to Notting Academy?"

Su Mo was stunned.

Tang San continued, "Disciple remembers that Deacon Su wanted to give you the work-study student quota for Notting Academy yesterday, but you refused. But now... your mother needs a better doctor and more money; staying in the village certainly won't work. Only by going to Notting City will there be opportunities."

Su Mo fell silent.

Tang San was right.

Although Notting City was small, it offered far more opportunities than the village. Renting out books to make money, building connections, and accumulating strength were all things he could not do in this remote backwater.

However—

"The quota has already been given to you." Su Mo looked at Tang San. "Should I go and take it from you?"

Tang San grew anxious. "Disciple doesn't want it! Disciple can stay in the village; Teacher, you should go!"

Su Mo shook his head. "The name has already been submitted, hasn't it? It can't be changed."

Tang San's face fell.

That was true; the Spirit Hall's quota was set once the name was submitted. It could not be changed.

He paced around anxiously. "Then, then what should we do? Teacher, you must go!"

Just then, a voice came from the side.

"If you wish to go, Sir, this student does have a way."

Su Yuntao pulled a booklet from his robes and handed it to Su Mo with both hands.

On the cover, a few words were written neatly—

Notting Junior Spirit Master Academy: Work-Study Student Certificate

Name: ______

Su Mo was stunned.

Su Yuntao smiled slightly. "When I was reading the book last night, I thought you might find this useful, Sir. So, I went to Spirit Hall this morning and processed an extra one."

Su Mo looked up at him.

Su Yuntao's gaze was calm, but beneath that calmness lay a certainty that "everything was within expectations."

Su Mo suddenly remembered the thirty silver soul coins, the arrival of the Divine Doctor Zhang today, and this pile of tonics.

Could this man have calculated everything that would happen today while reading the book last night?

Su Mo dared not think further, feeling it must be his own overactive imagination.

Otherwise, that would be simply too heaven-defying!