The three left the room.
Chen Tie arranged with Shen Yan to notify him if anything changed, then went back to the inner courtyard's basement to practice martial arts.
At noon, Chen Tie saw Shen Yan and Xu Da in the dining hall.
"How is Junior Brother Zhang?"
A trace of regret crossed Shen Yan's face. He set down his bowl and chopsticks. "He's awake. I slipped into his room to see him earlier."
Chen Tie's gaze sharpened. "He's conscious? Does he remember what happened last night?"
"Not a thing." Shen Yan shook his head, his voice bitter. "He said that while he was traveling last night, a terrible pain struck the back of his head without any warning, and he passed out on the spot. He never heard footsteps or saw anyone. He has no idea whether his attacker was tall or short, fat or thin, male or female, young or old. When he opened his eyes again, it was already this morning. Pain pierced him to the bone, and he couldn't move any of his limbs."
"Doctor Cao examined him again and put it even more bluntly."
Shen Yan lowered his voice, a hint of despair in it. "The external injuries can heal slowly. The bruising and broken bones can recover after a few months of bandaging and rest, but the joints in all four limbs are shattered, his sinews and bones are badly damaged, and his martial foundation has collapsed. He'll be lucky if he can walk normally."
"Ordinary medicinal decoctions and herbs won't help in the slightest."
He paused. "The doctor said outright that repairing his damaged sinews, bones, and meridians and restoring his martial foundation would require, at the very least, a rare fifty-year-old treasure herb to restore vitality to his bones and blood."
Chen Tie's pupils contracted slightly.
A fifty-year-old treasure herb-how exceedingly rare that was.
Even the medicine shops in the inner city stocked, at most, ordinary herbs ten or twenty years old. Those over thirty years old already had a price but no supply. Fifty-year-old treasure herbs were long beyond what ordinary money could buy. Most were monopolized and hoarded by the major factions and martial halls to treat core disciples or achieve breakthroughs.
The Fierce Tiger Martial Hall simply lacked the resources to obtain one.
To put it bluntly, Zhang Long's martial path was severed.
"How is he doing now?" Chen Tie asked gravely.
"He's fully conscious, and that's the most painful part." Xu Da looked distressed. "He already knows he'll never be able to practice martial arts again. Earlier, he was lying in bed with his eyes open, not saying a word, as though he'd lost his soul."
"Master Mo went out. I heard he intended to look for a treatment, but the chances are slim..."
Chen Tie fell silent at that.
Not long ago, Zhang Long had been a spirited genius disciple in whom the entire hall had placed high hopes. Overnight, he had become a cripple whose martial path was cut off. The blow was too great.
Chen Tie guessed that the attacker had reached at least flesh refining perfection, and might even be a Bone Forging martial artist!
At that thought, Chen Tie's heart chilled. He silently warned himself that he had to keep a low profile until he broke through to the Bone Forging realm.
That afternoon, Chen Tie settled his emotions and returned to the basement to continue training.
On the way, he saw a middle-aged man and woman hurry into Zhang Long's room. Presumably, they were his parents. Unrestrained wails came from within.
He could well imagine how great a blow this was to the two of them.
Zhang Long's plight constantly reminded him that he needed to gain greater strength.
The inner courtyard.
Mo Hong entered the room, weighed down by worries. His usual languid composure was gone. His plain long robe was slightly creased, and an intractable weariness and sorrow clouded his brow.
The calamity that had befallen Zhang Long had something to do with the Fierce Tiger Martial Hall-or rather, with Mo Hong himself.
Most likely, a rival or someone he had made an enemy of in the past had seen what an outstanding disciple he had and struck viciously from the shadows. Rather than killing the disciple, they had deliberately crippled him. The method was far too ruthless.
Seeing Mo Hong enter, Zhang Long's parents wiped away their tears and asked softly, with hope in their voices.
"Hall Master Mo, can our son still be saved? Can he practice martial arts again?"
Mo Hong said nothing and looked at the disciple on the bed.
Hearing the footsteps, Zhang Long struggled to turn his eyes toward the approaching Mo Hong. His dull eyes instantly filled with tears.
Mo Hong walked slowly to the bedside and lowered his gaze to the disciple in whom he had placed his greatest hopes. His Adam's apple bobbed as he suppressed the ache within him, and he said softly, "Doctor Cao from the city examined you again earlier. After deliberating for half a day, he drew up a new prescription."
He paused, a trace of strained hope in his voice. "This prescription has unusual medicinal properties. With rare medicinal catalysts to nourish you continuously, your condition isn't beyond treatment. There is still a faint chance of healing and recovery. But the natural treasures it requires are extremely difficult to find, and the cost is enormous."
Those words were like a glimmer of light shining into Zhang Long's darkened world.
Zhang Long, whose heart had been dead ashes, grew agitated. His chest heaved violently, pulling at the broken bones throughout his body. Bone-piercing agony swept through him, making him tremble violently as cold sweat instantly covered his temples.
Ignoring the tearing pain, he stared fixedly at Mo Hong. His eyes were red, and tears rolled uncontrollably down his face, soaking his pillowcase. His weak voice shook terribly with a frantic plea.
"Master! I beg you!"
"Whatever the price, however many resources or savings it takes, even if it takes everything the martial hall has, even if I have to toil like an ox or a horse, I'm willing!"
"I've trained hard day and night, never daring to slack off in the slightest. All I've sought my entire life is a path forward in martial arts! I can't be crippled! I absolutely cannot become a cripple!"
Zhang Long lost control of his emotions, forcing out every word with all his strength. "As long as I can recover, as long as I can return to my martial path, I, Zhang Long, am willing to bear any price! Master, please save me!"
Watching Zhang Long's tear-streaked face as he pleaded in despair, Mo Hong was filled with conflicting feelings, his heart twisting as though cut by a knife.
He already knew the prescription's harsh requirements. He knew that the supposed chance of recovery was so slim as to be almost nonexistent. He knew that a fifty-year-old treasure herb and all the rare medicinal catalysts were simply beyond what the Fierce Tiger Martial Hall could currently afford.
But seeing his finest disciple refuse to sink into ruin, desperately yearning for the martial path, he could not bring himself to refuse.
"Hall Master Mo, we beg you too. Save our son!"
"We're willing to toil like oxen and horses!"
"Please rest assured, both of you. I'll do everything I can."
Mo Hong sighed deeply, his brows tightly knitted. He raised a hand and gently wiped the tears from the corners of Zhang Long's eyes, speaking in a low, helpless voice.
"Focus on recovering. I... will find a way."
In a secluded tearoom deep within the martial hall, two old friends with half-gray hair and beards were already waiting.
As Mo Hong pushed open the door and entered, both men rose. Seeing his haggard appearance, they each sighed.
Qian He said helplessly, "Mo Laohu, give it up."
He laid out the consequences. "I quietly examined that disciple's injuries earlier. To be blunt, this talk of healing him with a fifty-year-old treasure herb is merely a physician's words of comfort. Even if you empty your coffers to find one, at most it will restore him to an ordinary person's condition. It cannot possibly repair his martial foundation and return him to his peak."
Zheng Rong agreed. "The Fierce Tiger Martial Hall has limited resources to begin with. Emptying its savings for one crippled disciple simply isn't worth it."
"As hall master, you have to consider the bigger picture. You can't drag down the entire hall over a moment of softheartedness."
Mo Hong remained unmoved.
"I must save this disciple. Even if there's only a thread of hope, I have to try."
Seeing how stubborn he was, the two men could only shake their heads in the end.