Chapter 10 — Breakfast Before Revenge

At 5:47 in the morning, Lu Chen stood inside a convenience store wearing a bloodstained shirt and holding two bottles of strawberry milk.

The cashier looked at him.

Then at the blood.

Then at the milk.

Then back at him.

Lu Chen placed a bag of steamed buns on the counter.

“Those too.”

The cashier did not move.

“Sir…”

“Yes?”

“Are you okay?”

Lu Chen looked down.

There was dried blood on his sleeve.

Some belonged to Zhou Kai.

Some to Bai Shuyue.

Possibly some to Mo Changfeng.

None of it was his.

Mostly.

“I’m fine.”

The cashier continued staring.

Lu Chen added a carton of eggs.

That did not improve matters.

“Do you need me to call someone?”

“No.”

“The police?”

“Definitely not.”

The cashier’s hand moved slightly toward his phone.

Lu Chen sighed.

“I’m a doctor.”

The cashier looked at the blood again.

“That somehow made this worse.”

Lu Chen considered.

Fair.

He produced his medical identification.

The young man examined it.

Then looked considerably less concerned.

Not completely unconcerned.

But enough to scan the milk.

“Long night?”

“Very.”

“Emergency?”

“Several.”

The cashier nodded sympathetically.

Then noticed the second bottle of strawberry milk.

“Two kids?”

“One.”

“Then why two?”

Lu Chen looked at the bottles.

A pause.

“Insurance.”

The cashier finally smiled.

“Smart.”

Lu Chen paid.

As he turned to leave, the cashier called after him.

“Doctor?”

Lu Chen looked back.

“Hope your patient is okay.”

His hand tightened slightly around the shopping bag.

“Six of them are.”

The cashier blinked.

Lu Chen walked out.

Jiangzhou was beginning to wake.

The sky had changed from black to deep blue.

Street cleaners moved along the sidewalks.

Bakery lights came on.

Buses began their first routes.

For everyone else, it was the beginning of an ordinary Tuesday.

For Lu Chen, the previous twenty-four hours had included:

two assassination attempts,

a hidden cultivator auction,

a half-billion-yuan medical manuscript,

an escaped Upper Court enforcer,

a missing master who might not actually be dead,

and the name of a man involved in destroying his home.

Yan Wusheng.

The name remained in his mind.

Quiet.

Waiting.

Five years ago, Lu Chen would already have been searching for him.

He would have followed the first trail.

Broken the first door.

Questioned the first person connected to the name.

He had been younger then.

Angrier.

And considerably stronger.

Now?

Lu Chen checked the time.

5:54.

He quickened his pace.

Revenge could wait.

Breakfast could not.

The light in Madam Zhou’s apartment was already on.

Lu Chen had barely reached the stairs when her door opened.

Madam Zhou stood there wearing the same floral sleeping gown from several hours earlier.

Her eyes went immediately to his clothes.

“What happened to you?”

“Patients.”

“All that blood?”

“Mostly.”

She stared.

Lu Chen realized that had been the wrong word.

“None of it is serious.”

“For you?”

“Yes.”

“What about them?”

“They’re alive.”

Madam Zhou’s expression softened.

Then immediately became suspicious again.

“You promised that girl you’d be home before breakfast.”

“I am home before breakfast.”

She looked toward the window.

“It is six in the morning.”

“Yes.”

“That is breakfast.”

“Technically, breakfast begins when she eats.”

Madam Zhou narrowed her eyes.

“You are teaching her terrible habits.”

“She taught me worse.”

A small voice came from the bedroom.

“Daddy?”

Lu Chen stopped.

Tiny footsteps followed.

Then Lu Xiaoxiao appeared.

Hair wild.

Pink pajamas.

One slipper.

Stuffed rabbit dragged by an ear.

She stood in the hallway.

Looked at Lu Chen.

Looked at the bag in his hand.

Then at the clock.

Her eyes narrowed.

Lu Chen felt considerably more pressure than when Mo Changfeng had threatened to kill them.

“I’m back.”

Xiaoxiao said nothing.

He lifted the bag.

“Breakfast.”

Still nothing.

“Steamed buns.”

Nothing.

Then he produced one bottle.

“Strawberry milk.”

Her expression weakened.

Only slightly.

Then he produced the second bottle.

Xiaoxiao’s eyes widened.

“Two?”

“Two.”

The battle was over.

She ran toward him.

“Daddy!”

Lu Chen crouched just in time.

She collided with his chest.

Then immediately pulled back.

Her nose wrinkled.

“You smell bad.”

Madam Zhou laughed.

Lu Chen stared at his daughter.

“I missed you too.”

“You smell like medicine.”

“Better.”

“And something burnt.”

“Also medicine.”

“And sewer.”

Lu Chen paused.

That one was unfortunately accurate.

Xiaoxiao looked suspicious.

“Where did you go?”

“Work.”

“Doctors work in sewers?”

“Sometimes.”

Madam Zhou crossed her arms.

“I would also like that explanation.”

“No.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m going to take a shower.”

He handed the food to Xiaoxiao.

She hugged the bag.

Then noticed his sleeve.

“Daddy.”

Her voice changed.

Lu Chen followed her gaze.

Blood.

He had hoped she wouldn’t see it.

“Are you hurt?”

“No.”

“Promise?”

Lu Chen hesitated.

Not because he was injured.

Because he had begun to dislike using that word casually.

Xiaoxiao noticed.

Her face became worried.

Lu Chen knelt.

He placed her tiny hand against his chest.

Steady heartbeat.

“Feel?”

She nodded.

“I’m okay.”

“Whose blood?”

“Patients.”

“Did they live?”

He looked into her eyes.

“Yes.”

“All of them?”

Lu Chen thought of the poisoned Upper Court cultivator beneath Golden Pavilion.

Alive when they left.

Zhou Kai.

Alive.

Mo Changfeng.

Alive.

Bai Shuyue.

Alive.

“Yes.”

Xiaoxiao smiled.

“Good.”

That was all.

No questions about cultivators.

No Upper Court.

No revenge.

The world, according to Xiaoxiao, was still wonderfully simple.

People were hurt.

Daddy fixed them.

Lu Chen hoped she could believe that for a little longer.

Twenty minutes later, the three of them sat around Madam Zhou’s kitchen table.

Lu Chen had showered and changed into clean clothes.

Xiaoxiao had finished one bottle of strawberry milk.

The second remained beside her bowl.

Unopened.

Lu Chen pointed at it.

“You asked for two.”

“This one is for later.”

“That was not the agreement.”

The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

“What agreement?”

Lu Chen stared.

Madam Zhou laughed.

“You lost.”

“I didn’t know we were negotiating.”

“That is why you lost.”

Xiaoxiao bit into a steamed bun.

“Where is Pretty Auntie?”

Lu Chen almost choked on tea.

“At work.”

“At six?”

“Some adults work early.”

“You work late.”

“Yes.”

“Pretty Auntie works early.”

“Yes.”

“So who watches me while both of you work?”

Silence.

Madam Zhou looked at Lu Chen.

Slowly.

With great interest.

Lu Chen put down his cup.

“There is no ‘both of us.’”

Xiaoxiao frowned.

“You and Pretty Auntie.”

“I understood the sentence.”

“Then why are you confused?”

“I am not confused.”

Madam Zhou said:

“You look confused.”

Lu Chen regretted coming home.

Xiaoxiao continued:

“Is Pretty Auntie coming later?”

“I don’t know.”

“You have her phone number.”

“Yes.”

“Call her.”

“No.”

“Why?”

“Because it is six twenty in the morning.”

“She was awake.”

“How do you know?”

“She was with you.”

Madam Zhou slowly turned toward Lu Chen.

Lu Chen pointed at his daughter.

“Eat.”

Xiaoxiao smiled around her bun.

His phone vibrated.

Lu Chen looked at the screen.

Qin Ruoxi

Xiaoxiao saw the name.

Her eyes lit up.

“Pretty Auntie!”

Lu Chen stood.

“I’m taking this outside.”

“No!”

Too late.

He answered while walking toward the balcony.

“Hello?”

Ruoxi’s voice came immediately.

“Zhou Kai is stable.”

Lu Chen stopped.

“How stable?”

“Doctors repaired the wound in his side and treated the blood loss. No major organ failure.”

“Good.”

“Zhou Wei refuses to leave his room.”

“Expected.”

“Bai Shuyue disappeared.”

That caught his attention.

“When?”

“Before we arrived at the hospital.”

“Did anyone follow her?”

“No.”

“Good.”

Ruoxi paused.

“You don’t seem concerned.”

“She’ll return.”

“How do you know?”

“She still wants something.”

“You make relationships sound very transactional.”

“Most dangerous relationships are.”

“And ours?”

Lu Chen looked through the glass door.

Xiaoxiao had pressed her face against it.

Watching him.

“Unfortunately complicated.”

Ruoxi laughed softly.

Then became serious.

“My grandfather knows about Yan Wusheng.”

Lu Chen’s expression changed.

“How?”

“He wouldn’t explain over the phone.”

“Where is he?”

“Hospital.”

“Keep him there.”

“He wants to come to the clinic.”

“No.”

“I told him you’d say that.”

“Then why are we having this conversation?”

“Because he’s already arranging transportation.”

Lu Chen closed his eyes.

Stubborn family.

“He nearly died twice.”

“He knows.”

“He should rest.”

“He says people have been telling him that for thirty years.”

“He is seventy-something.”

“Seventy-four.”

“Old enough to know better.”

“I will tell him the Ghost Physician called him irresponsible.”

“Do that.”

“I think he’ll like you more.”

“That is not the objective.”

Xiaoxiao tapped the glass.

Lu Chen ignored her.

Ruoxi continued:

“There’s something else.”

“What?”

“My grandfather asked whether you still have the jade pendant.”

“Yes.”

Silence.

Lu Chen’s attention sharpened.

“How does he know about it?”

“He said…”

She hesitated.

“…he has seen it before.”

Lu Chen became very still.

“When?”

“Thirty-one years ago.”

There it was.

The connection Wei Jun had mentioned.

The one they had not yet explained.

“Bring him.”

Ruoxi laughed.

“I thought he should stay in hospital.”

“I changed my mind.”

“Medicine evolves?”

Lu Chen stared at the phone.

She was becoming intolerable.

“Yes.”

“I’ll bring him at nine.”

The call ended.

Lu Chen remained on the balcony.

Thirty-one years ago.

Before the Valley fell.

Before he had ever entered his master’s life.

Qin Zhenguo had seen the Valley Master Seal.

Why?

The glass door slid open.

Xiaoxiao stepped outside.

“You didn’t let me talk.”

“You were eating.”

“I can do both.”

“I know.”

She looked toward the phone.

“Is Pretty Auntie coming?”

“Yes.”

“When?”

“Nine.”

Xiaoxiao smiled.

Then ran inside.

“Grandma! Pretty Auntie is coming!”

Lu Chen immediately regretted everything.

At seven thirty, Lu Chen reopened the clinic.

The new glass had not arrived yet, so plywood temporarily covered the broken window.

The black crescent symbol had been scrubbed from the wall.

Most of it.

A faint outline remained.

Lu Chen could have painted over it.

He chose not to.

Not yet.

A reminder.

Not of fear.

Of proximity.

They had come to his home.

That could not happen again.

The coffin remained in storage.

Madam Zhou had insisted it be covered.

Apparently an uncovered coffin was bad luck.

Lu Chen had decided not to ask why a covered coffin was better.

He placed the Nine Medicines manuscript inside a locked drawer beneath his consultation table.

The half-jade remained against his chest beneath his shirt.

Warm.

Quiet.

Six acknowledged lives.

Four before the First Gift.

He sat.

For the first time in what felt like days, nobody was trying to kill him.

The door opened.

Uncle Chen entered.

“My stomach hurts.”

Lu Chen looked at him.

“What did you eat?”

“Nothing unusual.”

“How many bowls of spicy noodles last night?”

Silence.

“Uncle Chen.”

“Three.”

“Go away.”

“I’m a patient!”

“You’re a criminal.”

“Against whom?”

“Your stomach.”

Uncle Chen sat.

Lu Chen sighed and checked his pulse.

Normal.

Indigestion.

Predictable.

Not every patient needed divine medicine.

Sometimes people simply needed to stop eating three bowls of noodles at midnight.

“Less chili.”

“Impossible.”

“Then enjoy suffering.”

“That is not compassionate medicine.”

“That is consequence.”

Uncle Chen left with herbal tea and several complaints.

The next patient was a woman with back pain.

Then a taxi driver with a cough.

Then Madam Zhou returned despite having seen him less than an hour earlier.

“My knee.”

“You carried groceries again.”

“How do you know?”

“Because you are holding groceries.”

She looked down at the bags in her hands.

“Coincidence.”

Lu Chen treated her anyway.

None of them triggered the manuscript.

He hadn't expected them to.

The First Medicine did not count ordinary consultations.

It was not a loyalty program.

Then, at 8:36—

someone screamed outside.

“Doctor!”

Lu Chen stood immediately.

A young woman ran through the clinic entrance carrying a little boy.

Five.

Maybe six.

His face had turned pale.

His breathing came in short, desperate gasps.

Behind them, an older man carried a backpack and looked terrified.

“Please!”

The mother placed the boy on the treatment bed.

“He suddenly couldn’t breathe.”

Lu Chen moved.

“What happened?”

“He was eating breakfast.”

“What?”

“Bread. Egg. Peanut butter.”

“Has he eaten peanuts before?”

“Yes!”

The boy wheezed.

His lips were beginning to swell.

Lu Chen’s expression changed.

Severe allergic reaction.

The mother was crying.

“Please save him.”

No cultivation.

No poison seal.

No Upper Court.

No conspiracy.

Just a child whose body had suddenly turned against him.

Lu Chen reached for the clinic’s emergency kit.

“Call emergency services.”

The grandfather immediately pulled out his phone.

Lu Chen worked quickly.

No mystical display.

No glowing needles.

No secret technique.

He used ordinary emergency medicine first.

Because ordinary medicine was enough.

The boy’s breathing remained strained.

Lu Chen monitored him closely.

Seconds passed.

Then another intervention.

The swelling slowed.

Breathing improved slightly.

The mother held her son’s hand.

“Baby, look at Mommy.”

The boy’s eyes moved.

Good.

Still responsive.

Lu Chen listened to his chest.

Better.

Not good.

Better.

The ambulance siren became audible outside.

The mother looked at him.

“Is he going to be okay?”

“He needs hospital observation.”

“But—”

“He’s breathing.”

She began crying harder.

Relief this time.

The boy looked toward Lu Chen weakly.

“Doctor…”

“Yes?”

“My throat hurts.”

“That’s because you’re causing trouble before nine in the morning.”

The boy blinked.

His mother stared.

Lu Chen added:

“You’ll be fine.”

The little boy nodded.

The ambulance team entered moments later.

Lu Chen gave a concise handover.

Medication given.

Timing.

Response.

Known exposure.

They transferred the child.

The mother followed.

Then stopped at the door.

“How much?”

Lu Chen looked at her.

“What?”

“The treatment.”

“Go.”

“But—”

“Your son needs you.”

“I can pay.”

“I know.”

“How much?”

The manuscript beneath Lu Chen’s desk became warm.

He felt it.

The mother did not.

Lu Chen glanced down.

Then back at her.

“Nothing.”

Her expression changed.

“Doctor…”

“Go.”

She bowed suddenly.

Deep.

Too deep.

Lu Chen stepped sideways.

“I said go, not worship.”

She laughed through tears.

Then ran after the ambulance.

The clinic became quiet.

Lu Chen waited.

The drawer beneath the table glowed faintly.

He opened it.

The manuscript had opened.

Six golden seeds.

Then—

a seventh.

It formed slowly.

Gold filled it from the center outward.

Seven lives acknowledged.

Lu Chen stared at it.

Three remaining.

But something about this one felt different.

The previous acknowledged lives had all been entangled with cultivation.

Qin Zhenguo.

His bodyguard.

Zhou Wei.

Bai Shuyue.

Zhou Kai.

Mo Changfeng.

This child had nothing to do with any of it.

No cultivation.

No destiny.

No ancient organization.

Just a patient.

The golden seed shone just as brightly as the others.

Lu Chen smiled.

Of course.

Life did not care whether someone was important.

His master would have approved.

He closed the book.

“Three.”

A voice behind him said:

“Three what?”

Lu Chen looked up.

Xiaoxiao stood at the clinic entrance holding the unopened strawberry milk.

Madam Zhou behind her.

“Nothing.”

Xiaoxiao looked toward the ambulance disappearing down the street.

“Did you save someone?”

“Yes.”

“A kid?”

“Yes.”

“Was he scared?”

“Probably.”

She thought.

“Did you give him candy?”

“No.”

“You should.”

“He was having an allergic reaction.”

“What’s that?”

“His body didn’t like something he ate.”

She looked suspiciously at the strawberry milk.

“Can milk do that?”

“Yes.”

Xiaoxiao slowly put the bottle down.

Lu Chen sighed.

“You are not allergic to milk.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“How?”

“You drink it every week.”

She picked the bottle up again.

“Okay.”

Children recovered from existential concerns quickly.

At exactly nine twelve, three black vehicles stopped outside the clinic.

Lu Chen looked at the clock.

“Late.”

Qin Ruoxi entered first.

“I told him nine. Getting a seventy-four-year-old man discharged against medical advice takes time.”

“You actually discharged him?”

“No.”

Qin Zhenguo entered behind her.

Hospital wristband still attached.

A cane in one hand.

A doctor trailing him with the expression of a man questioning every career decision that had led to this moment.

Lu Chen stared.

“You escaped.”

Qin Zhenguo smiled.

“I prefer temporarily relocated.”

The doctor said:

“Chairman Qin is supposed to remain under observation.”

Qin Zhenguo waved him away.

“I have been observed enough.”

“You had cardiac arrest.”

“So everyone keeps telling me.”

“And severe unexplained hypothermia.”

“I remember that one.”

Lu Chen pointed toward the consultation chair.

“Sit.”

Qin Zhenguo looked amused.

“Immediately?”

“Yes.”

“You sound like my granddaughter.”

Ruoxi smiled.

“I like him more every hour.”

Lu Chen ignored both.

He checked Qin Zhenguo’s pulse.

Stable.

Better than expected.

No active black energy.

No new contamination.

Good.

“You have thirty minutes.”

Qin Zhenguo raised an eyebrow.

“Before?”

“I send you back.”

“You cannot order me.”

“You're in my clinic.”

Qin Zhenguo laughed.

“Your master had the same habit.”

Everything stopped.

Lu Chen released his wrist.

“You knew him.”

Qin Zhenguo’s expression softened.

“A long time ago.”

“How?”

The old man looked toward Ruoxi.

“Close the door.”

She did.

Madam Zhou immediately appeared outside the window opening.

Lu Chen looked at her.

She looked innocent.

He pointed across the street.

She left reluctantly.

Mostly.

Qin Zhenguo reached inside his coat.

He removed a small wooden token.

Old.

Worn smooth.

Nine leaves had been carved around one side.

At the center—

a medicine cauldron.

Lu Chen’s expression changed.

“Where did you get that?”

“Your master.”

“Thirty-one years ago?”

“Yes.”

Qin placed it on the table.

The half-jade beneath Lu Chen’s shirt became warm.

So did the manuscript drawer.

Ruoxi noticed his reaction.

“What is it?”

“Valley guest token.”

Qin nodded.

“I was told there were only twelve.”

“There were.”

“How many remain?”

“I don’t know.”

Probably very few.

Lu Chen picked it up.

He remembered seeing tokens like this in the Valley archives.

They were given only to outsiders who had received significant favor from the sect.

Not patients who came for headaches.

People whose relationship with the Valley mattered.

“What happened?”

Qin Zhenguo looked toward the morning light.

“Thirty-one years ago, I was an idiot.”

Ruoxi blinked.

“Grandfather.”

“I was thirty-three.”

“You were forty-three thirty-one years ago.”

Qin paused.

“You see? Even older men make mistakes.”

Ruoxi stared.

Lu Chen almost smiled.

Qin continued.

“My family was smaller then.”

“How small?” Lu Chen asked.

“Comfortable. Not powerful.”

“What business?”

“Transportation.”

That surprised Ruoxi.

“Our family—”

“Did not begin with hospitals and real estate.”

He looked at her.

“You young people assume everything existed before you were born.”

Xiaoxiao’s voice came from upstairs.

“Daddy does that!”

Lu Chen looked toward the ceiling.

“Why is she listening?”

Ruoxi smiled.

“Genetics.”

“Not mine.”

Qin continued.

“One of our trucks was hired to transport medicinal supplies west.”

“Where?”

“I did not know initially.”

“Valley?”

“Yes.”

Lu Chen’s attention sharpened.

“Outsiders didn’t transport directly into the Valley.”

“I know.”

“The goods should have been transferred at a mountain station.”

“They were.”

Qin paused.

“But the men receiving them were attacked.”

Lu Chen frowned.

“By whom?”

“Martial artists.”

“How many?”

“Enough.”

“Why were you there?”

“I followed the shipment.”

“Why?”

“I told you.”

Qin smiled faintly.

“I was an idiot.”

Ruoxi sighed.

“At least he is consistent.”

Qin ignored her.

“I thought someone was stealing from me.”

“What happened?”

“I got involved.”

“Why?”

“One of the men protecting the medicine was young.”

Qin’s eyes became distant.

“He couldn’t have been older than nineteen.”

Lu Chen waited.

“I watched someone put a sword through his stomach.”

The room became quiet.

“I picked him up.”

“You carried him?”

“Yes.”

“Where?”

“Toward the mountain.”

Qin laughed once.

“Perhaps I was too stupid to understand that people carrying swords might follow.”

“They did.”

“Yes.”

“How did you survive?”

“Your master found us.”

Of course.

Lu Chen could almost see it.

His master complaining while saving everyone.

“What did he say?”

Qin smiled.

“He asked whether I had always been that stupid.”

Lu Chen closed his eyes.

Ruoxi looked between them.

“He actually sounds like you.”

“I was going to say the opposite.”

Qin continued.

“He saved the young man.”

“And you?”

“I had been cut twice.”

“Serious?”

“One blade had poison.”

Qin touched his ribs unconsciously.

“I should have died.”

“But he treated you.”

“Yes.”

“Then gave you the token.”

“After I recovered.”

“Why?”

Qin Zhenguo became quiet.

“That is the part I never understood.”

Lu Chen frowned.

“He didn’t explain?”

“He said…”

Qin looked directly at him.

“…‘One day the Valley may need someone who owes it nothing.’”

Lu Chen’s expression changed.

Ruoxi frowned.

“But you owed him your life.”

“That is what I said.”

“And?”

Qin smiled faintly.

“He told me…”

The old man’s voice softened.

“‘A life saved is not a debt collected.’”

Lu Chen looked away.

Damn old man.

Even thirty-one years ago.

Exactly the same.

His fingers tightened around the token.

“What did he ask you to do?”

“Nothing.”

“Ever?”

“Not once.”

“Then why maintain contact?”

“I didn’t.”

Lu Chen looked back.

Qin continued.

“I never found the Valley again.”

“Expected.”

“Years passed.”

“Then?”

“Twenty-six years ago, someone delivered a photograph.”

Lu Chen’s eyes sharpened.

“A photograph?”

Qin nodded.

“Anonymous.”

“Do you have it?”

“Yes.”

Ruoxi stared.

“You’ve never shown me this.”

“There was no reason.”

“There seems to be one now.”

Qin reached into an envelope inside his coat.

He placed an old photograph on the desk.

Black and white.

Edges yellowed.

Lu Chen picked it up.

Three men stood near a mountain road.

One was Qin Zhenguo.

Much younger.

Broad-shouldered.

Confident.

The second—

Lu Chen’s breath caught.

His master.

Younger too.

Black hair mixed with gray.

Same irritated expression he had worn for most of Lu Chen’s childhood.

Lu Chen’s thumb touched the image.

For several seconds, nobody spoke.

Then Ruoxi pointed.

“Who is the third man?”

Lu Chen looked.

Near the edge of the photograph stood another person.

Not posing.

Perhaps unaware the picture was being taken.

Tall.

Traditional dark robe.

Face partly turned.

Only the side visible.

But one detail was clear.

A ring.

Dark stone.

Three lines.

A crescent.

The Black Crescent.

Lu Chen’s expression hardened.

“When was this photograph taken?”

Qin answered immediately.

“The day after your master treated me.”

“Thirty-one years ago.”

“Yes.”

That meant the Black Crescent—or someone using its mark—had been near the Valley three decades ago.

Long before its destruction.

Long before Lu Chen.

“Who took it?”

“I don’t know.”

“Why send it twenty-six years ago?”

“I don’t know.”

“Anything written?”

“One sentence.”

Qin took out a second piece of paper.

Old.

Folded.

Ink faded.

Lu Chen opened it.

Four words.

REMEMBER WHO WAS WATCHING.

He read them twice.

Ruoxi frowned.

“So someone wanted Grandfather to know that man was there.”

“Yes,” Lu Chen said.

“Why?”

“I don’t know.”

Qin Zhenguo leaned forward.

“There is more.”

Lu Chen looked at him.

“Five days ago…”

Qin paused.

“…someone broke into my private study.”

Ruoxi’s face changed.

“What?”

“You never told me.”

“I thought it was ordinary theft.”

“What was taken?”

“Nothing valuable.”

“Then?”

Qin pointed toward the photograph.

“The original.”

Ruoxi looked down.

“This is a copy?”

“Yes.”

“I had it digitized years ago.”

Lu Chen’s eyes sharpened.

“What else?”

“One envelope.”

“Contents?”

“I don’t know.”

“You kept an unopened envelope for thirty-one years?”

“No.”

Qin looked toward him.

“It arrived with the photograph twenty-six years ago.”

“Addressed to whom?”

Qin hesitated.

“Not a name.”

He removed another small copy from the envelope.

On the front, written in old brush script:

FOR THE NEXT KEEPER OF THE NINE LEAVES.

The room went silent.

Lu Chen slowly touched the half-jade beneath his shirt.

Nine leaves.

Nine Medicines Seal.

The manuscript.

Qin Zhenguo continued:

“I was told never to open it.”

“By whom?”

“The note attached.”

“What did it say?”

“Keep the envelope until someone recognizes the token without explanation.”

Lu Chen looked at the wooden guest token.

He had recognized it instantly.

Qin’s expression became grim.

“But five days ago, before you saved me…”

His gaze settled on Lu Chen.

“…someone stole it.”

Silence.

Ruoxi’s voice became cold.

“Then whoever attacked you was looking for the envelope.”

“Possibly.”

“No,” Lu Chen said.

They looked at him.

He studied the photograph.

The ring.

The crescent.

Thirty-one years of preparation.

A stolen envelope.

Then Qin Zhenguo attacked.

Lu Chen forced to reveal himself.

The sequence was too precise.

“They took the envelope first.”

Ruoxi understood.

“Then targeted Grandfather.”

“Yes.”

“To draw out someone connected to the Valley.”

“Yes.”

Qin Zhenguo’s face tightened.

“And they found you.”

Lu Chen nodded.

But that meant something else.

The attack on Qin Zhenguo had not begun three months ago.

Not really.

The trail was decades old.

Someone had watched the Valley before Lu Chen ever became a disciple.

Someone had waited.

Prepared.

And now—

they possessed a message intended for the next keeper of the nine leaves.

For him.

Qin Zhenguo looked toward the photograph.

“I should have told you earlier.”

“You didn’t know who I was.”

“Still.”

“It changes nothing.”

“It may have placed you in danger.”

Lu Chen almost laughed.

“They destroyed my sect five years ago.”

He looked at the old man.

“I was already in danger.”

Then footsteps rushed outside.

The clinic door opened.

A woman entered.

Not Qin security.

Not a cultivator.

The young mother from earlier.

She was crying.

Lu Chen stood immediately.

“What happened?”

“My son…”

His expression sharpened.

“The hospital?”

She nodded rapidly.

“They said he’s stable.”

Lu Chen exhaled.

Then why—

The woman held something toward him.

A small drawing.

Crayon.

Messy.

A stick figure in a white coat.

A smaller stick figure beside him.

At the top, written unevenly:

THANK YOU DOCTOR

Lu Chen stared.

“He drew that?”

“He insisted.”

The mother wiped her eyes.

“He said the doctor who saved him looked too serious.”

Ruoxi covered a smile.

Qin Zhenguo laughed.

Lu Chen looked offended.

The woman placed the drawing on his desk.

“My husband wants to pay you.”

“No.”

“We can afford—”

“No.”

“Then at least take this.”

She pushed forward a small paper bag.

Inside were oranges.

Lu Chen looked at them.

Then at her.

“Those I’ll take.”

She smiled.

“Thank you.”

“No.”

He nodded toward the drawing.

“Thank him.”

She bowed once.

Less deeply this time.

Then left.

The room remained quiet.

Qin Zhenguo looked at the childish drawing.

Then at Lu Chen.

“So that is the Ghost Physician.”

Lu Chen sat.

“Unfortunately.”

“Not what I expected.”

“What did you expect?”

Qin smiled.

“Someone frightening.”

A small voice came from upstairs.

“He is when he’s mad!”

Everyone looked upward.

Lu Chen closed his eyes.

“Xiaoxiao.”

Her face appeared between the stair rails.

“Yes?”

“Were you listening?”

“No.”

Silence.

Then:

“Maybe.”

Ruoxi laughed.

Even Qin Zhenguo smiled.

Lu Chen shook his head.

He looked again at the stolen-envelope copy.

Yan Wusheng.

Upper Court.

Black Crescent.

The Valley traitor.

His missing master.

A message stolen before it reached him.

Five years ago, revenge would have consumed everything else.

Today—

a child’s drawing lay beside the photograph of his destroyed past.

Lu Chen looked at both.

Then understood something simple.

He did want revenge.

He would find Yan Wusheng.

He would uncover the traitor.

He would learn what happened to his master.

But he would not allow dead people to dictate how he lived among the living.

His patients still needed him.

Xiaoxiao still expected dinner.

And apparently breakfast required two bottles of strawberry milk.

One could pursue vengeance without becoming it.

Perhaps that was another thing his master had tried to teach him.

Lu Chen picked up the photograph.

“Ruoxi.”

“Yes?”

“Can you identify everyone who accessed your grandfather’s study in the last month?”

“Yes.”

“Visitors too.”

“Probably.”

“Do it.”

Her expression sharpened.

“You think the thief is connected to the Qin household.”

“I think nobody breaks into a secure private study searching for one specific twenty-six-year-old envelope by accident.”

Qin nodded.

Ruoxi pulled out her phone.

“Anything else?”

“Yes.”

Lu Chen tapped the third man in the photograph.

“Enlarge this.”

“I already can.”

She photographed the image.

Several seconds later, the picture appeared on her screen.

She zoomed.

The man’s face remained partly obscured.

But the hand—

the ring—

and something beneath his sleeve became clearer.

A tattoo.

Not a crescent.

Something behind it.

Another symbol.

A circle pierced by nine lines.

Lu Chen froze.

He had seen that symbol.

Not on an enemy.

Inside the Valley.

His heartbeat changed.

Ruoxi noticed.

“What?”

Lu Chen took the phone.

Zoomed further.

Nine lines.

Circle.

Incomplete at the bottom.

His mind went back decades.

To the Valley library.

Restricted shelves.

A bronze door.

His master shouting at him for entering a room he had been forbidden to enter.

Above that door—

the same symbol.

Lu Chen stood.

Qin Zhenguo frowned.

“What is it?”

Lu Chen stared at the mark.

“The man in this photograph…”

His voice became quieter.

“…may have been inside the Valley.”

Ruoxi looked at the screen.

“As a visitor?”

Lu Chen shook his head.

“No outsider was allowed beyond that door.”

Silence.

Qin Zhenguo’s expression changed.

“Then who was he?”

Lu Chen looked toward the faint Black Crescent stain still visible on his clinic wall.

The answer he had been avoiding since the jade message became unavoidable.

A traitor had existed inside the Valley.

Perhaps not five years ago.

Perhaps much longer.

He looked again at the unknown man.

“I think…”

His jaw tightened.

“…we just found our first candidate.”

That evening, far from Jiangzhou, an old envelope rested on a stone table.

The wax seal had already been broken.

Across the front:

FOR THE NEXT KEEPER OF THE NINE LEAVES.

A pair of pale hands removed the letter inside.

Only one line had been written.

The reader stared at it for a long time.

Then smiled.

The message said:

WHEN THE SEVENTH LIFE IS SAVED, RETURN WHAT WAS STOLEN FROM HIM.

A servant kneeling nearby lowered his head.

“My lord?”

The man folded the letter.

“The seventh life has been acknowledged.”

The servant looked up.

“So soon?”

“Yes.”

“What should we return?”

The man turned toward a wooden case resting in the darkness.

Inside lay something wrapped in black cloth.

Something that had once belonged to Lu Chen.

Something he believed had burned with the Valley five years ago.

The man’s smile deepened.

“His sword.”