Miyamoto

"Damn it! You can't even catch one person!"

"Then what am I keeping you useless lot for?!"

Before he even entered the hall, Yizhe heard a middle-aged man berating someone from inside.

Crash—

Though he could not see what had happened inside, Yizhe could tell that it was the sound of porcelain shattering on the floor.

"Get out! All you worthless trash, get out!"

Then, Yizhe saw several samurai retreat from the hall in a sorry state.

"Miss, please wait!" Yizhe called softly.

"Hmm? What is it?" The young girl turned around with a smile.

It seemed she rather liked being called "miss."

"Excuse me, but what did those samurai do wrong to make the person inside so furious?" Yizhe asked quietly.

Judging from the situation, the person inside was clearly in a terrible mood.

Though he did not know who was throwing the tantrum, anyone who could rage so freely in Doctor Miyamoto's home must have been close to Doctor Miyamoto.

He had come here to ask for help. If he rashly barged in at an inappropriate moment, soured someone's mood, and affected his chances of getting treatment, that would be a disaster.

"Oh—you mean those useless fools?" The girl glanced at the samurai passing by the corner of the wall and continued, "Mr. Miyamoto told them to capture someone, but they were incompetent and failed again and again!"

"So of course Mr. Miyamoto is angry!"

"So that was it!" Yizhe suddenly understood.

The person flying into a rage inside was none other than Miyamoto, the famous doctor he had come looking for.

From what he had learned, Miyamoto was not originally from the Land of Iron. He had only moved here within the past two years, and he had no notable medical achievements to speak of.

Yet after he moved here, word had spread throughout the city overnight that he was a reclusive miracle doctor.

Although he called himself a "recluse," what puzzled Yizhe was that any ordinary person in the city seemed to have heard Miyamoto's name and knew that his fees were exceptionally high.

But if one asked what famous treatments Miyamoto had ever performed, no one could answer.

Miyamoto gave Yizhe the same feeling as those quack doctors who scammed people on the streets in his previous life!

But Yizhe had no other choice. Even though he felt Miyamoto was unreliable, he still wanted to meet him.

Like a drowning man clutching at a straw for dear life, he refused to let go no matter what.

"You'd better watch what you say. Mr. Miyamoto is in a very bad mood today!" The girl glanced around and whispered her warning.

"I'll remember that, miss!" Yizhe answered seriously.

Though he kept calling her "miss" on the surface, the arm beneath his sleeve was covered in goosebumps. It felt unbearably awkward.

A true man can bend and stretch! He kept encouraging himself, forcibly suppressing his discomfort.

The girl led Yizhe into the hall after only a few steps.

A faint fragrance drifted through the hall. In the middle of the room stood a middle-aged man in a long robe with his back to the entrance. Broken porcelain littered the floor behind him, while many beautiful porcelain pieces were displayed all around.

With his exceptional eyesight, Yizhe could see deep, intricate grain patterns floating across the surfaces of the wooden racks holding the porcelain.

Though he did not recognize the wood, he could still tell it was far from ordinary!

Even these few shabby racks were worth a fortune. It seemed this Miyamoto was extremely wealthy!

With such a lavish lifestyle, he was probably not short on money—or rather, his consultation fees were outrageously high. Yizhe silently prepared himself to be fleeced!

"Mr. Miyamoto, someone has come seeking treatment!" The girl shed her frivolous manner and respectfully reported to the middle-aged man upon entering the hall.

"I won't treat him, I won't treat him! Even if Mifune himself came today, I wouldn't treat him!" The middle-aged man waved his hand in refusal and roared in fury.

Hearing this, the girl gave Yizhe an apologetic look and prepared to lead him away.

He had already come this far. How could he let everything end in failure like this?

Yizhe steeled himself and called out loudly, "Mr. Miyamoto, why be so angry? Since they cannot capture the person, why not let this youngster give it a try?"

Miyamoto turned around in surprise. He wanted to see what kind of person dared make such a boast!

What met Miyamoto's eyes was a boy of thirteen or fourteen, with long black hair draped over his shoulders, a white headband wrapped around his forehead, and a white training outfit. His hands were tightly bound in bandages, with only a few fingers exposed.

He looked capable enough, but his hands seemed to be badly injured.

"What makes you think you can capture the person I want?"

"And why should I believe you?" Miyamoto looked at the boy before him with a half-smile.

"Mr. Miyamoto, you worry too much. Even if I fail to capture the person you want, you lose nothing, do you? But if this youngster is fortunate enough to capture your target and fulfill your wish, then I hope you will examine my injuries," Yizhe said neither humbly nor arrogantly.

"Interesting, very interesting! Even my carefully trained samurai cannot capture that person, yet you..."

"Mr. Miyamoto, I'm afraid you have the wrong idea." Yizhe shook his head.

"Oh?" The more Miyamoto spoke with him, the more interesting he found the boy.

"I am no samurai. I am a ninja. Naturally, ninjas do things very differently from samurai. Perhaps with my methods, I really can take down the target you seek!" Yizhe said confidently.

"Ha, ha, ha!" Miyamoto laughed loudly. "Since you insist on trying, I might as well tell you!"

As it turned out, Miyamoto loved money and was also an avid gambler.

A few days ago, when he went to a gambling house, he encountered a very beautiful woman around twenty years old.

The woman also loved gambling. They happened to hit it off, and with her good looks on top of that, Miyamoto began to entertain certain thoughts.

Perhaps it was an opportunity sent by heaven, but for some reason, the woman's luck at gambling was extraordinarily terrible. Sometimes, she could not win even once out of ten rounds, and she quickly lost all the money on her.

With ulterior motives in mind, Miyamoto generously kept lending her money so she could continue gambling.

Before long, the woman had lost every last bit of the money she borrowed from Miyamoto and accumulated an enormous debt to him.

But she had no money to repay it.

So Miyamoto demanded that she repay the debt with her body. Naturally, the woman refused and resisted fiercely, even injuring several of Miyamoto's guards.

"That woman looked delicate and frail, but she was incredibly strong! Even when my three guards attacked together, they couldn't restrain her!" Miyamoto said with feeling.

It was unclear whether he regretted failing to catch her or marveled at how formidable she was.

"Very strong?" Yizhe was somewhat dumbfounded.

It was the first time he had heard someone praise a woman for being strong.

"It's true! She really is very strong!" Hearing Yizhe mutter to himself, Miyamoto felt his pride taking a hit and repeatedly emphasized it.

"Oh? Then I really must see for myself." A strange glint flashed through Yizhe's eyes as his interest was piqued.

"Oh, right, boy! There's one more thing you need to prepare!" Miyamoto suddenly said.

"Prepare?" Yizhe was deeply puzzled.

"Prepare one million! This is not a charity hall. One million is the base price, and the exact consultation fee will increase depending on the situation!" Miyamoto said casually, as if one million were nothing more than drifting clouds.

Yizhe had originally thought that bringing Miyamoto his target and asking him to treat his injuries would be easy. But from Miyamoto's meaning now, finding the target was not enough—he still had to pay a consultation fee of one million.

At that moment, he felt as though he had swallowed a fly. It was utterly revolting!

Actually, I originally wanted to write that Miyamoto wanted the woman to repay him with her body.

But after thinking it over, I decided against it. I was afraid it would get censored, so I wrote it more euphemistically as "repay the debt with her body." O(≧?≦)O