The atmosphere in the sickroom was brittle, like a bowstring pulled to the snapping point.
City Lord Su Chang stood by the bed, his hand gripping the hilt of his sword so tightly his knuckles were white. He looked at the cup of black, foul-smelling sludge in Li Fan's hand, then at the pale, shivering face of his daughter.
"You have one chance," Su Chang repeated, his voice trembling with a mix of hope and murderous intent.
"City Lord! This is madness!" Grandmaster Liu stepped forward, his face twisted in indignation. He pointed his jade staff at Li Fan as if trying to banish a demon. "You are going to let a beggar feed pig blood to the Young Miss? This is an insult to the Dao of Medicine! It is an insult to me!"
Li Fan didn't look at the Alchemist. He swirled the cup gently, keeping the mixture warm.
"Grandmaster Liu," Li Fan said calmly. "If your 'Pure Yang Pill' is so miraculous, why is there frost on her eyebrows?"
"That is... that is the poison reacting!" Liu stammered. "It gets worse before it gets better!"
"Wrong," Li Fan cut him off. "It gets worse because you are feeding fire to a girl whose soul is made of ice. You are cooking her alive."
He turned to the City Lord. "Hold her head up. Now. Or she won't survive the next incense stick."
Su Chang looked into Li Fan's eyes. He didn't see the deference of a commoner. He saw the absolute, unshakable confidence of a monster.
Desperation won.
Su Chang nodded to the steward. "Do it."
"City Lord!" Liu gasped.
"Silence!" Su Chang roared, the spiritual pressure of a Foundation Establishment expert flaring for a brief second. "If she dies, I will kill him myself. But until then... let him work."
The steward, trembling, stepped forward and gently lifted Su Ling's head, propping it against a silk pillow. Her skin was translucent, blue veins visible beneath the surface. Her breath came in shallow, ragged gasps that misted in the freezing air.
Li Fan stepped closer. The smell of the Yin-Yang Anchoring Soup—the rotten metallic tang of boar blood mixed with the spicy pungency of Fire-Wisp Grass—wafted over the bed.
Su Ling's nose twitched. Even in her coma, she recoiled.
"Open her mouth," Li Fan ordered.
The steward pried her jaw open.
Li Fan poured.
He didn't do it gently. He poured the thick black sludge down her throat with practiced efficiency. It wasn't a noble medical procedure; it looked like he was fueling a furnace.
"Swallow," Li Fan whispered, tapping a specific acupoint on her throat.
Su Ling's throat convulsed. She swallowed.
Once. Twice. The entire cup disappeared into her stomach.
Li Fan stepped back, wiping a drop of black liquid from his thumb. "Done."
For a long moment, nothing happened.
The room remained freezing. Su Ling lay still, the black residue staining her pale lips.
Grandmaster Liu let out a dark, mocking laugh. "See? Nothing. You just fed filth to a dying girl. City Lord, arrest this charlatan! I will prepare the antidote for the boar blood immediately, perhaps we can still—"
Gurgle.
A sound came from Su Ling's stomach. It was loud, wet, and violent.
Her body suddenly arched off the bed, her spine bending like a bow. Her eyes flew open—not seeing, but staring blindly at the ceiling. They were completely white, covered in frost.
"Ling'er!" Su Chang screamed, rushing forward.
"Stay back!" Li Fan commanded.
Su Ling's body began to convulse. Her skin, which had been pale blue, suddenly flushed a deep, angry red. Steam began to rise from her pores.
"She's burning up!" Liu shouted triumphantly. "You killed her! The blood is boiling her insides!"
"No," Li Fan said, crossing his arms. "The anchor has caught the ship."
BLEUGH!
Su Ling leaned forward and vomited.
It wasn't food. It was a torrent of black, icy slush. It hit the floor with a hiss, freezing the stone tiles instantly. The temperature in the room plummeted for a second, then snapped back to normal.
She vomited again—this time, red blood mixed with the black sludge.
And then, she collapsed back onto the pillows.
The room went silent.
Su Chang stared at his daughter. He reached out a trembling hand and touched her forehead.
He froze.
"Warm," he whispered. Tears welled up in his eyes. "She... she's warm."
The frost on the windows began to melt, dripping water onto the floor. The biting chill that had plagued the Manor for weeks evaporated, replaced by the natural warmth of the braziers.
Su Ling's breathing, previously ragged, deepened. The blue tint faded from her skin, replaced by a healthy, mortal flush.
She blinked. Her eyes, no longer white, focused hazily on the man in gold.
"Father?" she rasped, her voice weak but clear. "Why... why does my mouth taste like old iron?"
Su Chang collapsed by the bed, sobbing openly. "Ling'er! You're awake! You're awake!"
Grandmaster Liu stood frozen, his mouth hanging open. He looked from the girl to the puddle of black ice vomit, then to Li Fan.
"Impossible..." Liu muttered. "The Yin Poison... it was purged? By boar blood? That defies the Five Elements! That defies logic!"
Li Fan turned to the Alchemist. He didn't gloat. He didn't need to. The results spoke louder than any insult.
"The Dao is simple," Li Fan said flatly. "You tried to be clever. I just used gravity."
He turned his back on the stunned Grandmaster and addressed the weeping City Lord.
"City Lord Su," Li Fan said. "The treatment is complete. She will need rest, and no spirit pills for a month. Just rice porridge and water."
Su Chang stood up. He wiped the tears from his face. When he looked at Li Fan, the murderous rage was gone, replaced by profound awe and gratitude.
"Benefactor," Su Chang said, his voice thick with emotion. "You have saved my life by saving hers. I... I apologize for my earlier rudeness."
He bowed.
A City Lord, a ruler of millions, bowed to a man in dusty robes and a bamboo hat.
The guards and servants in the room gasped. Grandmaster Liu looked like he wanted to crawl into a hole and die.
"I promised a reward," Su Chang said, straightening up. "Ten thousand gold. No... twenty thousand! And I will name you the Chief Physician of Mortal Dust City!"
"I have no use for gold," Li Fan rasped, shaking his head. "And I have no desire for titles."
"Then what?" Su Chang asked eagerly. "Spirit Stones? Artifacts? Ask, and it is yours."
Li Fan looked around the lavish room. He looked at the expensive vases, the silk curtains, and the weeping father.
"I want access to your 'Junk Storage'," Li Fan said.
"My... what?" Su Chang blinked, confused.
"The warehouse where you keep the things you don't understand," Li Fan clarified. "Broken artifacts. Rusted metal. The things you consider trash."
"That old shed?" Su Chang was baffled. "Benefactor, there is nothing there but scrap metal and failed talismans! Take the Treasury instead! There are high-grade Spirit Swords there!"
"I am a humble man with humble tastes," Li Fan lied smoothly. "The scrap heap will suffice. And..."
He paused.
"I heard the Small Pond Secret Realm is opening soon. I assume the City Lord has a slot?"
"I have three slots," Su Chang nodded vigorously. "If Benefactor wishes to enter, I will give you the token immediately!"
"One token," Li Fan said. "And one hour in the junk pile. That is the price."
Su Chang looked at Li Fan as if he were a saint descended from the heavens. A man who refused gold and glory, asking only for trash and a dangerous adventure? Truly, this was a hidden expert!
"Granted!" Su Chang shouted. "Steward! Take Master... ah, I didn't catch your name?"
Li Fan pulled his bamboo hat down slightly.
"Zhang San," he said, using the most common, forgettable fake name in existence.
"Take Master Zhang to the Warehouse! Let him take whatever he wants!"
Li Fan turned and walked toward the door. As he passed Grandmaster Liu, the old Alchemist shrank back, unable to meet his gaze.
Li Fan didn't even slow down.
Gold is heavy, Li Fan thought as he followed the steward. Titles are chains. But in a pile of junk, a sharp eye can find a kingdom.