Chapter 2: A Miraculous Rescue

Su Ya led Shen Mo through the corridor, and as she pushed open the weathered wooden door, a thick, stale scent of medicinal herbs washed over them. The clinic was dim, and several clerks were busy around the medicine cabinets. When they saw Shen Mo covered in mud, their gazes turned sharp with scrutiny and disdain.

Shen Mo ignored them, his eyes narrowing slightly as he activated his Qi Luck Heavenly Eye. To his sight, the cramped room was no longer just wood and mortar; it was a flowing tapestry of light and shadow. Deep within the medicine cabinets, a faint green glow pulsed—the lingering vitality of the herbs. But around the old diagnostic table in the center of the room, a heavy gray fog hung in the air, with jagged wisps of black energy hungrily devouring the surrounding golden light.

"Master Shen, this way, please." Su Ya lowered her voice, her expression tight as she led him toward the inner room.

Shen Mo stopped in his tracks. Instead of following her inside, he walked straight to the pile of discarded medicinal dregs on the table. As his fingertips brushed them, a bone-chilling cold seeped into his palm. His pupils contracted sharply.

"Shopkeeper Su, this prescription is wrong." Shen Mo’s voice was calm, yet it struck the cramped room like a thunderclap.

Zhao Bo, the head clerk, widened his eyes, his voice shrill. "Master Shen! This is a life-saving prescription personally drafted by Zhang Lao! Who are you to claim that Zhang Lao’s medical expertise is flawed?"

Shen Mo didn't bother to argue. He picked a piece of dried Atractylodes from the pile, rubbing its rough texture between his fingers. "This Atractylodes is three-year-old stock, and it was roasted improperly—the heat didn't penetrate, leaving the harsh, drying properties intact instead of removing them. Combined with an excessive dose of Aconite, this isn't 'restoring the yang'—it’s pouring oil on a fire, forcing the last remnants of the patient's vitality into a corner with no escape."

He casually plucked two unremarkable leaves from the pile and placed them on the table. "Swap these in, remove the Atractylodes, and reduce the Aconite by three qian. This is the 'Hidden Dragon Cold Retaliation Powder.' Only then can you lock down the baleful energy and nourish the spleen and kidneys."

A cold, mocking laugh drifted from the corner. "How arrogant."

A middle-aged man in a cyan robe stepped out of the shadows. He had handsome features, but his expression was one of detached superiority. It was Zhang Lao, the clinic’s star physician and Shen Mo’s former senior brother.

Zhang Lao flicked open a folding fan painted with elegant plum blossoms, glancing at Shen Mo with a sneer. "Shen Mo, you were expelled from the sect three years ago, and you’ve already forgotten the basics of medicinal properties? Zhang Lao is using a secret family formula, and you dare to suggest changes based on some crude, back-alley methods? If something happens to the patient, can you bear the responsibility before the people of this city?"

Zhang Lao relied on his talent to secure his standing in the local medical circle. Seeing his former junior brother—once considered a mediocre talent—trying to lecture him now felt like a personal insult that stoked his jealousy.

Shen Mo looked Zhang Lao straight in the eye, his gaze as calm as an ancient well. "Senior Brother, the way of medicine is about saving lives, not showing off one's status. If your prescription were truly flawless, the cold toxin inside this old farmer wouldn't have spread to his heart meridian. He is currently shrouded in black energy; if you delay any longer, even the gods won't be able to save him."

The room fell silent.

Zhang Lao’s face darkened. He snapped his fan shut, a cold glint flashing in his eyes. "Talk is cheap. Shopkeeper Su, do you want to ruin the century-old reputation of 'Ji Shi Tang,' or would you rather watch the patient die?"

Su Ya stood by the door, her breathing ragged. She looked at Shen Mo’s clear, transparent eyes, then back at Zhang Lao’s aggressive stance. As the owner, she knew Zhang Lao’s reputation well; listening to him might preserve her standing, even if the farmer died. But Shen Mo’s precise, insightful judgment made her hesitation waver.

"I will take the risk." Su Ya took a deep breath, her voice trembling but firm. "Master Shen, please proceed. If anything goes wrong, I will share the fate of Ji Shi Tang; I will not shirk the blame."

Zhang Lao froze for a moment, then let out a cold laugh, certain that Shen Mo would fail.

Shen Mo said nothing more. He took out his silver needles, his wrists flicking with fluid, effortless grace. The needle tips glinted as they precisely pierced the old farmer's acupoints. Simultaneously, he quickly prepared the new concoction. Though Zhao Bo was reluctant, he trembled as he measured out the herbs under Su Ya’s stern command.

A moment later, the medicine was brewed. The black liquid emitted a faint, warm steam. Shen Mo helped the old farmer up and fed it to him, one spoonful at a time.

Time seemed to freeze. Ten breaths, twenty breaths… the old farmer’s face remained gray and lifeless, showing no change.

Zhang Lao scoffed from the side. "I told you this was nonsense. The cold has reached the marrow; how could a few leaves cure it? Shopkeeper Su, there’s still time to regret this..."

Before he could finish, a faint flush of color appeared on the old farmer’s pale cheeks. It wasn't the flush of blood, but the vibrant, tender color of a sprout pushing through melting spring snow.

"Cough… cough, cough…"

The old farmer coughed violently, his breathing gradually stabilizing. The suffocating aura of cold toxin, nourished by the medicine, dissipated like thin smoke.

Shen Mo withdrew the needles, wiped a bead of cold sweat from his fingertip, and his expression softened. "The cold toxin has retreated by seventy percent. The remaining thirty percent must be recovered through his own blood and qi. Remember, no cold or raw food for seven days; he may drink ginger water."

The room erupted in a stir. Zhao Bo’s eyes bulged, his scale nearly slipping from his hand. The clerks crowded around, their eyes filled with shock and awe.

Su Ya let out a long breath, her tense shoulders finally relaxing. She looked at Shen Mo, the cold shell in her eyes shattering, replaced by an indescribable warmth and gratitude.

The sneer on Zhang Lao’s face froze. He stared fixedly at the old farmer’s rosy complexion, jealousy spreading like a wildfire. He couldn't accept that a "waste" he looked down upon had achieved with crude methods what his secret formula couldn't.

"Luck," Zhang Lao spat through gritted teeth. "Just a stroke of luck. If this were a more severe case, your methods would only cost a life."

With that, he flicked his sleeves and turned away, his cyan robes whipping up a cold gust as he disappeared into the end of the corridor without looking back.

Shen Mo didn't chase him, watching the retreating figure quietly. He knew that once jealousy took root in Zhang Lao’s heart, it would grow like weeds; unless he was completely crushed, there would be no peace.

Su Ya walked up to Shen Mo and pressed a banknote into his hand. "This is your fee, and a token of my gratitude. Master Shen, if you ever need anything, the doors of Ji Shi Tang are always open to you."

Shen Mo took the banknote and tucked it away. "A small favor, no need to dwell on it."

Just then, a commotion broke out outside. A luxurious carriage pulled up to the clinic, and the curtain was lifted, revealing a face that was gentle yet carried a hint of arrogance.

"Shopkeeper Su, is my father’s illness cured?"

The voice was clear, like pearls falling on a jade plate.

Su Ya frowned slightly and whispered, "That is the daughter of the Li family, Lin Ruoshui. Her father, Li Fugui, is the largest medicine merchant in the area. If we offend him..."

Shen Mo’s gaze sharpened. Li Fugui—that greedy, cunning, black-hearted merchant. The black jade bead he had crushed in the mist seemed to point in this very direction.

"No," Shen Mo said firmly. "Go out and welcome her. Some things might be resolved by playing along."

Su Ya was startled, then nodded and turned toward the door.

Shen Mo stood in the shadows, closing his eyes as he replayed the scene in his mind. The black energy in the old farmer had dissipated, but deep within, there had been a trace of a faint, metallic sheen that didn't belong to human vitality. That sheen was bone-chillingly cold, like some kind of seal or mark.

Who was behind this? And why target a common farmer?

Li Fugui…

Shen Mo opened his eyes, a cold light flashing in his pupils.

Zhang Lao returned to his office, but instead of seeing patients, he locked the door and slid the bolt shut.

The room was dim. He pulled open a drawer and took out a letter. The paper was old, marked with a complex symbol—the same pattern as the one on the black jade bead.

"Waste…" Zhang Lao muttered to himself, his lips curling into a sinister arc. He recalled Shen Mo’s eyes, which seemed to see through everything, and felt a flicker of unease. Had the junior brother he once trampled underfoot really mastered the "Spring Return Needle"? No, it wasn't just the needle.

If outsiders learned that Shen Mo’s medical skills were advancing so rapidly that he was touching the edges of his family’s secrets, where would he, Zhang Lao, stand among the elite families?

More importantly, that old fox Li Fugui would never let an opportunity like this slip by.

Zhang Lao picked up a brush and scribbled a few lines on the paper, the tip tearing through the parchment with the force of his stroke.

"Shen Mo, since you’ve left the mountain, don't blame your senior brother for having no sentiment. You think you can make a name for yourself in this city with these amateur tricks?"

He sealed the letter and blew the ink dry. Then, he took a black jade plaque from a hidden compartment under his bed. The back was engraved with the characters "Test Poison." It was a tool Li Fugui used to test the loyalty of his servants and frame his enemies.

"Tomorrow is Master Li’s birthday banquet. I’ll make sure you’re the one to 'offer the toast,'" Zhang Lao chuckled, hiding the plaque in his sleeve, his eyes gleaming with cruelty.

He knew Li Fugui hated nothing more than someone showing off "miracle cures" in front of him. The faster news of Shen Mo’s success spread, the more dangerous he became. Once Shen Mo’s true colors were exposed as an "accident" at the banquet, or he was framed as a "poisoner," he would never be able to recover.

The mastermind could be Li Fugui, or it could be Zhang Lao. Ideally, it would be both.

Zhang Lao straightened his robes and opened the door, his face returning to its usual gentle, jade-like composure. In the corridor, the servants were whispering, but they fell silent and bowed their heads as he passed, their fear of him even greater than before.

"Zhang Lao, Master Shen, he…" a servant started, then hesitated.

"Hush," Zhang Lao raised a hand to stop him, his voice soft. "Some things are better left unsaid. Junior Brother Shen has been expelled from the sect for a long time; he is nothing more than a traveling doctor now. If anyone dares to ask about him again, don't blame me for forgetting our shared history."

He strode away, his heels clicking crisply and firmly against the floor.

As night deepened, a black carriage drove silently down the street outside the clinic. Inside, Li Fugui toyed with a jade thumb ring, gazing at the brightly lit Ji Shi Tang with eyes as deep as a pool.

"Find out what Shen Mo has been up to lately."

His voice was raspy, carrying an unquestionable authority.

Meanwhile, in the clinic’s backyard, Shen Mo stood under the eaves, gazing at the starry sky. The wind tugged at his robes, bringing a faint chill. He closed his eyes, his Qi Luck Heavenly Eye quietly activating. His vision pierced through the layers of roof tiles, landing on the carriage pulling away across the street.

Inside the carriage, a faint, dark-gray aura pulsed. It was the same source as the black energy in the old farmer, but thicker and more decayed, like a snake shedding its skin, waiting for the right moment to strike.

Shen Mo felt a shift in his heart, a strange premonition rising within him.

This seemingly peaceful act of saving a life was, in reality, the beginning of a carefully laid trap.

And the prey had already entered the web.