Chapter 32

For a physician, composure is paramount, especially when confronting complex, critical, and urgent medical conditions.

The tribulation clouds had dispersed, and the starry sky was once again ablaze with stars.

Treatment demanded every second; there was no time for grief…

Yue Wuhuan carefully lifted Song Qingshi and secretly hurried back to Medicine King Valley.

First, he retrieved a Golden Lotus Heart-Protecting Pill from the treasury’s collection and administered it to Song Qingshi to stabilize his vital signs. Then, he quietly moved Song Qingshi to a secluded meditation chamber. This chamber, located beneath the palace, contained unfinished ancient texts and a small, disused medicinal spring bath, known for its nourishing properties.

Song Qingshi had once bathed there but later abandoned it, finding the bath too small, and built a larger one outside the palace. Yue Wuhuan had stumbled upon this chamber by chance while cleaning, and since it hadn't been used for centuries, its existence was unknown to anyone else in Medicine King Valley.

The injury of Medicine King Immortal concerned the safety of Medicine King Valley and Song Qingshi’s life—it had to remain a secret.

Yue Wuhuan redirected the spring’s flow, removed Song Qingshi’s torn clothing, and gently lowered him into the water.

His frail, slender body was covered in extensive burns, stark against his pale skin, a shocking and horrifying sight. His left side was almost carbonized by lightning, with severed meridians. One could only imagine the excruciating pain he must have endured at the moment of impact…

Yet, despite facing near-certain death, he had never wavered…

Even in his unconscious state, he had used all his spiritual power to contain the Netherworld’s Ethereal Flame within his body, preventing its toxic fire from spreading and harming those around him. This sacrifice meant he couldn't regenerate his limbs like other Nascent Soul cultivators.

After examining him with his divine sense, Yue Wuhuan gazed at the figure in the pool, his heart aching. He forced himself to recall his past studies, maintaining composure as he added Spirit-Converging Powder and Bone-Mending Elixir to the water, striving to stabilize Song Qingshi’s bodily functions and preserve his life force…

Fortunately, his diligent studies proved effective—the medicines began to work.

Song Qingshi’s vital signs began to stabilize, but his bonded spiritual artifact was damaged, injuring his nascent soul and leaving him unable to awaken from his coma.

Having done all he could, Yue Wuhuan finally allowed himself to grieve.

As he watched the figure floating in the water, he suddenly recalled the terrifying rumors he had once heard about Medicine King Immortal—how his formidable twin lotus flames could incinerate entire mountains, annihilate sects, and reduce displeasing cultivators to ashes in an instant. Yet the man before him was kind and gentle, embodying all the beauty in the world, now reduced to fragile, cracked porcelain by the cruel fate that pursued him.

His loathing for this filthy world, the unjust heavens, and most of all, his own helplessness, intensified. His heart ached, and every inch of his body was consumed by sorrow.

He wanted to destroy everything…

His breathing grew ragged, his emotions teetering toward loss of control.

But he couldn't…

Yue Wuhuan knew his emotions were spiraling again. He quickly suppressed the destructive urge with Emotion Lock, took deep breaths, and followed the psychological techniques Song Qingshi had taught him—focusing on beautiful things to curb the madness and drive away suicidal thoughts.

For some reason, Song Qingshi’s promise surfaced in his mind:

"Whatever you’ve lost, I’ll help you reclaim. Whatever you desire, I’ll give you."

He hadn't understood it then, but now he did.

This promise had included his very life…

The more Yue Wuhuan understood, the more obsessed and infatuated he became.

He was a demon who had crawled out of hell, cloaked in harmless sheep’s clothing, coveting what he shouldn't with despicable emotions, seeking to defile the purest divinity in the world with his filthy body.

He was disgusting…

Yue Wuhuan closed his eyes, unable to bear the thoughts. Slowly, he knelt by the pool, lifting Song Qingshi’s relatively unscathed right hand from the water and placing a reverent kiss upon it.

"Qing Shi, don’t be afraid. Medicine King Valley has many medical texts—I’ll devote myself to studying them…"

"Qing Shi, don’t be afraid. I’ll protect Medicine King Valley, ensuring no harm comes to it…"

"Qing Shi, don’t be afraid. I’ll take good care of your little white mice…"

"Qing Shi, don’t be afraid. I won’t give up on life again…"

Yue Wuhuan’s eyes remained open, his heart wept though his eyes stayed dry. His body ached, yet he felt nothing. Blood dripped from his forehead like tears, sliding down his cheeks and leaving ugly stains on Song Qingshi’s hand.

These red stains… so filthy…

He tried to wipe them away, but feared being too gentle to clean them properly or too rough and disturbing the sleeping man.

After a moment, he lowered his head, pressing his burning lips to the cool skin. He tenderly kissed the back of the hand, then trailed down, taking each finger into his mouth before reluctantly releasing them. He kissed every inch of the hand meticulously, cleansing it, imprinting the scent firmly in his heart—and stopping there, not daring to cross the line.

Clutching the most precious hand in his life, Yue Wuhuan swore the most solemn oath:

"Qing Shi, I will heal you."

…

Northern Reaches, Zhenhe City, Cantong Sect.

Zhenhe City was a remote town, and the Cantong Sect was an offshoot of the Joyful Union Sect. Its leader, Guiyuan Immortal Venerable, had reached the Nascent Soul stage and managed brothels and gambling dens in the city. With a flirtatious nature and foxy eyes, he always wore a knowing smile, though in truth, he was cruel and ruthless—a figure none dared to provoke.

Tonight, Guiyuan Immortal Venerable could no longer smile.

Countless terrifying Gu insects darkened the sky, covering every inch of the Cantong Sect, slaughtering everything in their path.

An Long sat in an armchair, lips pressed tightly, his narrow eyes gleaming with malice as he twirled a wine cup, drinking in the spectacle. Beside him knelt a male concubine who had climbed from Guiyuan’s bed, disheveled and trembling, obediently pouring wine without daring to glance at his former master.

Guiyuan was already engulfed in a swarm of Gu insects, paralyzed and unable to move.

His bloodshot eyes demanded answers, but a monstrous centipede crawled from his mouth, his swollen tongue stealing his speech, leaving only muffled whimpers.

An Long smirked. "Wondering why I’m killing you?"

Guiyuan nodded desperately, his cries hoarse.

"That day on the mountain, you saw what I did, didn’t you?" An Long’s smile was demonic, as though discussing the weather. "Though we’ve no feud, and it’s no longer important… why did you have to witness my shame?"

Just for that—his humiliation—he had annihilated the entire Cantong Sect?

Guiyuan’s eyes nearly wept blood. He had considered countless motives the Xilin Gu King might want him dead, but never dreamed it would be over something so trivial! He hadn't even given it a second thought!

The Xilin Gu King was a ravenous wolf, bereft of human feeling—his actions defied logic.

He had grown through slaughter, existing only to consume others.

An Long downed his wine and casually flicked his fingers. The Gu insects swiftly severed Guiyuan’s neck before swarming over the corpse.

The shuddering concubine refilled his wine, recalling rumors of the Gu King’s fondness for beauty. He attempted a seductive glance, but fear twisted it into a spasmodic twitch.

Amused, An Long glanced at the half-full wine jug, reluctant to leave just yet. Baring his fangs, he struck up a conversation. "Pretty thing, what’s your name?"

The concubine forced a smile. "Si Yao."

"Oh? Good name." An Long’s interest piqued as he eyed the man’s fair hands. "What’s your connection to medicine?"

Si Yao answered cautiously, "My father was an apothecary."

An Long asked again, "Don’t you want to avenge your old lover?"

Si Yao chuckled without turning around. "You jest, Immortal Lord. That man was never a lover."

An Long continued teasing him. "When I arrived, I heard you calling him 'darling' and 'sweetheart' in bed. How is that not a lover?"

"I belong to the South Wind Pavilion," Si Yao forced himself to stay calm, unable to guess what the man before him wanted to hear. Finally, he steeled his heart and confessed, "I’m just a rented companion—whoever pays is my 'darling' and 'sweetheart.'"

An Long froze for a moment, then burst into laughter, exclaiming, "Good, good, good!"

Si Yao continued flattering, "Master is so magnificent. Even without payment, I’d still consider you my 'darling' and 'sweetheart.'"

An Long glanced at his slender frame draped in a white robe, his refined face, and idly tugged a strand of long hair, twirling it around his fingers. As if lost in memory, he muttered softly after a long pause, "If only he could think like you—calling someone 'darling' for coin. How wonderful that would be. The one thing I’ve never lacked is money…"

Si Yao didn’t understand his meaning and dared not respond carelessly.

An Long yanked his hair harshly and asked, "Tell me, how many passionless cultivation partners exist in this world?"

Si Yao endured the pain and answered, "Many."

An Long hesitated before asking, "How do such couples come together?"

Si Yao replied without hesitation, "For wealth, status, power, or looks."

"Well said! I like that!" An Long was overjoyed, releasing the hair with satisfaction. "What’s the point of feelings between partners? As long as they covet my wealth, my authority, my power, my looks, or my kindness, that’s enough…"

Si Yao looked bewildered. "With such sincerity from the Immortal Lord, who wouldn’t adore you?"

"He won’t love me," An Long drained the last drop of wine from the jug, finally slightly drunk. He rose slowly, pressing a finger against Si Yao’s forehead, staring blankly at the white-robed figure who bore a faint resemblance. A trace of despair flashed in his eyes before he suddenly burst into laughter, mocking himself. "That man… walks the Emotionless Path…"

For five hundred years, he’d known his longing was futile.

The Emotionless Path—the Great Dao tolerates no affection. One must never harbor affection, or their cultivation will be utterly destroyed.

So the love he craved would always elude him.

Thus, he could never claim that heart.

…

An Long used the Emotion Lock to restrain his nearly uncontrollable greed and malice.

A pinprick of light—a Gu insect—emerged from his fingertip and burrowed into Si Yao’s forehead. "For the sake of your name, and because your answers pleased me…"

The insect ate through his memories, and Si Yao collapsed slowly.

An Long strode out the main gate as the tide of insects receded. A white snake glistening with blood slithered across the corpses, sated, then coiled around his arm and shoulder before sullenly turning its head away. He patted the snake’s head and coaxed,

"Alright, alright. I’ll write Little Qing Shi and coax him out of his temper."

"What novelty should I send him this time?"

"I heard the Cloudcrest Secret Realm will open soon. There are some interesting medicinal herbs inside. Let’s steal them for Qing Shi, shall we?"