"Hmm?" Xue Ziye frowned, clearly annoyed that her train of thought had been interrupted. "What?"
"Please take care of yourself and do what you can." The old maid bowed deeply to her, her voice filled with a sigh. "You are not a god, and it is understandable that you cannot do many things—please do not be like Patriarch Linxia."
Patriarch of Linxia… Xue Ziye was startled and stopped thinking.
Legend has it that twenty years ago, Tang Linxia, the Valley Master of Medicine Master Valley and the mentor of her master Liao Qingran, died of vomiting blood in this library at the young age of thirty-one. Even in death, she was still holding a copy of "The Ode to the Properties of Medicines" in her hand, still pondering the antidote for the Seven Star Begonia poison.
"You should learn from Master Qingran," the old maid said finally, closing the door behind her. "She is very happy now."
The door closed, but Xue Ziye still stared in the direction of that retreating figure, momentarily lost in thought. This old maid had served three generations of valley masters and knew many past events and secrets, hence her advice. But how could she possibly understand the helplessness and frustration a healer felt when watching a patient walk towards death?
She slumped down in the pavilion, staring blankly at her pale, slender hands.
The pair of eyes in the darkness opened the instant the door closed.
Just moments before, Tong was still struggling in a coma. When she opened her eyes, they were surprisingly bright. She stared silently in the direction Xue Ziye had left, and countless complex emotions flashed through her eyes in an instant: suspicion, vigilance, murderous intent, and... bewilderment.
In fact, when his wounds healed three days ago, he was already able to regain consciousness, but he did not let the people around him notice—he pretended to be asleep and to have repeated episodes in order to lower their guard.
He secretly observed the female healer's expression, wanting to know why she saved him, and also to ascertain his current situation and what actions he should take—he was a top assassin from the Great Bright Palace's Shura Field, capable of calmly observing and planning in any desperate situation.
However, as he rolled around on the couch, hissing, her eyes were filled with concern and anxiety.
As he clutched his head and screamed in agony, her hand holding his shoulder was cold and trembling.
Even when he pretended to fall asleep and occasionally uttered a murmur in his sleep to test her, she leaned down to look at him, tears silently falling onto his face...
This woman... this woman... what is it that she did this for?
Could it really be as she said... that he was someone she knew from the past? Was he her younger brother?
A village with snow falling, dark houses, a boy named Xuehuai and a girl named Xiaoye... Could it be that I've fallen for their tricks and am having these hallucinations?
He clutched his head in pain, feeling a dull ache between his eyebrows that seemed to radiate deep into his brain.
He knew that it was the golden needle the Pope had driven into the top of his head.
A symbol of being controlled and enslaved.
He lay in the darkness for an unknown amount of time, feeling the light outside the curtains dim and brighten before the pain in his head gradually subsided. He reached out and carefully touched the Baihui acupoint on the top of his head. The excruciating pain immediately left his mind blank.
From the time he could remember, these golden needles had sealed his fate, leading him to roam the Western Regions for the King, taking the heads of every noble from various countries.
The king sat kindly on his jade throne and said to him, "Tong, for your own good, I have erased the painful part of you... You are a child abandoned by everyone, those memories are meaningless to you, so it is better to forget them."
"If we could skip the painful part of life, it would actually be a good thing..."
Surrounded by the three holy maidens and five bright children, the Pope on the jade throne had unfathomable eyes. He smiled and placed his hand on the head of his beloved general kneeling below the throne, gently stroking it as if caressing his most cherished snow-capped grey mastiff. He also knew that if the Pope was displeased, he could take his life at any time, just as he had killed those mastiffs.
Damn it! Damn it! He smashed the medicine pillow to pieces with his fist, his eyes turning a deep, shimmering blue—this woman was exactly like the Pope! They were both trying to alter his memories so that he would submit to their commands!
He was trembling all over in the darkness.
He hated those who manipulated his fate and memories. These people trampled on his life, robbed him of everything, and then put on airs as saviors, feigning concern for him!
"Crack—" As he punched the medicine pillow to pieces, a dark figure cried out in surprise and fluttered away through the curtains.
What was that? He was startled, then suddenly recognized it: It was that bird! It was the snow hawk that had viciously pecked him during his duel with the Seventh Young Master of Dingjian Pavilion!
—So, does that mean Huo Zhanbai is also in this Medicine Master Valley?
Tong sat up abruptly in the darkness, her eyes flashing with a wild, beast-like light: This is bad!
He silently leaped off the bed and began searching the ward. Without drawing the curtains or lighting a lamp, he moved with the agility of a leopard in the darkness, finding his sword on a rosewood shelf behind the screen in less than fifteen minutes. The sword, named Bloodstained, had slain countless lords and heroes, its faint, blood-red glow shimmering in the darkness.
The moment he got his hands on the sword, his mind settled down a bit – for someone like him, the only thing he truly trusted was the sword.
He continued searching rapidly, and finally found the clothes he had been wearing. A smile involuntarily appeared on his lips. That Heavenly Silkworm Robe was made with ice silkworm silk from the Kunlun Snow Region, making it impervious to ordinary swords and blades. It was clothing specially provided by the sect to elite assassins of the Light Realm.
He pulled off the dense bandages covering his body and was about to change into the clothes when he suddenly froze.
—The wounds left during her fierce battle with Huo Zhanbai had all been carefully stitched up. Was it her?
In that instant, his head started throbbing again. He couldn't bear it any longer and bent over, clutching his head, and felt an urge to scream.
Why...why? Why is all this happening? What is that female doctor's purpose in targeting him? He no longer believes in anything, yet she insists on forcibly cramming those things into his mind!
He was breathing heavily in the darkness when his fingers suddenly touched something cold.
He picked up the white jade mask, panting, and tremblingly covered his face with it—the cold jade pressed against his skin, and hidden beneath the mask, his trembling finally subsided.
He gripped his sword tightly, and a dangerous purple glint flashed in his eyes behind the mask.
No matter what, we must get the Dragon Blood Pearl out of here! Huo Zhanbai is still in this valley, and he could be in danger at any moment!
He frantically searched the room, leaving no inch unchecked, but found nothing. Damn it… where did that woman put the Dragon Blood Pearl? Did she hide it in some other secret place?
He hesitated for a moment, then finally gripped his sword and walked out of the Autumn Pavilion where he had been lying for many days.
Huo Zhanbai stood under the plum tree, his eyes fixed on his nose, his mind at peace, the Ink Soul Sword in his hand gleaming like a clear sea. He silently recalled the fierce battle in the fir forest that day, how the last sword pierced his ribs, slowly replaying that extremely dangerous scene.
What a poisonous sword! That's practically a self-sacrificing sword technique, extremely rare in the Central Plains.
He recalled the duel in the snow that day, his sword swift as the wind, thrusting out one strike after another, as if trying to block every attack of his imaginary opponent: the moon shines on the vast expanse, the wind blows across the wilderness, cutting through gold and jade... With a "whoosh," he stopped after thrusting the sword straight at his chest.
Huo Zhanbai stood beneath the plum tree, sword in hand, petals falling like snow, covering him as he silently pondered, shaking his head. No, it still wouldn't work… Even if he switched to the "King's Arrival from the East" move, he still couldn't stop his opponent's final, self-sacrificing sword strike!
Even he was afraid of such a terrifying person.