A master of both medicine and martial arts, he picked up a beautiful CEO as his wife.

The furnace of pills behind the medicine hut was lit by Ji Qingyao herself.

The moment the stove lid was lifted, a thick plume of golden-red smoke shot into the sky. But as soon as it dissipated, the dozen or so figures weaving through the inner courtyard froze simultaneously.

They weren't stopped. They were "locked up"—the dozen or so people seemed to be suspended by an invisible thread, their movements frozen in mid-air, their eyes still rolling, but their limbs unable to move an inch.

"The master's drug-controlled assassins." Han Jiuhe leaned against the door frame, panting. "Using living people as sheaths, keeping the deadly within their bones... What ruthless methods."

"Can you solve it?" Lin Yuqing stood by the stove, her face pale, but her hands were very steady.

"It can't be solved." The old man shook his head. "These people are no longer human."

Lin Yuqing didn't ask any more questions. She simply pulled a handkerchief from her sleeve, walked over, and squatted down next to the person closest to them.

He was a very young man, in his early twenties, his eyes still moving, the whites of his eyes bloodshot. She covered his face with a handkerchief.

"What are you doing?" one of Ji Qingyao's junior sisters exclaimed in surprise.

"The golden smoke has dissipated, but they can still hear it." Lin Yuqing stood up, her voice soft. "I don't know how much humanity they have left. If there's even a little—at least don't let them keep watching this with their eyes open."

At the entrance of the medicine shop, Han Jiuhe's one eye lingered on her for a long time.

"You little girl," the old man murmured, "you have a pure heart. What a pity."

"What's a pity?"

The old man didn't answer. He leaned against the door frame, gazing in the direction of the mountain gate, and his one clear eye gradually dimmed.

"Unfortunately, what they wanted," he said very softly, "was just this clean blood."

The commotion in the inner courtyard reached the mountain gate. For the first time, the Third Master stopped moving. He turned his head and "looked" towards the inner courtyard.

With just one glance—Ye Feng moved. He didn't attack the Third Master. He reached out, grabbed the broken half of the stone pillar on the ground, swung it violently, and smashed it into the withering medicinal herb field on the north slope.

The stone pillar sank into the ground. A plume of steam shot skyward with a "whoosh." The Dark Spring. The spring Zhao Hui had mentioned.

The entire north slope was like a pot of boiling water poured with cold water; white mist surged and blotted out the sky. At the moment when the mist was at its thickest, Ye Feng heard someone calling him.

"Feng'er".

It was his master's voice, just three steps to his left. Ye Feng took two steps in that direction before abruptly stopping. He bit his tongue.

There was nothing in the fog. For the first time, the bluish-gray "condensed body" on the Third Master's body began to dissipate in the misty air.

"Deadly creatures fear living water." Ye Feng's voice came from the mist. "You've been cutting off the source of this spring for three months, letting the deathly aura flow down. You thought this was a knife. Let me tell you, this is my medicinal ingredient."

From within the fog, a figure burst forth. Ye Feng, enveloped in a vortex of yin and yang energy that was both bright and dim, crashed straight into him from twenty feet away.

This time, he knocked down one of the remaining two squares.

"boom--!"

That sound shook half the mountain. When the fog lifted, the Third Master was kneeling on the ground.

His bluish-gray body had a deep gash running from his chest to his shoulder. There was no blood inside, only wisps of black smoke escaping outwards.

Ye Feng stood three steps away from him. Just standing there. Only when Shen Yu rushed up to help him did he realize that this man couldn't even lift a single finger.

"The account..." Ye Feng's lips moved, his voice so low that only Shen Yu could hear it, "There's one bar left."

Shen Yu trembled. The Third Master raised his head. His face remained expressionless. He stared at Ye Feng for a long time before suddenly speaking:

"I can't take her with me today. The boss will come in person."

Ye Feng, panting, said, "Then I'll wait."

"You won't live to see that," the Third Master said. "Your body can only withstand three more burns at most."

He braced himself against the ground, slowly stood up, and turned to leave. After taking two steps, he stopped again.

"Ye Feng".

"explain."

"You've always thought that what your employer wants is your life."

The third gentleman turned around. For the first time, a hint of pity appeared in his eyes.

"Wrong."

"The boss never cares whether you live or die."

"What the master wants," he said, emphasizing each word, "is her bloodline, and that thing your master hid."

Ye Feng's heart skipped a beat.

"What did you say?"

"That half of the jade slip," the Third Master said, "was never the point. Your master took something else from Nirvana Mountain twenty years ago. The master has been searching for it for twenty years. He can't find it."

He turned around and walked step by step into the withered medicinal herb field. When he reached the end of the field, he said one last thing.

Those words, spoken across an entire hillside, reached everyone's ears clearly:

"Your master is not missing."

"He's hiding."

"He took that thing and went into hiding."

The figure in black robes disappeared into the night at the edge of the medicinal field. Zhao Hui was the last to leave. He emerged from the shadows of the archway, passed by Ye Feng, and paused for a moment.

"Dr. Ye." He straightened his rumpled suit, his gentle smile returning to his face. "You've won tonight's match."

"I know."

"But you only have one bar left." Zhao Hui's smile deepened. "You can calculate everything so clearly, so you should understand—if you burn bar by bar, in the end, it won't be us who can't protect her. It will be yourself."

Ye Feng didn't look at him.

"Zhao Hui".

"exist."

"That thin strand on your wrist," Ye Feng said calmly, "is so faint that you can't suppress it for much longer. You've been investigating her pulse for twenty years. Have you ever taken your own pulse even once?"

Zhao Hui's smile froze. He stood there for a long time, briefcase in hand, then turned and walked into the withered medicinal herb field without a word.

Below the mountain gate, only the sound of the wind remained. Ye Feng stood motionless, his mind racing, only one sentence echoing in his ears.

—If my disciple ever comes looking for me, please tell him for me: I didn’t dare leave my other half in anyone’s hands.

—I returned it. Returned it. Returned it to where?

"Ye Feng".

A hand grasped his from behind. It was Lin Yuqing. She had run all the way from the inner courtyard, her hair disheveled, and one of her shoes missing.

Ye Feng gripped her hand tightly and closed his eyes. That ledger had only one page left. Just one. From now on, he couldn't afford to fight even a single fierce battle.

"Go back to the mountain," he said in a hoarse voice.

"Which mountain are we going back to?" Shen Yu asked.

Ye Feng opened his eyes and looked north.

"Nirvana Mountain," he said. "There can only be one place where Master returned the item. He took it from that mountain. So he must have taken it back to that mountain."

Footsteps sounded behind him. Han Jiuhe walked over, leaning on his hoe, his one eye fixed on the night at the end of the medicinal field.

"Thirty-four years ago, during that plague, your master and I brewed medicine for forty days," the old man said. "We could save people. As for the plague itself, we couldn't even touch it."

"For the first time today, I saw someone hit it and make it shrink back."

"We've taken a step back," Ye Feng said.

"That's enough," the old man said. "I've waited thirty-four years for this."