Chapter 14: The Rebirth of Hua Tuo

Xue Xiangzhu was skilled and daring. After fleeing beyond the city walls, he did not go far but instead returned to the very spot where he had fought Qu Yang, meticulously searching the area.

Soon enough, he found the antidote.

“Hahaha, Buddha bless me—this truly is a blessing,” Xue Xiangzhu exclaimed, lifting the antidote and letting out a long sigh toward the heavens.

Once, he had been a formidable hero in the martial world, aspiring to uphold justice and carve out a legendary legacy. He had always been proactive, loyal, and courageous, steadily accumulating merit over more than a decade until he rose to the position of incense master.

Yet, on his very first day in office, he was cursed by Yang Lianting, the chief steward of Blackwood Cliff, who administered the Three Corpses Brain Pill.

After ingesting the pill, Xue Xiangzhu was bound to obey Yang Lianting’s every command. Should he resist, the parasitic insects concealed within the pill would awaken, burrow into his brain, gnaw at his marrow, inflicting unbearable agony and driving him mad—far worse than a rabid dog.

In recent years, every Dragon Boat Festival, he had to grovel before Yang Lianting, bearing endless humiliation and hardship to secure the antidote. It was a bitter ordeal that brought tears to his eyes.

Now, possessing an additional antidote meant that even if he angered Yang Lianting in the future, he would at least have a year’s reprieve to arrange his affairs calmly.

However, this also meant that Elder Qu Yang would inevitably succumb to madness and death.

At this thought, Xue Xiangzhu felt a pang of sorrow, a profound sympathy for a kindred soul suffering the same affliction.

He planned to wait a few days until the commotion in Beiping City subsided before collecting Qu Yang’s remains—a task that would indirectly fulfill the assignment Yang Lianting had laid upon him and allow him to report back to Blackwood Cliff.

As for Qu Feiyan, who was said to be close to the Sacred Maiden, he considered capturing her and handing her over to the Sacred Maiden. Though he had driven Qu Yang to his death, it was at the behest of Yang Lianting, so the blame would not fall squarely on him.

He would give Qu Yang a proper burial and treat the granddaughter kindly, thereby redeeming himself and earning some goodwill, hoping to prevent the Sacred Maiden from bearing a grudge over Qu Yang’s demise.

Within the Sun and Moon Sect, factions abounded, each harboring their own ambitions. Caught between the steward faction led by Yang Lianting and the Sacred Maiden’s faction, Xue Xiangzhu lived a life of constant caution and peril.

For several days, he hid in the eastern outskirts of the city at the Zitan Fort, a sect safehouse in Shuntian Prefecture—a place for rest and concealment.

He indulged himself with food, drink, and leisure, enjoying the full spectrum of services, living in a carefree manner.

Yet, the Purple-Robed Envoy sent from Blackwood Cliff to supervise him was displeased, accusing him of negligence and ineffectiveness, which deeply angered Xue Xiangzhu.

A few days later, urged by the envoy, Xue Xiangzhu disguised himself as a rustic country bumpkin and stationed himself outside a small roadside inn near Chaoyang Gate. He began asking passersby about news within the city, especially around Ningrong Street, inquiring whether any shocking or tragic events had occurred.

“Ningrong Street is quite something,” one local said. “At one end stands the Ning Residence; at the other, the Rong Residence. The two estates connect and occupy half the street. Guards stand vigilant at the gates, and beyond the walls lie grand halls and pavilions, magnificent and imposing. The gardens are lush with trees and rocks. Truly a household of wealth and culture, a family of scholars and poets, their prosperity unlike any other.”

“As for the Rong Residence, there was a curious incident years ago. The second madam gave birth to a baby boy who was born clutching a radiant, multicolored jade. Strangely, eight characters were etched upon it: ‘Never lose, never forget; immortal longevity and eternal prosperity.’ Quite a remarkable tale, wouldn’t you say?”

“Speaking of Jia Baoyu, there are many wild rumors about him. He once said, ‘Daughters are made of water, sons of mud. Seeing a girl refreshes me; seeing a man, I feel disgusted.’ Funny, isn’t it? That fellow will surely become a rake.”

Xue Xiangzhu bought several rounds of fine wine, but all the gossip he uncovered amounted to trivial, outdated tales.

People said no heinous incidents had recently occurred near Ningrong Street. However, a few days ago near Desheng Gate, martial experts had climbed the walls, stirring up the Jin Yi Bureau. Captain Feng Tang of the bureau had launched a massive manhunt around Desheng Gate but came up empty-handed.

Xue Xiangzhu thought to himself, “If Feng Tang were to catch me, then I would have truly been careless. But I slipped away to the Zitan Fort in the eastern suburbs long ago; there’s no way I’d remain here to be captured.”

By now, Xue Xiangzhu was fairly certain Qu Yang had been killed, perhaps by his granddaughter or by the owner of the Zhen You Wei fast food shop. It was said that this Wu Dongjia, now a commander in the Divine Machine Battalion, could handle the matter without much difficulty.

Finding no useful news, Xue Xiangzhu ventured quietly into Beiping City. Though Qu Yang was likely dead, he needed to see his corpse or ashes before taking further steps.

Ningrong Street remained bustling with carts and pedestrians.

Taking advantage of the crowds, he hid among flowers and shrubs by a wall, waiting until nightfall and the city’s curfew before approaching the Zhen You Wei fast food shop. Using lightness skills, he leapt onto the rooftops to scout the courtyard’s interior.

“This is… quite the sight,” he muttered, peering into the kitchen of the inner courtyard. A young maid was holding the chef’s arm affectionately, their faces close in intimate conversation.

The chef’s expression was a mix of excitement and hesitation—clearly, he did not truly desire her but was tempted to indulge in a brief affair.

“Forced fruit never tastes sweet. That maid will suffer for this,” Xue Xiangzhu thought.

Yet, his purpose was to learn about Qu Yang and Qu Feiyan’s condition, not to meddle in the staff’s affairs.

He moved along the rooftop, then lightly dropped into the courtyard.

“Hark! Voices in the east wing—could that be Qu Feiyan’s voice?” Xue Xiangzhu’s heart leapt.

Believing Qu Yang to be dead and confident no one else’s martial arts could match his own, he approached briskly and poked a small hole in the window paper to peer inside.

What he saw nearly shattered his soul, and he almost shouted, “Are you a man or a ghost?”

Though grievously wounded and resting in bed, Qu Yang’s vigilance as a top martial artist had not faded. He sensed something amiss the moment Xue Xiangzhu dropped from the roof.

Through the hole, Qu Yang’s fierce, hawk-like gaze met his.

“Don’t worry, I’m not dead yet!” Qu Yang said. “If you have the courage, come in and talk.”

“Hmph, what do I fear?” Xue Xiangzhu forced himself calm.

Logically, since Qu Yang was alive and they were enemies, he had no reason to risk entering.

Yet, knowing Qu Yang had survived without the antidote—a staggering fact—he had to clarify the truth before deciding on his next move.

Fortunately, only Qu Feiyan stood nearby, attending to him, so Qu Yang was unlikely to launch a surprise attack.

“You truly haven’t taken the antidote?” Xue Xiangzhu asked.

He knew well the ruthless methods the sect’s leaders used to control their subordinates. Missing the antidote’s timing meant excruciating pain and madness from the brain parasites. Yet Qu Yang’s complexion was pale but his breath even, showing no signs of torment.

How could this be?

Qu Yang, suppressing the pain, twisted his mouth and lifted the thin blue cloth covering him. Beneath his clothing was a two-finger-wide scar running from his ribs to his abdomen, the stitches still fresh—like a grotesque centipede crawling on his skin.

“This…” Xue Xiangzhu guessed at a possibility but could hardly believe it, dumbfounded and speechless.

It was said that opening the abdomen and treating such wounds was the legendary feat of the divine healer Hua Tuo over a thousand years ago.

Among the sect’s leaders, some victims of the Three Corpses Brain Pill had attempted self-surgery to remove the parasites but failed due to difficulties in sterilization and bleeding control.

If this news spread, it would cause uproar on Blackwood Cliff, rivaling even the disappearance of the former sect leader.

“See for yourself,” Qu Yang’s hoarse voice said. “I never expected the owner of this fast food shop to be a master healer. Wu Dongjia sliced open my belly and, as the parasites were crawling up, pulled them out alive. Then he stitched me up and applied an herbal salve to stop the bleeding.”

“Truly open the abdomen?” Xue Xiangzhu stepped back in shock, his mouth forming an ‘O’. “Only Hua Tuo reincarnated could achieve such a feat!”

He wanted to scold Qu Yang for lying but felt the antidote in his pocket and hesitated—if Qu Yang had taken it, he wouldn’t have been so candid.

Cold sweat trickled down Xue Xiangzhu’s spine as his breathing quickened.

He now faced a dilemma.

If he fled and reported this secret to Blackwood Cliff, he would earn great merit, possibly rising from incense master to hall master or even elder.

But the journey from the capital to Blackwood Cliff was long, taking over ten days round trip.

During that time, Qu Yang and Wu Dongjia could hide in the vast city without evidence, and if Xue Xiangzhu falsely reported the situation, Yang Lianting would punish him severely.

The risk was too great and it went against martial brotherhood—Qu Yang had been honest with him, not a man to betray lightly.

Besides, all these years serving Yang Lianting was for the antidote. If there was a permanent cure for the parasite, why endure such humiliation?

“Wu Dongjia said the method isn’t guaranteed,” Qu Yang shifted topics, eyes scanning Xue Xiangzhu’s clenched hand holding the antidote. “But we martial artists have strong constitutions. The success rate is about seventy percent. If you ever fall out with Blackwood Cliff and can’t get the antidote, come to Beiping and find Wu Dongjia. We can discuss it.”

Xue Xiangzhu’s throat tightened; words stuck in his mouth.

He feared not the danger of surgery but the exorbitant price Wu Dongjia might demand—after all, even the mediocre physician Ping Yizhi was notorious for trickery, claiming to save one and kill another, leaving patients confused and helpless.

A healer capable of curing the Three Corpses Brain Pill would surely ask for a steep price, one Xue Xiangzhu might not afford.

Seeing his hesitation, Qu Yang said bluntly, “Don’t worry, Wu Dongjia isn’t greedy. He only wants a unique skill to survive in this chaotic world. I plan to teach him the Needle Technique of Black Blood Divine Needle as thanks for saving my life. If you’re willing, you could also show your true skills and secure a reliable fallback.”

Xue Xiangzhu gazed at Qu Yang’s scar and then the antidote in his pocket. The oppressive power of Blackwood Cliff, Yang Lianting’s harassment, the agonizing parasite—all these thoughts surged, nearly suffocating him.

Yet after a brief moment, he made up his mind. “Agreed.”

With consensus reached, the next challenge was building trust.

Wu Tiande’s secret of breaking the Three Corpses Brain Pill was a tightly guarded secret. If exposed, it would draw the sect’s top fighters’ attention, leaving no safe haven for him in the world.

Thus, Xue Xiangzhu did not fear Wu Tiande would betray them.

The real question was whether Xue Xiangzhu could offer sufficient collateral to earn trust.

He pondered and said, “I can teach Wu Dongjia my Iron Cloth and Golden Bell Shield techniques. Though only a surface understanding can be gained quickly; mastery requires decades of practice and results are slow. However, I can send my wife, children, and the second branch of the Xue family in Jinling to the capital as hostages. Under your watch, that will guarantee I won’t betray this secret.”

“You hide your family well. How come even I never heard of your wife and children?” Qu Yang said in surprise.

He quickly understood and sighed softly: “Makes sense. If I were as clever as you, I wouldn’t be left with only Qu Feiyan as my sole granddaughter alive.”

The pact forged, the path ahead was fraught but illuminated by newfound hope.