Chapter 82

Paying debts is only right.

Song Qingshi loathed being in debt, especially for a life-saving one. He tried hard to explain, hoping to convince the man, who seemed to be Song Jincheng’s elder, that he was a man of his word—definitely not a shameless deadbeat who would skip out on medical bills. Whether it was alchemy, exploring secret realms, taking odd jobs, or setting up stalls, he would earn money properly to repay the debt!

He wasn’t good with words, stammering through his explanation for a long time…

Mr. Yue’s aura grew increasingly dark, his displeasure palpable even through the mask.

Song Qingshi panicked even more. High-grade spirit stones were incredibly expensive. An ordinary Foundation Establishment Cultivator, without extraordinary luck or special skills, would be doing well to earn a few dozen per year. Song Jincheng was a spoiled rich kid, which was why he could casually produce precious pills worth eight hundred spirit stones. Now that an elder had shown up, what if he was taken for a con artist?

He remembered that the cultivation world had no legal constraints—scammers could be killed on the spot without repercussions.

"Don’t panic," Song Jincheng said, though his own legs were trembling in fear of his grand-uncle. Seeing Song Qingshi’s nervous distress, he still found the nerve to speak up for his patient. "The Medicine King Valley doesn’t kill people for being unable to pay medical fees. Besides, the medicine was mine—no one will come after you for the cost. Grand-uncle isn’t here for you. He’s here to catch me…"

Mr. Yue finally turned and gave the hopeless student a glance. "Explain."

"I met this young man in Min Mountain. It was raining, and he was badly injured," Song Jincheng said, knowing he couldn’t escape punishment. He tried to downplay his faults and highlight his benevolence, hoping to lessen the penalty and save his hair. "I accurately diagnosed his injuries and used my treasured Eight-Treasures Heart-Protecting Pill to save his life. His wounds were too severe to move far, so I stayed here to care for him. Grand-uncle, I just failed an exam and was feeling down. I went for a walk and happened upon a patient who couldn’t be moved—I wasn’t skipping school!"

Going for a "walk" with luggage and savings after failing an exam, not reporting for days with a Messenger Bird? Did he think his elders were fools?

Confession led to leniency; resistance meant harsher punishment. Lying only made things worse.

From the moment Mr. Yue heard the words "young man," his aura darkened further, seething with barely contained rage.

Clueless, Song Jincheng continued struggling. "Grand-uncle, I was wrong."

Song Qingshi, feeling sorry for his plight, tried to change the subject. "Jincheng, who is this…?"

Song Jincheng finally realized he hadn’t introduced his grand-uncle. He quickly did so, omitting the strange hobby of raising white mice and instead praising his venerable age, kindness, and the reverence he commanded in Medicine King Valley—hoping his grand-uncle might go easy on him for the flattery…

Whether it was modern medical professors or alchemy grandmasters of the cultivation world, they were all figures commanding great respect.

The more Song Qingshi listened, the more reverent he became, assuming the posture of a junior greeting an elder.

Mr. Yue had had enough. "Shut up!" he snapped at Song Jincheng.

If he listened any longer, he might lose control and cut the descendant of Qing Luan he’d promised to look after to pieces, hanging them on Indestructible Peak.

Song Jincheng, unsure what he’d said wrong, shut his mouth, wronged.

Mr. Yue noticed Song Qingshi trying to climb out of bed to bow and, ignoring the fool, swiftly stepped forward to support him, stopping the reckless movement. Taking a deep breath, he softened his voice. "No need for formalities. Let me check your injuries."

Song Qingshi found his voice hypnotic—gentle yet laced with an inexplicable allure that made his pulse quicken. It felt familiar, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t recall where he’d heard it before.

Seeing him dazed, Mr. Yue smiled and used his Divine Sense to examine his body without waiting for permission.

Though he’d prepared himself, the sight of Song Qingshi’s empty dantian—his nascent soul gone, multiple broken bones, and countless wounds—still made his heart ache with unbearable pain. He wished he could find the trash known as the Heavenly Dao and the System and rip them limb from limb.

The only consolation was that Song Qingshi’s body remained the same—his innate talents and twin flames intact. He could use various methods to rebuild his cultivation in the future.

Song Qingshi’s treatment had been meticulous, but lacking proper medicine, his recovery was slow, forcing him to endure extended agony…

Mr. Yue took out a small porcelain vial from his Mustard Seed Bag, poured out a pill, and placed it in Song Qingshi’s mouth. Before he could protest, his tongue brushed against the other’s fingertips. By the time he realized something was off, the pill had already dissolved on his tongue and slid down his throat. It was a Ten-Revolutions Golden Marrow Pill—the finest divine medicine for external injuries, accelerating healing as long as the patient still drew breath.

Though he could refine such pills himself, the main ingredient required the core of a Golden Crow Beast, a rare and ferocious spirit beast extremely difficult to hunt. The refining process was also complex, taking many days.

At auctions, Golden Crow Beast cores sold for over ten thousand spirit stones. The auxiliary materials cost several thousand more. Add in labor costs… So, he’d just swallowed twenty thousand spirit stones to treat injuries that would heal naturally with a few more days of rest?

As his wounds began mending, proving the pill’s authenticity, Song Qingshi realized his debt had just skyrocketed to over twenty thousand. Dumbfounded, he grabbed Mr. Yue’s sleeve, at a loss for words. With such an astronomical sum, he might never repay it even if he sold himself. Hesitantly, he said, "I’m really poor right now… I’ll need time to earn spirit stones slowly…"

Nine-Turn Blood Lotus Pills, Spirit Marrow, and countless other elixirs—which of those wasn’t more precious than this little pill?

Back then, when he’d given everything for him, had he ever hesitated?

"Don’t be afraid. All of this is yours," Mr. Yue said, his heart heavy as he watched Song Qingshi’s fearful expression. This man had once possessed everything, yet he’d given it all away without keeping a single coin for himself… Burying his sorrow, he softened his voice. "Whatever you desire, I’ll give it to you."

A hundredfold, a thousandfold, ten thousandfold.

"You’re so kind to me. Do we know each other?" Song Qingshi again sensed something familiar. He thought this might be the person who’d given him pocket money, but after discussing with Song Jincheng, he ruled out the possibility of him being his father or a relative. Boldly, he ventured a guess, "Are you my godfather?"

Mr. Yue: "???"

Song Jincheng blurted out. "Grand-uncle, he’s your godson?"

Hiding nearby, he’d already sensed something fishy. His grand-uncle, known for his sternness and never showing gentleness, was being unusually gentle with this youth. Combined with the generous gifts of money and medicine… Had his grand-uncle come not to catch him, but to find his lost godson?

If he’d saved his grand-uncle’s godson, maybe his punishment would be lighter. Maybe his hair could be spared?

Song Jincheng felt there was still hope!

Mr. Yue turned and gave him a cold look, quickly grasping the misunderstanding and wanting even more to slaughter this moron. However, Song Qingshi was only at Foundation Establishment now—incapable of managing the vast organization Medicine King Valley had become. Announcing the Medicine King Immortal’s return from seclusion would invite unnecessary danger. It was best to wait until his cultivation returned to the Nascent Soul stage before handing the valley back.

He also didn’t want Song Qingshi remembering anything about Yue Wuhuan. So, he needed another excuse to pamper him with gifts—spirit stones, herbs, treasures… and Indestructible Peak, and himself.

As for the provocative title of "godfather," he only wanted to hear it during certain playful moments, not as some messy familial label…

Fortunately, this was just an avatar, expendable at any time.

Once its purpose was served, he’d find a way to discard it…

Still uncomfortable, but unwilling to discipline the fool in front of Song Qingshi, Mr. Yue pulled on black gloves, grabbed Song Jincheng by the collar, and hurled him out the window. "Go to the eastern market and buy two jin of tiger bone, dan grass, and green spider pills! Then to the western market for three fire talismans! Fetch five jin of Junxin Spring water from Min Mountain! Pick four liang of lotus stamens from Nameless Lake! Now scram!"

Song Jincheng, battered and dusty, scrambled up in confusion. Seeing the late hour, he feared delay would worsen his punishment and dashed off at top speed.

With the chatterbox gone, peace finally returned.

Mr. Yue met Song Qingshi’s worshipful gaze and felt a constricting tightness in his chest—something he hadn’t experienced in millennia. After a moment’s thought, he explained, "No need for formalities. We’re old acquaintances, not elder and junior."

Song Qingshi blinked. "Friends across generations?"

"A… deeper connection," Mr. Yue sighed, deciding the term was better than the alternatives and letting it stand. Then he asked, "Qing Shi, have you lost your memories?"

Song Qingshi grabbed the opportunity. "I think I’ve forgotten many things, including how we met. Can you tell me?"

"I’m afraid not. I’ve been in seclusion at Medicine King Valley for years and don’t know what happened to you. You’ve just taken a Ten-Revolutions Golden Marrow Pill—its effects may cause drowsiness. Rest now," Mr. Yue said regretfully, lighting a Sweet Dream Incense. Casually, he added, "By the way, can you tell me what you’ve forgotten?"

The incense, harmless and calming, carried an added ingredient that muddled Song Qingshi’s thoughts. Drowsy, he slurred out his recent conclusions, omitting only his transmigration and the System.

He spoke for a long time, until his words slurred into incoherence.

In his haze, he faintly heard Mr. Yue’s whisper, soft as a dream: "Do you have a new mission?"

Hypnotized, Song Qingshi answered truthfully. "Yes."

There seemed to be more questions—about the mission? But he himself didn’t understand it and pondered the answer carefully…

Before he could respond, consciousness slipped away, and he fell into deep sleep.

Mr. Yue watched as he fell asleep, then removed the silver mask from his face, revealing his striking beauty. Slowly, he leaned closer, gently tracing the face he'd yearned for endlessly, wanting to cradle it in his arms yet afraid of causing harm. He couldn’t bear to use any drugs or methods that might hurt this person, so he could only attempt a simple, gentle dream hypnosis to uncover fragments of the truth.

Though Song Qingshi was unwilling to reveal the details, it was enough…

This was the answer he had anticipated.

Mr. Yue carefully opened his robe to examine his injuries, only to discover faint, fading love marks on his chest that had not yet fully faded… Song Qingshi’s body showed marks easily when they loved, and he couldn’t resist purposefully marking him to leave imprints that would take days to vanish.

Now, the faint, still-visible marks were in the exact same spots as the night before he had left him.

He hadn’t gone to save someone else, hadn’t fallen for another.

He hadn’t suffered through three millennia of yearning—soon after vanishing, he had returned to this world…

A teardrop fell onto the faint kiss mark.

He couldn't tell if it was happiness or heartache.

He had waited far too long, so long that he no longer knew how to express this complex, overwhelming emotion.

“I hate you,” he murmured, lowering his head to kiss the lips he had missed for so long, savoring their sweetness, repeating over and over, “I hate you, I hate you…”

When he lifted his head again, his face was already streaked with tears.

“But you came back - that's all that matters now.”