Volume One, Chapter 13: Who Stole My Clothes?!

As Su Qingxue’s carriage, carrying the false news of “the Eighth Prince is dead,” melded once more into the night and sped toward an unknown destination, Ye Xuan had already arrived outside the bustling city known as Yun’an.

The towering city walls stood majestic and imposing.

At the city gates, a steady stream of carriages and horses flowed, voices rose in a clamorous yet peaceful scene of prosperity.

This sight starkly contrasted with the battlefield strewn with corpses just dozens of miles away, a realm of carnage and chaos.

Having changed into the black garb and boots befitting an assassin leader, Ye Xuan deliberately rolled in the dirt several times, covering himself in dust and grime, then smeared his face with potash ash to appear as a common traveler worn by years on the road.

The noble bearing of a prince was thoroughly concealed beneath this disheveled guise.

He observed quietly for a moment before fixing his attention on a merchant caravan preparing to enter the city.

He did not approach rashly but trailed the caravan from a careful distance, using the tall figures of others as cover like a seasoned hunter.

At the moment the city guards became distracted checking documents, focusing on the caravan’s steward, Ye Xuan slipped in like a ghost, stepping lightly without stirring a breath of dust, blending seamlessly among the laborers unloading goods.

With the flow of people, he naturally crossed into Yun’an City without drawing any notice.

The entire process was fluid and effortless.

For a top-tier strategist, calculating the blind spots in human attention and exploiting lapses was an instinct etched deep in his bones.

Now free from the escort of the Imperial Guards, he was truly a fugitive.

If his identity as the Eighth Prince were exposed, he would face relentless pursuit akin to a net tightening from all sides.

Therefore, he needed a new identity—one that would allow him to stand openly and securely in this unfamiliar city.

And the foundation of all this was money.

Ye Xuan touched the hard lump wrapped in black cloth in his bosom, the meager spoils taken from a group of impoverished assassins—just a few ounces of silver, not enough for a proper meal.

He had to find a way to make money quickly.

Wandering aimlessly along the broad cobblestone street, his mind raced, evaluating every possibility.

Trading? No capital, and the cycle too long.

Selling martial skills? In a land swarming with the powerful, that would be showing off before masters.

Just then, a loud and urgent clang of a copper gong rang out from the far end of the long street, accompanied by hoarse, desperate shouting that shattered the market’s hum.

“Ding! Ding! Ding!”

“South City, Liu Estate! Offering a heavy reward for a doctor!”

“Our young lady has suddenly fallen ill, her life hanging by a thread! Any divine healer in the city who can save her will be rewarded with a thousand taels of silver and a hundred acres of fertile land!”

Several men dressed as family retainers beat the gong and shouted at the top of their lungs, their expressions filled with anxiety as if the sky were falling.

The crowd on the street was instantly drawn, murmurs spreading.

“Again the Liu family? Hasn’t Miss Liu’s illness dragged on for years?”

“Indeed, I’ve heard every doctor in the city has seen her and all have shaken their heads—said it’s incurable.”

“A thousand taels of silver and a hundred acres of land! Such generosity... but alas, none have the skill to claim it.”

Hearing the murmurs, Ye Xuan halted.

A subtle gleam flashed in his dark eyes.

Divine-level medical skill!

Those four words flashed through his mind like a beacon.

This was an opportunity tailor-made for him!

It could solve his immediate financial crisis and grant him a legitimate cover as a “renowned doctor.”

Perfect!

Ye Xuan made a swift decision.

He glanced down at his tattered, filthy black clothes and furrowed his brow slightly.

In this shabby guise, not only would he fail to pass as a famous doctor, even begging outside the Liu Estate would earn him a beating from the retainers.

He needed proper attire.

His gaze swept around and soon fixed on a stately mansion.

A vermilion gate stood tall behind high walls.

He circled to the quiet back alley of the mansion, observing carefully to confirm no one was nearby and no sentries were posted.

Then, with a light tap of his toes at the wall’s base, he slipped inside silently like a weightless leaf falling.

Within the courtyard, several pieces of clothing fluttered in the breeze.

Ye Xuan’s sharp eyes immediately singled out a finely crafted moon-white brocade robe that appeared to be his size.

Without hesitation, he took the robe and slipped out again, the entire act taking less than ten breaths.

Moments later, a furious roar echoed from inside the courtyard.

“Who the hell stole my grandpa’s robe? Is there no law? No sense of decency?”

Ye Xuan ignored the outburst in the alley, already changed into the moon-white brocade.

He casually discarded the ragged black clothes.

Wearing the brocade and paired with his youthful yet sharply defined handsome features, an extraordinary and refined aura emanated from him.

The disheveled fugitive was instantly transformed into a graceful scion of a noble family.

He tidied his attire and strode with calm confidence straight toward the Liu Estate in the southern part of the city.

At the Liu Estate’s gate, a crowd had already gathered.

Two retainers anxiously guarded the entrance, blocking onlookers eager to witness the commotion.

Ye Xuan approached leisurely and spoke calmly to one of the gatekeepers.

“I am a wandering physician. I heard your young lady is gravely ill, and I’ve come to have a try.”

The gatekeeper sized him up with suspicion.

Too young.

This boy looked no more than sixteen or seventeen, barely past the age of shaving, and dared to call himself a physician?

Probably a fraud seeking free food and lodging.

But thinking of the young lady lying weakly inside, her breath faltering, with even the city’s most famous old doctors helpless, the gatekeeper’s doubt turned to a desperate hope.

What if?

What if this boy truly possessed some secret miraculous skill?

“Please, young master... come with me.”

The gatekeeper dared not delay and respectfully led Ye Xuan inside.

They passed through several courtyards before reaching a grand hall.

By now, two or three dozen people had gathered there.

All were over fifty, sporting goatees and exuding solemn maturity—clearly the city’s most prominent doctors.

Ye Xuan’s arrival was like a stone dropping into a still lake, immediately attracting everyone’s attention.

“Who is this young man? Why does the Liu family let just anyone in?” an elder stroked his beard and frowned in displeasure.

“He looks so young, probably can’t even identify herbs, and dares to come meddling at the Liu Estate?” another sneered.

“Shh, be quiet. He may be a disciple of some divine healer, here to learn,” whispered another.

Amid the murmurs, a venerable doctor sighed deeply and said to those nearby, “Miss Liu’s illness is ‘Cold Marrow Syndrome,’ contracted in the womb. It flares up on damp, rainy days with unbearable pain. It worsens year by year and is now terminal. Medicine is powerless; the cold is eroding her vital organs. Even immortals cannot save her.”

“Yes, Master Wang said the same. The Liu family is desperate, beating gongs and drums across the city merely for peace of mind.”

“We’ve practiced medicine for decades but never seen such a relentless chill disease. Human skill has limits. It seems Miss Liu’s fate is sealed; all we can do is do our best and leave the rest to heaven.”

Every word of this so-called expert’s conversation reached Ye Xuan’s ears.

He stood quietly in a corner, calm on the outside but fully understanding within.

Cold Marrow Syndrome?

To ordinary doctors, perhaps incurable.

But before his divine-level medical skill, it was a mere trifle.

This desperate, hopeless scenario was exactly what he needed.

Only by appearing in such despair could this “divine doctor” of his make a stunning debut and gain the greatest acclaim.

Ye Xuan’s gaze passed through the crowd, settling on the depths of the hall.

Faintly, agonized groans could be heard, barely suppressed, alongside the anxious pacing of a middle-aged man.