Preparations

Beneath the flickering candlelight, Jing Wen sat alone at his desk, his expression calm, his fingertips unconsciously stroking a celadon teacup.

As someone who followed the path of cautious survival, he would act decisively only when the rewards were proportionate to the risks.

In this, Jing Wen was much like Han Old Devil-when danger arose, preserving his own life always came first.

Jing Wen had long been planning how to deal with Mo Juren.

He narrowed his eyes slightly and began reviewing tomorrow's operation.

Mo Juren was merely a mortal martial artist, now terminally ill and barely clinging to life. A single, small Fireball Technique would easily finish him off.

But the man was full of cunning schemes. The slightest carelessness could leave Jing Wen caught in one of his hidden traps.

The best approach, then, was to kill him in a single strike.

Next, Jing Wen thought of Qu Hun, who was none other than Zhang Tie.

This unfortunate man, whom Mo Juren had transformed into a puppet, possessed some fighting strength, but his movements were sluggish. With a little care, he would hardly pose a substantial threat.

What Jing Wen feared most, however, was the soul residing within Mo Juren's body-Yu Zitong.

Yu Zitong had originally been a cultivator at the Qi Refining Seventh Layer. After being worn down over a long period, he now had, at most, the cultivation of the Qi Refining Fourth Layer.

Even so, as a soul skilled at concealment and surprise attacks, he could not be taken lightly.

If all he wanted was to kill them, Jing Wen was absolutely certain of success.

But Jing Wen's goal was not so simple.

Jing Wen reached into his robe and took out a pill with a soft, lustrous sheen-a Concentration Pill.

The Concentration Pill was the key to dealing with Yu Zitong.

Once taken, it could rapidly strengthen his Divine Sense and soul for a short time, while also offering some resistance against soul-based attacks.

As he studied the pill in his hand, Jing Wen sank into thought.

His cultivation was currently only at the Qi Refining Fourth Layer. Facing Yu Zitong with such strength might leave some room for uncertainty.

Ordinarily, waiting until he reached the Qi Refining Fifth Layer or even the sixth layer would make the operation more secure.

Yet determination shone in Jing Wen's eyes. He was unwilling to wait any longer.

Even with pills taken daily to aid his cultivation, breaking through to the Qi Refining Fifth Layer would take at least a month.

Meanwhile, Mo Juren was right here in the Seven Mysteries Sect.

The Seven Mysteries Sect was a place where fish and dragons mingled, and news spread quickly. No one could guarantee that Mo Juren would not discover his presence.

Once Mo Juren grew alert, the situation would become complicated, and the chances of success would drop sharply.

That was why Jing Wen intended to act as soon as possible.

After days of preparation, Jing Wen was already ninety percent confident in the operation.

Although some unknown factors remained, opportunities in the cultivation world vanished in the blink of an eye. Excessive caution often meant missing the perfect chance.

The candle flame flickered in the gloom, stretching and shrinking Jing Wen's shadow.

He slowly rose, clasped his hands in front of him, and stretched slightly, his bones giving a series of soft cracks.

Then he moved to the bedside, where an old cloth bundle lay.

First, Jing Wen took a Fire Wall Talisman from the bundle.

After being stored for so long, the talisman paper had yellowed slightly around the edges. The crimson runes drawn upon it resembled lively fire snakes, giving off faint traces of warmth.

Though it was only a low-grade first-tier Fire Wall Talisman, it could raise a blazing barrier at a critical moment to block an enemy's attacks.

Next, Jing Wen picked up a low-grade flying sword.

Its slender blade gave off a cool metallic sheen, and the simple spiritual patterns engraved upon it shimmered faintly in the dim light.

He grasped the hilt and flicked his wrist, drawing a clear hum from the flying sword.

Then Jing Wen took out several small porcelain bottles, each containing a different medicine.

There was Rejuvenation Powder to rapidly restore spiritual power, Wound-Healing Pills to ease injuries, and Mind-Clearing Pills to briefly invigorate his essence, energy, and spirit.

Once everything was packed, Jing Wen sighed softly. "Ah, not having a Storage Bag really is a nuisance."

In the cultivation world, Storage Bags contained independent spaces, making it easy to carry all manner of items and greatly simplifying one's movements.

Without a Storage Bag, not only was the number of things he could carry limited, but retrieving them was also inconvenient.

At that thought, the figures of Yu Zitong and Venerable Golden Light appeared in Jing Wen's mind. The corners of his mouth rose unconsciously into a smile of certain victory. "But soon, I'll have a Storage Bag of my own."

Inside the Quiet Mystic Studio, the residence of the Seven Mysteries Sect's leader, a tiny candle flame cast the shadow of his dark Daoist robe diagonally across a carved screen.

He sat upright in a rosewood chair with his eyes closed, his knuckles tapping lightly on the armrest. His brows were faintly drawn together, and he clearly felt no inclination to sleep.

Beside him, a maid stood with her head lowered, massaging his shoulders and neck. Her pale fingers rested on his taut shoulder muscles, her movements as light and gentle as a butterfly.

Suddenly, a low sigh escaped the sect leader's throat, and the maid's heart tightened.

Having served him for three years, she naturally understood him somewhat-that sigh had held an anxiety he could scarcely conceal.

Without realizing it, she lightened her touch, her fingertips trembling slightly, afraid of angering this sect leader who was normally as steady as a mountain.

The sect leader's thoughts had already drifted far away, settling on Jing Wen's visit an hour earlier.

Jing Wen had worn a moon-white robe and a refined, gentle smile, yet his words had struck like thunder: "I hear Doctor Mo has returned to the mountain. I've long admired his medical skills and would like some of your disciples to seek treatment first, so I may gauge his abilities."

Those words had lodged like a thorn in the sect leader's heart.

He thought to himself, If you want to know how skilled Doctor Mo is, why not visit him yourself? Why go through my disciples?

What scheme lies behind such a roundabout approach?

Is he probing Doctor Mo's background, or taking the opportunity to sound out the strengths and weaknesses of my Seven Mysteries Sect?

His knuckles suddenly began tapping faster against the armrest, and the maid's breathing faltered for a moment.

The sect leader abruptly opened his eyes, a cold gleam flashing within them-he remembered Jing Wen's unfathomable internal strength. This was no ordinary wanderer of the martial world.

If he could win this man over, the Seven Mysteries Sect's footing in the martial world would become considerably firmer. He absolutely could not mishandle this "small matter."

"First, I'll do as Jing Wen requested. As for his purpose, I'll discover it naturally by observing him over time."

As his irritation gradually faded, the sect leader raised a hand to rest on the maid's wrist, his voice low and measured. "That pressure is just right."

He raised his voice. "Someone, come in."

A guard entered at his summons and stood below the steps with a bow.

The sect leader leaned forward and gave a few quiet instructions.

The guard accepted his orders and withdrew, leaving the studio silent once more.

In the flickering candlelight, the sect leader closed his eyes again. Though the crease between his brows had eased, a trace of contemplation still lingered in his eyes.

The morning sunlight struggled through the heavy clouds, draping the blue-stone archway at the entrance to Divine Hand Valley in a hazy veil.

The open ground outside the valley was already bustling, voices rising one after another-a crowd of Seven Mysteries Sect disciples, some cradling injured arms and others leaning on crutches, had heard of Doctor Mo's return the previous night and hurried over from the various peaks before dawn.

Among them were those whose recent injuries had yet to heal and others plagued by longstanding ailments. Anxiety and anticipation filled every face.

Everyone in the Seven Mysteries Sect knew Divine Hand Valley's rule: while Doctor Mo was seeing patients, unauthorized people were forbidden to enter.

Though their hearts burned with urgency, the disciples could only queue beneath the old locust tree at the valley entrance. Their eyes repeatedly strayed toward the bamboo house hidden in the morning mist, hoping Doctor Mo would appear soon.

Suddenly, the steady footsteps of sedan bearers approached from afar, and the crowd fell silent.

An exquisitely decorated ebony sedan chair was hurried over, the strings of pearls flanking its curtain swaying gently with each step and giving off a cool, lustrous gleam.

The curtain lifted, and two attendants carefully helped an old man out. Dressed in a gray robe patterned with clouds, his face was as white as writing paper, and his breathing was so shallow and rapid that a gust of wind seemed enough to scatter it-he was Elder Li, a highly respected figure within the sect.

With his exalted status, the elder naturally did not count among "unauthorized people." The disciple guarding the valley hurried forward to greet him and lead him inside.

Elder Li waved a hand, however, and said weakly, "No need. Let my attendant announce my arrival."

Remembering the sect leader's instructions from the previous night, and mindful of Doctor Mo's peculiar temperament, he leaned on his attendant and sat down on a stone bench beside the sedan chair to wait. Seeing this, the surrounding disciples secretly breathed sighs of relief. Even an elder has come. Doctor Mo will surely see patients today.

Inside Divine Hand Valley, Doctor Mo sat cross-legged with his eyes closed, resting his mind.

Sandalwood incense curled from the bronze burner, but it could not suppress the weariness etched between his brows.

He had spent this recent stretch of time traveling far and wide in search of medicinal ingredients, leaving him exhausted in both body and mind.

He could clearly feel his vitality slipping away. How could he spare a thought for whether anyone else lived or died?

"Doctor Mo, Elder Li requests an audience at the valley entrance. He says he is unwell." A disciple's announcement broke the silence.

Doctor Mo's brows immediately knotted into three deep lines, and his fingers clenched the silk handkerchief on his knee.

So what if he's an elder of the Seven Mysteries Sect?

In his eyes, the man was no different from an ordinary disciple.

But on second thought, he still needed to lie low within the Seven Mysteries Sect. Refusing even an elder the courtesy of a meeting would inevitably cause unnecessary trouble.

After a helpless sigh, Doctor Mo slowly rose, straightened his blue cloth robe, and went to the mirror to put on a broad bamboo hat. Its thin black veil concealed every wrinkle and all the exhaustion on his face.

By the time he stepped outside, he had settled on his plan: regardless of the elder's condition, he would decline on the grounds of insufficient strength, then ask the sect leader for leave to enter seclusion. He would tolerate no further disturbances.

The moment Doctor Mo appeared at the valley entrance, the crowd erupted, cheers washing over the archway like a tide.

The disciples stepped forward to greet him, their eyes brimming with hope.

Doctor Mo did not even raise his eyelids. He walked straight through the crowd to Elder Li. The thin veil hanging from his bamboo hat remained perfectly still, and only a cold voice, deliberately lowered, emerged from behind it. "I am unwell myself and lack the strength to treat you."

Elder Li had barely begun to utter "Doctor Mo" when Doctor Mo raised a hand to stop him.

That bony hand hung in the air with an authority that brooked no argument.

Doctor Mo lifted his gaze and swept it over the restless crowd. His voice abruptly rose, weak yet clear in every word, like beads of ice striking blue stone. "During my travels, I exhausted more than half my true qi. I can barely protect myself. How could I treat the elder's illness?"

He paused, his gaze passing over their frozen faces, then added, "I have already sent someone to inform the sect leader. Starting today, I will enter seclusion to recuperate. No matter who comes, I will see no patients-please leave." His words allowed no room for negotiation.

The valley entrance instantly fell deathly silent.

The smiles froze on the disciples' faces. Anticipation turned to disappointment, then to profound helplessness, and some could not suppress quiet sighs.

Elder Li was stunned as well. He opened his mouth, but in the end, he could not voice the sect leader's request.

Ignoring the disappointment all around him, Doctor Mo gave Elder Li a slight nod, then turned and walked back into the valley.

The shadow of his bamboo hat fell across the blue-stone paving, shifting slowly with his steps as he left everyone's gazes and sighs far behind in the morning mist.