Inheritance of Faith

The morning sunlight spilled down softly, gilding the entire city a pale gold.

The sanitation worker assigned to clean the area visibly jumped when he saw the three bodies laid out in a neat row.

He let out a scream as he dialed the police, his hands trembling.

When the police arrived, they merely looked at the bodies in silence, then had them taken to the morgue.

They launched no investigation and asked no questions about the cause of death, as though they had long since grown used to such things.

After all, someone had notified them in advance. All they needed to do was dispose of the bodies properly.

The bodies of two men and one woman were carried into the morgue and laid down without ceremony. A deathly silence descended.

Above them, the hospital bustled with people. Some hurried past, while others spoke quietly about their own illnesses or discussed the conditions of their children, relatives, and friends with worry in their voices.

They prayed fervently to recover their health.

Hope and pleading filled some of their eyes, but far more had gone numb—or fallen utterly silent.

A whole day slipped by. At night, a gentle breeze stirred the streets outside, but it could not reach the seemingly endless morgue.

At the entrance, a young doctor sat dozing. His eyes were weary, but he showed no fear of the dead.

He had clearly spent so long here that he had grown accustomed to the cold bodies. There was nothing strange about them to him anymore.

But just as he drifted into a hazy sleep, a body at the very back of the morgue suddenly sat up. Its tag said it was to be taken away for cremation tomorrow.

It was a woman. She sat bolt upright.

Her gaze swept over the dim room before she stared blankly at her hands.

Then she gently touched the place where her body should have been split in two.

Her heart was beating strongly. Somehow, her body was unharmed.

The woman—Leng Xiaoyue—sat there in a daze, her eyes full of confusion.

She did not understand why she had come back to life. Yet in a haze, she seemed to see a pair of calm, indifferent eyes, black as ink.

The owner of those eyes had merely glanced at her, and she had returned from the depths of death.

Her body was whole again, and her expression gradually grew calm.

All her pain and suffering seemed to have vanished. She had truly died, yet here she was, undeniably alive.

Coming back from the dead was a miracle, but Leng Xiaoyue could not understand why such a miracle had happened to her.

She only felt that those eyes were familiar.

The image of a gentle young man looking at her kept flashing through her mind.

The two faces, seemingly alike yet subtly different, slowly began to overlap.

Before Leng Xiaoyue could think any further, pain shot through her head. A complete stream of information surfaced in her mind.

It was a prayer praising the Medicine King, sacred words extolling the compassion of that great being.

All who prayed to the Medicine King could attain Eternal Life, be freed from every pain and calamity, and ascend together to a realm of eternal bliss.

The words branded themselves deep into her mind, as though she were being brainwashed.

She could also clearly sense that her body—or rather, her entire state of being—had undergone an earth-shaking change.

Her Martial Soul was not the phoenix-type Martial Soul passed down through the Leng Family. It was something entirely different, inherited not from her father but from her mother.

Her Martial Soul was a windlike Kingfisher.

Now, as she slowly raised her hand, strange vines appeared across the emerald Kingfisher behind her.

The Kingfisher's eyes grew brighter and clearer. She could feel her body and power changing with terrifying speed.

At the same time, a message in her mind kept guiding her: she was to pass on and spread the Medicine King's faith and power.

It urged her to have everyone pray to the great Yaoshi, beg for the Eternal Life he bestowed, and sing his praises aloud.

Praise the Medicine King! The Disciples of Sanctus Medicus!

As the last of these thoughts poured into her mind, Leng Xiaoyue rose dazedly. Her body seemed to move beyond her control, carrying her forward.

Her gaze fell on the doctor slumped by the entrance. She walked calmly past him and headed upstairs.

In the wards above, many critically ill patients lay quietly in their beds.

Some had family beside them, holding their hands tightly with sorrow in their eyes.

But many more had fallen utterly silent. They had lost all hope.

They knew they were nearing the end of their lives and had begun to wait quietly for death.

Countless regrets lay buried in their hearts. They did not want to die. They longed to live.

They wanted to watch their children grow up, care for their aging parents through their final years, and remain beside their partners.

For those wishes, they would give anything—even their souls and their faith.

And deep that night, a serene figure slowly appeared in every mind or dream.

He rested quietly against an immense, luxuriant ancient tree.

The tree was so vast its end could not be seen, yet so small that it could not fully hide his body.

He sat cross-legged in silence. Six arms grew from his body, yet it seemed he had countless more.

Pale-gold hair fell over his forehead. A power both beyond worldly concerns and gentle with compassion began to flow around him.

Faint red threads wound around his arms and body, but did nothing to diminish his bearing.

Branches extended from his crown, their emerald boughs seemingly filled with boundless vitality.

The gravely ill patients stared, transfixed, at the immense being who had appeared in their minds.

Then the words of a prayer sounded in their heads.

The prayer was somewhat strange, yet they seemed to sense clearly what would happen if they prayed to this great being.

They did not hesitate.

Some were atheists. Some were scientists. A few had even been staunch believers in technology, certain it could create anything.

But faced with the crushing grief of death and the fear of their own approaching end, they spoke the words almost at once.

"Compassion of the Medicine King, let the Ambrosial Arbor flourish! Disciples of Sanctus Medicus, one heart, ascending together to bliss! Praise Abundance! Marvel at Abundance! Praise Abundance!"