Lu Changfeng could only continue, "The fourth option is for me to prescribe Calm Spirit and Set the Will and nurse him back to health slowly. But his depletion is so severe that it has already affected his mind. There's no telling when he'll recover. Three to five years, eight to ten years-either is possible."
Shen Lingyue understood.
The first three methods all carried risks. The fourth was the safest, but also the slowest.
Yet a martial artist's golden years for cultivation lasted only so long.
Shen Guannan was in his early thirties, a crucial period when his Sword Dao should have been advancing by leaps and bounds. If he lost three to five years, he might still catch up; if he lost eight to ten, his entire life would be ruined!
A prodigy of his generation, fallen from the clouds-even if he recovered, he might find it impossible to accept.
Shen Lingyue knew all too well how proud his son was!
Without hesitation, Shen Lingyue stepped back and bowed deeply to Lu Changfeng.
"I beg you to help him, sir."
He raised his head, his gaze sharp as a sword, and spoke each word distinctly. "Name your fee. Everyone in the Shu Mountain Sword Sect will obey your wishes. All I ask is that you restore my son's mind!"
Everyone present was visibly moved.
A bow from the Sword Saint carried far more weight than a thousand tons.
Lu Changfeng looked at him, then at the madman muttering to himself on the couch, and fell silent.
After a long moment, he sighed.
"Very well."
He looked at Shen Lingyue, his expression serious. "But let me make the risks clear first. I'll use the third method, replenishing his spirit with mine. It works quickly, but after he recovers, his temperament,