Mastering the Sword Manual, sweeping across the globe

In the northern part of Province X, deep in the mountains, where no humans have been seen for at least a decade.

The morning sunlight filtered through the leaves, scattering a shimmering golden light across the lake.

A natural barrier lake lies quietly nestled among cliffs. The lake water is emerald green, and you can see the stones and aquatic plants in the shallow water near the shore. A few unidentified insects glide across the surface, creating delicate ripples.

Zhang Qiliang found a flat rock by the lake, sat down, raised his right hand, and beckoned with his finger.

Before Xiao Bin could even see what was happening, a straight, thin bamboo stalk flew over from a dozen meters away and landed steadily in Zhang Qiliang's hand.

The cross-section is smooth, and the branches and leaves are neat, as if they had been measured and carefully cut with a ruler.

Zhang Qiliang's fingers gently brushed across the bamboo branches again, and the excess branches broke off cleanly and fell to the ground.

Looking around, Zhang Qiliang made a grasping motion towards the vines by the lake. Several old vines snapped in response, flew up from the grass, twisted together in mid-air, and when they landed in his palm, they had become a symmetrical and sturdy fishing line.

Xiao Bin stared wide-eyed with his mouth agape.

Zhang Qiliang pulled a pre-bent fishhook from his pocket, tied it to one end of a vine line, picked up a small piece of wood from beside him, pinched and rubbed it between his fingers, and sawdust fell down, turning into a light float in a few seconds.

After fastening the device, Zhang Qiliang stood up, took a few steps, and gently stomped his feet on the damp mud on the bank. The next moment, the mud turned over, and several plump earthworms crawled out of the soil, wriggled on the rocks, and quietly lined up in a row.

Xiao Bin squatted down beside him, his mouth never closing.

When Zhang Qiliang handed him the finished fishing rod, he seemed to wake up from a dream, took it with both hands, and carefully cast it into the water.

The float touched the surface of the water and then stood firmly.

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The mountains to the north are serene and tranquil.

Further north, in the less mountainous region, a tense atmosphere prevailed.

A certain province. A certain supervisory agency.

The voice of the department head echoed in the corridor, audible even through three doors.

"Why hasn't the health system submitted its self-inspection report yet? Ah! Why hasn't it been submitted yet!"

The young clerk, blocked at the door, held a folder and said in a strained voice, "Director Wang, the submission date on the notice... is the day after tomorrow."

"The day after tomorrow?!" The person in charge's voice rose another octave. "That's the deadline! With this kind of work ethic, can we get things done? Can we uncover the hidden dangers? Can we live up to the trust placed in us by the imperial court?!"

"Now! Immediately! Notify all municipal health commissions and directly affiliated medical institutions in the province—the first round of self-inspection must be completed by 2 PM! A written report must be submitted by 5 PM!"

With that, the person in charge flung open the office door, walked into the corridor, and coldly looked at the rows of closed doors on either side: "Whoever covered it up, whoever was perfunctory, whoever was responsible for a county or city that had problems, whoever will bear joint responsibility!"

Half a minute later, several doors in the corridor quietly opened.

Someone peeked out, glanced at it, and then withdrew.

Footsteps echoed from various offices, and the sound of keyboards clattering was twice as loud as before.

A certain city. Market Transaction Department.

To: All county/district/city bureaus of market supervision and administration offices:

"Recently, our city and surrounding areas have seen a large influx of transit passengers, including many traveling with children. To effectively protect the physical and mental health of children and maintain good market order, we hereby issue the following urgent notice:"

"First, starting immediately, a comprehensive inspection will be conducted on all children's toy wholesale markets, retail stores, shops around schools, and souvenir shops in tourist attractions throughout the city. The following categories will be the focus of the inspection: plastic toys, electric toys, plush toys, blind box products, and various 'trendy' children's products."

"Second, the key areas of investigation include: whether product labels are complete, whether there are any 'three-no' products (products without manufacturer's name, address, or production date), whether there are excessive levels of toxic or harmful substances, whether there are any safety hazards such as small parts falling off, and whether there is any false advertising or misleading consumption."

"Third, all problematic products discovered during the investigation will be removed from shelves, sealed, and dealt with according to law. Merchants who repeatedly fail to correct their behavior or have serious problems will have their business licenses revoked and will be severely punished."

A certain county. A certain civil affairs department.

Thirty-odd people sat around a long table piled high with yellowed files.

The youngest girl was flipping through a stack of files from ten years ago when she cut her finger on the edge of the paper. She didn't care, just grabbed a tissue to wrap it up and continued flipping.

The phone rang by the door. No one answered.

The phone rang again. Still, no one answered.

When the third sound came, the old section chief sitting at the very back looked up, glanced at the door, then lowered his head again and continued flipping through the even older file in his hand.

The phone finally stopped ringing.

Footsteps echoed down the corridor, and someone pushed open the door—it was Xiao Liu from the office.

"Section Chief Zhou, the county has been urging us several times about the progress of the investigation into trafficked children—"

"Too late." The old section chief didn't even look up.

Xiao Liu opened his mouth, then closed it again, and stood at the door without leaving.

The old section chief finished flipping through the book in his hand, wrote a line in the notebook, and then looked up.

"Tell the county that the oldest of these files dates back 30 years. Also, there are records from 20 years ago, all of which are paper files without electronic catalogs. You have to go through them one by one, page by page."

"Is it possible to sort out thirty years of accounts in just a few hours?"

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Cancer Hospital of X Province, Y City.

At 9 p.m., Zhang Qiliang landed at the entrance of the hospital building.

The light shone through the glass door, illuminating the open space in front of it in a white light.

Upon seeing Zhang Qiliang, more than a dozen uniformed men at the entrance made way for him. Zhang Qiliang pushed open the door and went inside. The elevator happened to be stopped on the first floor with the doors open.

Thirteenth floor, hospice care department.

The lights in the corridor were dimly lit, and warm yellow light streamed down from the ceiling, casting a soft, warm glow on the walls and floor.

The nurse on duty at the nurses' station looked up, saw him, paused for a moment while writing, then lowered her head and continued writing her notes.

Everything that needed to be arranged has been arranged, and everything that needed to be cleared has been cleared.

At the end of the corridor, all the ward doors were open, and warm light shone from inside.

Zhang Qiliang entered the first ward.

—BBC Studios, London—

The scene cuts to a hospital room with a warm yellow hue.

The camera is stable, the image quality is clear, and in the lower right corner of the screen, there is a line of small white text: "Live | Y City, China".

The voice of host James Harris came from off-screen, calm and restrained, with the unique solemnity of "witnessing history".

"Dear viewers, what we are seeing now is live footage from the hospice ward on the 13th floor of the Cancer Hospital of Da Yang X Province. About three minutes ago, 'quedexia,' beloved by viewers worldwide, entered this building. Following yesterday's pattern, he is visiting each of the terminally ill patients who are beyond the reach of modern medicine."

In the video, Zhang Qiliang walks to the bedside and stands still.

Harris's voice continued: "This is the first patient tonight. According to medical information we obtained through our partner channels—"

A concise patient information card pops up on the right side of the screen:

Name: Chen Xiuying

Age: 58 years old

Place of origin: Qingxi County, Da Yang Province

Diagnosis: Primary liver cancer, advanced stage, with multiple metastases.

Expert panel opinion: Following a joint assessment by the National Cancer Center of Taichung and three independent overseas medical institutions, the patient's liver tumor has invaded major blood vessels, making surgical resection impossible; existing chemotherapy, targeted therapy, and immunotherapy regimens are all ineffective. Modern medical methods are powerless to help.

The information card lingered for five seconds before fading out, replaced by two figures beside the hospital bed.

A middle-aged man stood at the head of the bed, wearing a shirt, his shoulders slightly hunched, his hands resting on the edge of the bed.

A boy, about fifteen or sixteen years old, was sitting by the bed, wearing a school uniform, with a large schoolbag next to him.

Harris softened her voice: "This gentleman is her husband. As far as we know, he worked in a local coal mine for twenty-three years. Three months ago, he applied for early retirement, and since then he has been sitting by her bedside every day."

The camera zooms in slightly, bringing the man's profile into the frame.

His eyes were sunken, he had a patch of stubble on his chin, and his lips were chapped, but his back was very straight.

"Sitting by the bed is her son, Zhou Xiaoyu, 15 years old, who is in the GCSE stage. His physical education teacher told us that despite having received several excellent recommendation letters, including one for being a 'three-good student,' this respectable boy has maintained perfect attendance for the past two months. However, the price he has paid is that he must cycle for about 40 minutes every day after school—roughly the distance from Zone 1 to Zone 3 of London—to reach the hospital and complete his studies at his mother's bedside."

In the video, the boy has his head down and his shoulders are tense, as if he is afraid of making a sound.

Zhang Qiliang stopped beside the bed. "Madam, can you hear me?"

The woman in the hospital bed nodded.

Her face was thin, with prominent cheekbones and skin that had the dark yellow hue characteristic of liver disease, but her eyes were bright.

"My first question is, in your life, have you ever done anything immoral or unethical?"

The woman firmly shook her head.

Zhang Qiliang looked into her eyes and nodded.

"My second question," Zhang Qiliang said, "are you willing to use all your assets to solve your illness?"

Harris's voice came from off-screen, speaking a little slower than before: "It must be noted here that the fees requested by Quedexia are not to be paid to him personally, but to the Great Yang National Healthcare System directly."

A message pops up in the lower right corner of the screen: "Payment to NHS China | Payment to the National Health Service of Taiwan"

“In other words,” Harris continued, “while Quedexia is treating patients for whom modern medicine is powerless, he is also fighting for more adequate social security resources for millions of ordinary patients in this country—those waiting for surgery, chemotherapy, and basic medical services.”

"The cost of each critically ill patient could potentially allow a community clinic to operate for another year or a district hospital to acquire an additional dialysis machine."

"Or, make a diabetic patient use insulin for ten years, or make a child with asthma use inhaler for fifteen years."

"At the very least, it can make a local health facility in a remote area fill its meager medicine cabinet twice from top to bottom."

111 BBC Your mother is dead

"Dear viewers..." In the studio, the host's voice rose slightly.

"Question answered. Now, Mr. Quedexia raises his right hand."

The camera zooms in.

In the video, Zhang Qiliang stands by the hospital bed, slowly raising his right hand from his side to shoulder level.

His palm was half open, his five fingers slightly curled up, and his fingertips pointed towards the top of the hospital bed, as if he were holding something unseen in his palm.

"As you can clearly see, there is a strange black mist coming out of the patient's body."

In the scene, wisps of grayish, spiderweb-like material slowly seep out from Chen Xiuying's chest, abdomen, and head.

They intertwined and swirled, twisting together in the air and gathering in Zhang Qiliang's palm.

Under the warm yellow light, dark energy appeared and disappeared, like smoke, like fog, like something that shouldn't exist in this world—and these things were being pulled out inch by inch from the depths of Chen Xiuying's body by a force that shouldn't exist in this world either.

“This process is usually very short,” Harris glanced at the timestamp in the corner of the screen, “about three seconds—like the vast majority of cases yesterday.”

The black energy dissipated.

Zhang Qiliang clasped his hands together and let them hang back at his sides.

Chen Xiuying, lying in her hospital bed, suddenly changed her breathing.

The short, labored breathing, as if each breath was being forced out of the chest, subsided.

His brows relaxed—the face, which had been furrowed by pain for so long that it had become ingrained in his bones, began to loosen layer by layer.

“Ms. Chen Xiuying’s expression has clearly relaxed a lot.” Harris lowered his voice by half a octave. “Based on the physical examination reports of the seventeen patients yesterday, we noticed a very interesting phenomenon—the imaging characteristics of the lesions have not undergone a fundamental reversal, and the levels of various biochemical indicators, tumor markers, and the extent of the lesions shown on imaging have not shown any dramatic or irreversible changes in the short term.”

"But everything is getting better. Very quickly. Pain scores dropped from eight to two, the ability to eat independently was restored, and some patients' performance status scores improved from being bedridden to being able to get out of bed and walk. Modern medicine cannot explain this disparity—the indicators haven't changed, but the person is getting better."

In the video, Chen Xiuying's lips moved, but she didn't make a sound; however, her eyes were bright.

Harris's voice carried a hint of amusement: "Chinese cyberspace calls this process 'extracting pathogenic energy'—which is a very apt description."

The live stream camera showed Zhang Qiliang walking out of the ward.

The scenes switch rapidly.

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(Early morning, sunlight.)

(New York, Manhattan)

(A slightly tilted office building, police tape swaying gently in the wind, and police lights flashing silently in the distance.)

(The world's most famous celebrity, casually crossing his legs, a cigarette in his left hand and a cup of coffee in his right.)

(The camera stays still for one second, then fast-forwards to the coffee cup.)