Chapter 25 — The Second Pei Mingshan

The physician bell had gone cold.

Lu Chen did not touch it.

Neither did Jian Wei.

For several seconds, the hidden treatment room beneath the clinic contained only three sounds.

Elder Fan Qingshu’s slow breathing.

The faint vibration of the Life Burial formation.

And water moving through old pipes somewhere inside the wall.

Then Jian finally spoke.

“He called you Little Chen.”

“Yes.”

“Not Ghost Physician.”

“Yes.”

“Not Lu Chen.”

“I noticed.”

Jian’s hand remained near his sword.

His expression had changed completely.

Anyone else using that childhood name might have merely annoyed Lu Chen.

This was different.

Very few people outside the Valley knew it.

Fewer still had known Lu Tianhe personally enough to understand what it meant.

Fan Qingshu looked toward the silent bronze bell.

“He knew your master.”

“Apparently.”

Fan shook his head.

“No.”

Lu Chen looked at him.

The older physician continued.

“Knowing Lu Tianhe existed is one thing. Knowing how he addressed his youngest disciple is another.”

Jian’s jaw tightened.

“He had access to Valley memories.”

“Possibly,” Lu Chen said.

Jian looked irritated.

“You cannot possibly still say possibly.”

“I can.”

“You heard him.”

“I heard a voice use a name.”

Jian stared.

Lu Chen continued calmly.

“If he carries borrowed memories, he may remember things he never personally experienced.”

That stopped him.

The second patient’s old chart had said exactly that.

I remember things that did not happen to me.

Six childhoods.

Foreign memories.

Doors calling him by other people’s names.

Even something as personal as Little Chen might have been stolen.

Fan sighed.

“He’s right.”

Jian looked at him.

“Whose side are you on?”

“The side that prevents both of you from making stupid conclusions.”

“That sounds unpleasantly familiar.”

“You spent too much time with Lu Tianhe.”

“So did you.”

Fan smiled faintly.

“Unfortunately.”

Lu Chen ignored them.

His attention remained on the old stone table.

Two pulse records hovered faintly above it.

One belonged to the second emergency patient from thirty-one years ago.

The other came from the blood Lu Tianhe had preserved from the First Infiltrator.

Same underlying life.

That was established.

Everything else remained uncertain.

He looked at the old continuity record.

“Can we access the historical treatment without reopening the current remote connection?”

Fan’s smile vanished.

“Maybe.”

Jian groaned.

Lu Chen slowly turned toward him.

“Do you want to go upstairs?”

“No.”

“Then suffer quietly.”

Fan pointed toward a narrow engraving beside the physician bell.

“I remember reading about this.”

Lu Chen crouched.

The inscription was nearly invisible beneath soot.

He cleaned it gently.

Three characters.

Past Consultation.

Below them:

Living Connection.

Two separate pathways.

Good.

“So the record distinguishes them.”

“It should.”

“Should?”

Fan gave him a tired look.

“The system is more than thirty years old, partly burned, connected to an ancient Gate network, and was previously exploited to steal Origin Pulse authority.”

He paused.

“I am not giving warranties.”

Fair.

Lu Chen traced the old channels with Life Meridian perception.

The Past Consultation pathway returned inward.

Local.

Contained in the walls and stone record.

The Living Connection pathway extended outward.

Thin.

Cold.

Currently dormant.

Different.

Good.

He placed one silver needle across the second channel.

Not inside it.

Across.

A temporary barrier.

Jian watched.

“What does that do?”

“If the remote connection activates, this should interrupt it.”

“Should.”

“Yes.”

“I hate this room.”

“Good.”

“Why good?”

“Fear improves caution.”

“That is not what Master taught.”

“No. Master often lacked caution.”

Fan laughed weakly.

“True.”

Lu Chen placed a second needle.

Then a third.

A simple isolating triangle around the Living Connection.

No large formation.

No dramatic cultivation.

Only enough Life Essence to distinguish one route from the other.

The physician bell warmed.

Lu Chen immediately removed his finger.

Nothing reached outward.

Good.

Characters formed across the stone.

PAST CONSULTATION AVAILABLE.

Then:

CURRENT LINK ISOLATED.

Jian exhaled.

“That seems unusually cooperative.”

“I don’t trust it either.”

Fan closed his eyes.

“I raised paranoid children.”

“You raised no one,” Jian said.

“I helped.”

“That explains Lu Chen.”

Lu Chen put his finger on the physician bell.

“Quiet.”

One pulse of Life Essence.

The hidden room disappeared.

Rain.

Heavy.

Cold.

Thirty-one years ago.

Lu Chen did not stand inside the memory as himself.

He watched from nowhere.

Not exactly sight.

Not exactly recollection.

A medical imprint.

Fragments preserved because physicians had once believed another physician might need to continue the treatment.

The Eastern River Charity Medical Hall looked different.

Newer.

Smaller.

Oil lamps instead of electric lights.

Rows of dried herbs.

One treatment cot.

A bronze bell hanging beneath the front eave.

Nine leaves carved around its rim.

Someone stumbled through the door.

Gray coat.

Wet hair.

Bare feet.

A man perhaps thirty years old.

His face—

unclear.

Not concealed deliberately.

The memory simply had not preserved faces well.

Medical record.

Not portrait.

Pulse mattered more.

Symptoms mattered more.

The man gripped the door frame.

“Physician.”

A younger voice answered from the back.

“Sit.”

Lu Chen’s heart tightened.

Master.

Lu Tianhe stepped into view.

Younger by decades.

Dark hair.

Simple physician’s robe.

No grand Valley insignia.

No intimidating aura.

A piece of steamed bun was still in his hand.

Jian’s voice whispered from somewhere beside Lu Chen.

“Master.”

The memory did not react.

Lu Tianhe looked at the soaked stranger.

“What happened?”

The man did not sit.

“I need Pei Mingshan.”

Master chewed.

“Are you Pei Mingshan?”

The man’s expression twisted.

“I don’t know.”

Lu Tianhe stopped chewing.

Good answer.

Interesting patient.

“Sit.”

The man obeyed this time.

Master placed two fingers against his wrist.

His expression changed.

“Name.”

“Pei Mingshan.”

Master looked at him.

“You just said you didn’t know.”

“The door says I am.”

“What do you say?”

Silence.

Then:

“I don’t know.”

Master checked the other wrist.

“Birthplace.”

“Yunzhou.”

A pause.

“No.”

The man squeezed his eyes shut.

“Jiangnan.”

Another pause.

“No.”

His breathing accelerated.

“Mountain village. There was a river.”

He grabbed his head.

“No.”

Master immediately pressed one finger between his brows.

“Stop.”

“I remember six mothers.”

“Stop trying.”

“Three fathers.”

“Stop.”

“One of them beat me.”

“None of that matters right now.”

The man looked at him desperately.

“How can it not matter?”

“Because your heart is about to stop.”

Silence.

Master opened his needle case.

The patient grabbed his wrist.

“Don't let me become someone else.”

Lu Tianhe looked down at the hand.

Then at the man.

His voice became calm.

“First, I’m going to keep you alive.”

Three needles.

One at the chest.

One beneath the ribs.

One near the throat.

The same basic medical logic Lu Chen himself had used countless times.

Not the exact technique from Chapter One.

But familiar.

Preserve heart.

Open breath.

Stabilize life.

Master rotated the first needle.

The man screamed.

Multiple Origin Pulse patterns flashed through his body.

Not one.

Several.

Overlapping.

Pei.

Someone else.

Someone else.

Memories.

Permissions.

Recognition.

The clinic bell rang.

Once.

Lu Tianhe looked toward it.

Then back to the patient.

“Who treated you before me?”

“No one.”

“Who altered your pulse?”

“I don’t know.”

“Who gave you Pei Mingshan’s authority?”

“I don’t know!”

The oil lamps flickered.

Master did not raise his voice.

“Then we start with what you do know.”

The man's breathing steadied slightly.

“I hear doors.”

“What do they say?”

“Names.”

“Which names?”

“Whatever they want me to be.”

That was when another man entered.

Older.

Thin.

A physician’s bag over one shoulder.

Snow-white hair despite a face that did not yet look elderly.

He saw the patient.

Stopped.

“Lu Tianhe.”

Master did not turn.

“Canglan.”

Jian’s breath caught.

Ye Canglan.

Confirmed.

The initials.

Y.C.

Su Qingyue’s great-uncle.

Northern House physician.

Valley External Medical Guardian.

Alive thirty-one years ago.

Ye Canglan approached the cot.

“What is this?”

Master answered:

“A disaster.”

“Diagnosis?”

“Not yet.”

Canglan examined the patient’s eyes.

Then pulse.

His face became grim.

“Borrowed identity.”

The patient looked at him.

“Can you remove it?”

Canglan said nothing.

The man’s voice cracked.

“Can you?”

Lu Tianhe adjusted the second needle.

“Not before we know what remains after removal.”

“I remain.”

“Do you know that?”

Silence.

Cruel question.

Necessary.

The man’s eyes filled with fear.

“I am here.”

“Yes,” Lu Tianhe said.

“That is enough for tonight.”

The memory shifted.

Time passed.

Minutes perhaps.

The patient's pulse stabilized.

Ye Canglan opened one of the clinic’s old diagnostic cabinets.

Inside were thin bronze plates.

Each carrying preserved Origin Pulse impressions.

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Continuity records.

Canglan frowned.

“This clinic recognized him as Pei.”

Lu Tianhe glanced over.

“He isn’t.”

“How certain?”

“He has Pei’s authority. He does not have Pei’s life.”

The patient closed his eyes.

“I told you.”

Master looked at him.

“You also told us six childhoods.”

“That is not my fault.”

“I didn’t say it was.”

Important.

No absolution.

No accusation.

Diagnosis first.

Canglan placed one of the bronze records into the diagnostic frame.

“Pei was treated here six years ago.”

“What for?”

“Repository injury.”

Master’s expression changed.

“Then the system retained his Origin Pulse.”

“Yes.”

Canglan looked toward the patient.

“No.”

“What?”

“The clinic may be teaching him.”

Lu Tianhe immediately stood.

“Remove the plate.”

Canglan pulled it out.

Too late.

The stranger convulsed.

His pulse structure changed.

Pei’s pattern spread farther across his channels.

Thirty-one percent.

Then more.

The man screamed.

“Get it out!”

Master drove one needle into an artificial junction near the spiritual heart.

The copied pattern slowed.

The patient grabbed his robe.

“You did this.”

“No.”

“You made it stronger.”

“Yes.”

No defensive lie.

Master accepted it immediately.

The man stared.

Lu Tianhe continued:

“And now I’m going to fix what I can.”

“Fix me?”

“Part of you.”

“Which part?”

Master’s eyes narrowed.

“The part that is killing you.”

“And the names?”

“Later.”

“And the memories?”

“Later.”

“You don’t know how.”

“No.”

Silence.

Master said it plainly.

No arrogance.

No false reassurance.

The patient released his robe.

Strangely—

that honesty calmed him.

Canglan watched the pulse channels.

“His original pattern is still underneath.”

“Can you separate it?”

“Some.”

“Enough to anchor him?”

“Maybe.”

Master looked toward him.

Canglan sighed.

“Yes. I heard myself.”

Despite the tension, Lu Chen almost smiled.

Apparently this word had always haunted the family.

The memory shifted again.

Rain louder.

The stranger lay on the treatment cot.

Three needles remained in place.

Ye Canglan had drawn a simplified meridian map.

At the center—

one pattern.

Unlabeled.

Around it—

foreign layers.

Master pointed.

“This is you.”

The stranger stared.

“You don’t know my name.”

“I don’t need your name to know this pulse existed before Pei’s authority attached to it.”

The man touched the diagram.

“My life.”

“Yes.”

“Can you keep that?”

“That is the plan.”

“And remove the rest?”

“Gradually.”

“How long?”

“Months.”

The man laughed bitterly.

“I don’t have months.”

“Why?”

Silence.

Master looked at him.

“Who is looking for you?”

“No one.”

“Lie.”

“I said no one.”

“Then leave.”

The man froze.

Lu Tianhe began packing needles.

“You are not obligated to trust me.”

The stranger stared.

“But if you want treatment, lying about whatever caused this will kill you faster than I can help.”

Silence.

Then:

“There was a door.”

Canglan looked up.

“What door?”

“I don’t know.”

“Physical?”

“Yes.”

“Where?”

The man shook his head violently.

“I remember opening it.”

“Where?”

“I remember closing it.”

“Where?”

“I remember being on both sides.”

Canglan and Lu Tianhe exchanged a look.

The patient began trembling.

“I remember a city I have never seen.”

His voice cracked.

“A woman calling me son.”

He covered his ears.

“A physician screaming.”

Master caught his wrist.

“Stop.”

“There were bells.”

“Stop.”

“Three—”

“Look at me.”

The man did.

Lu Tianhe’s voice became firm.

“You are in Jiangzhou.”

Breath.

“You are inside the Eastern River Charity Medical Hall.”

Another breath.

“My name is Lu Tianhe.”

The man focused.

“That is real?”

“Yes.”

“How do I know?”

“You don’t.”

The stranger stared.

Master continued:

“But it is the truth I am offering you.”

Something in the patient’s breathing changed.

Grounding.

Not mystical.

Clinical.

Present place.

Present person.

Present fact.

Master pointed at him.

“You do not need to decide who you were tonight.”

A pause.

“You need to survive until morning.”

The patient closed his eyes.

Then nodded.

A knock sounded outside.

Three times.

The memory trembled.

Canglan froze.

Lu Tianhe turned toward the front hall.

“What was that?”

The patient’s eyes opened.

Terror.

“No.”

Another knock.

Three.

The bronze bell beneath the eaves moved without wind.

Once.

Canglan's face changed.

“Gate distress.”

Lu Tianhe looked sharply at him.

“Here?”

“It shouldn’t be.”

The patient sat up.

“No.”

Master pressed him back.

“Stay down.”

“They found me.”

“Who?”

“I don’t know.”

“You keep saying that.”

“Because I don’t!”

The clinic lights flickered.

The diagnostic cabinet opened by itself.

Pei Mingshan’s stored pulse plate slid forward.

The patient screamed before it even activated.

“No!”

Canglan lunged for the cabinet.

Too late.

The bronze plate lit.

Pei’s pattern flooded through the patient.

Thirty-one percent.

Forty.

Fifty.

Sixty-seven.

The stranger’s body arched.

Lu Tianhe drove his third needle deeper.

“Hold him!”

Canglan caught one shoulder.

The patient’s right hand slammed into the diagnostic frame.

Bronze cracked.

Sparks.

Fire.

Not ordinary electricity.

Spiritual discharge.

The front curtains ignited.

Smoke exploded through the hall.

The patient screamed.

His right cheek struck the burning frame.

Skin seared.

He jerked away.

One eye clouded instantly.

There.

The scar.

The eye.

Not a disguise.

At least not originally.

Created here.

The scarred man Lu Chen had chased for twenty-four chapters was born, visually, in this fire.

But the patient was not finished.

He lashed out.

Not accidentally.

His palm struck Ye Canglan in the chest.

Canglan flew backward into the herb cabinet.

The memory shook.

Jian cursed beside Lu Chen.

The patient ripped out one stabilizing needle.

Lu Tianhe caught his wrist.

“Stop!”

“They’re making me Pei!”

“I know!”

“Then let me go!”

“You’ll die.”

“I’d rather die as myself!”

“Do you even know who that is?”

The patient froze.

The question destroyed something in his face.

Then anger replaced fear.

“You said you would help me.”

“I am.”

“By pinning me down?”

“By stopping your heart from tearing itself apart.”

The man tried to strike him.

Master blocked.

No cultivator arrogance.

No counterattack.

A physician controlling a panicking patient.

Then the roof beam cracked.

Fire spread.

Someone outside shouted.

Another explosion.

This one not from the diagnostic frame.

The side wall collapsed inward.

Someone had attacked the clinic from outside.

Important.

The fire was not solely the patient’s doing.

Canglan coughed.

“External strike!”

Lu Tianhe looked toward the breach.

Three silhouettes stood beyond smoke.

Faces obscured.

No visible Black Crescent.

No Upper Court mark.

Older conspiracy.

One silhouette raised a hand.

The patient’s copied Pei authority reacted.

He screamed again.

The artificial grafts tightened like hooks.

Control.

Someone else was pulling.

There.

The patient had not created the technique alone.

He was being acted upon.

But—

he still made his next choice himself.

Lu Tianhe reached toward him.

“Stay with me.”

The stranger looked at Master.

Then toward the breach.

Toward the unknown people.

“Can you cure me?”

Master did not lie.

“Not tonight.”

The stranger’s face twisted.

“Can they?”

“I don’t know.”

The answer was honest.

The patient ripped out the second needle.

Master grabbed him.

“If you leave now, every false identity inside you will continue to strengthen.”

“I cannot stay!”

“You can.”

“They know where I am!”

“Then we move you.”

“You don’t understand.”

“Then explain!”

The stranger looked at him.

Fire reflected in his cloudy eye.

“You treated me first.”

Lu Tianhe stared.

“What?”

“Before Pei.”

The real Pei had not arrived yet.

The patient continued:

“You knew I wasn’t him.”

“Yes.”

“You knew something was wrong.”

“Yes.”

“And you still treated me.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

The clinic ceiling groaned.

Lu Tianhe answered without hesitation.

“Because you were dying first.”

Silence.

Even the stranger stopped.

Master’s voice remained calm.

“When Pei arrives, if he is dying faster, I will treat him first.”

The patient stared.

“There is no judgment in that?”

“There is plenty.”

Master's eyes hardened.

“I think you are dangerous.”

The man flinched.

“I think you are hiding things.”

Another flinch.

“I think you have already hurt people.”

Silence.

“But none of those facts changes your pulse.”

Lu Tianhe pointed to his chest.

“You were dying.”

Then:

“So I treated you.”

The patient’s expression broke.

For one second—

he looked relieved.

Human.

Then the external pull hit again.

Harder.

His copied authority lit.

Pei.

Another name.

Another.

The man screamed.

One of the silhouettes beyond the wall shouted:

“Come!”

The patient looked toward Lu Tianhe.

Then made his choice.

He struck.

Not wild panic this time.

Deliberate.

Palm toward Master’s throat.

Lu Tianhe avoided it by inches.

The patient grabbed a gray physician’s coat hanging beside the doorway.

Turned.

And ran through the broken wall.

Canglan shouted:

“Stop him!”

Master took one step.

Then heard coughing.

A child in the front hall.

A woman trapped behind the collapsed herb shelf.

Two burning rooms.

He stopped.

The patient escaped.

Lu Tianhe turned away from the fleeing man.

Toward the injured.

Physician first.

Again.

The memory fractured.

A later scene.

Real Pei Mingshan entered through smoke at 2:26 a.m.

Right palm burned.

No facial burns.

Breathing hard.

He saw the ruined clinic.

Ye Canglan bleeding.

Lu Tianhe kneeling beside a rescued patient.

Then Pei saw the broken diagnostic cabinet.

His own pulse plate on the floor.

Expression changed.

“What happened?”

Lu Tianhe looked up.

“Someone used your authority.”

“I know.”

“You saw him?”

Pei’s face hardened.

“Yes.”

“Was he wearing your face?”

“No.”

That matched the record.

Pei approached the broken plate.

“Then how did the clinic accept him?”

Canglan answered from the wall.

“Because part of you was inside him.”

Pei became completely still.

“What?”

Lu Tianhe looked toward the direction the stranger fled.

“We treated a man with no stable identity.”

Pei’s voice sharpened.

“You treated him?”

“Yes.”

“He stole my Ninth-Lock authority.”

“He was dying.”

Pei stared at him.

For several seconds, anger filled the room.

Then Pei looked toward the blood on the floor.

The burned treatment cot.

The three stabilizing needles.

He was a physician too.

His anger did not vanish.

But it changed shape.

“Did he know he was carrying me?”

“Yes.”

“Did he ask for it?”

“Unknown.”

“Did he attack you?”

“Yes.”

“Did he leave willingly?”

“Yes.”

“Then illness explains the beginning.”

Pei’s expression became cold.

“It does not excuse the end.”

Lu Tianhe looked at him.

“No.”

There.

The distinction.

Thirty-one years ago.

Already understood.

A patient could be sick.

A patient could also become an enemy.

One truth did not erase the other.

Pei sat on the surviving cot.

His burned palm trembled.

“Treat me.”

Lu Tianhe looked toward the destroyed doorway.

Then back at Pei.

“You are dying second.”

Pei stared.

Canglan began laughing.

Even injured.

Even with the clinic burning.

Pei eventually laughed too.

“Damn you.”

Master opened a fresh needle case.

“Hold still.”

The memory ended.

The hidden chamber returned.

No one spoke.

Jian Wei was staring at the wall.

Fan Qingshu had tears in his eyes.

Lu Chen stood with one hand resting on the stone table.

The phrase from the living infiltrator returned.

Ask your master why he treated me first.

Now they knew.

Not conspiracy.

Not secret allegiance.

Not hidden betrayal.

He had treated the man first because he was dying first.

That simple.

That difficult.

Jian finally exhaled.

“So Master did know him.”

“Yes.”

“And the man attacked him.”

“Yes.”

“Escaped with whoever was outside.”

“Yes.”

“And still remembers being treated.”

“Yes.”

Fan wiped one eye.

“He remembers the only person in that room who looked at him and saw a patient.”

Lu Chen did not answer immediately.

Maybe.

Or he remembered a weakness he could exploit.

Both possible.

Jian looked toward him.

“You are still refusing to give him sympathy.”

“No.”

“What?”

“I have sympathy.”

That surprised him.

Lu Chen looked toward the old pulse record.

“A man could not remember which childhood belonged to him.”

Silence.

“He asked physicians to remove foreign memories.”

Lu Chen's voice remained calm.

“That is suffering.”

Then his eyes hardened.

“He later helped destroy the Valley.”

“Yes.”

“He used Zhou Kai.”

“Yes.”

“He wore dead people’s authority.”

“Yes.”

“Probably much worse we have not discovered.”

Jian nodded.

Lu Chen continued:

“His illness deserves treatment.”

Pause.

“His choices deserve consequences.”

Fan smiled faintly.

“Your master would agree.”

“I know.”

The stone table changed.

Another record appeared.

Not thirty-one years old.

Newer.

Five years.

Lu Chen recognized the handwriting before the first sentence finished forming.

Lu Tianhe.

A later addendum.

His chest tightened.

Jian stepped beside him.

“When did he write this?”

The date appeared.

Four months after Valley Fall.

Silence.

Bai Shuyue had seen Lu Tianhe in Jiangzhou around the same period.

Confirmation.

Master had returned here.

After the massacre.

After Lu Chen believed him lost.

The message began:

Chen’er.

Lu Chen closed his eyes briefly.

Of course.

Then read.

If you are reading this, the old continuity room has awakened.

That means either the patient returned, the Gate network woke, or you broke something while poking where I told you not to poke.

Jian smiled despite himself.

“Definitely Master.”

Lu Chen continued.

If it is the third possibility, I am disappointed but not surprised.

“Still Master.”

“Quiet.”

Next:

The man in Case Two was ill.

Then:

Do not romanticize that.

Lu Chen’s expression changed.

Exactly.

He was also dangerous.

Do not use that to erase the illness.

Jian went quiet.

Master continued:

I treated him because he was dying.

Later, I hunted him because he killed people.

There.

Perfect distinction.

A physician and a judge may occupy the same body at different hours. The mistake is allowing the judge to decide whether the physician should stop the bleeding.

Lu Chen read that twice.

Then:

If you ever face the same choice, decide which role you are performing before you move your hand.

The Tenth Life.

Guo Shan.

When Lu Chen believed the patient might be Yan Wusheng.

He had already faced it.

His master’s earlier inheritance letter had asked the same question in another form.

Not coincidence.

A philosophy refined over decades.

Jian looked toward him.

“You already did.”

“Yes.”

“Did Master know you would?”

“No.”

Good.

Do not make him omniscient.

“He knew the kind of choice that eventually reaches every physician.”

Better.

The addendum continued.

I never learned Patient Two’s birth name.

By the time he reached Eastern River, too many foreign memory fragments had fused with his own.

We found an underlying Origin Pulse but no uncontaminated identity record.

Then:

The original name may no longer matter medically.

Interesting.

A name is useful for history. The Life Meridian is useful for treatment.

Lu Chen nodded.

Exactly.

Then:

What happened to him was not created by Upper Court.

Jian’s expression sharpened.

There.

Major answer.

At least, not originally.

Good qualification.

By the time I traced him into Upper Court channels years later, they had learned to reproduce parts of his condition deliberately.

Borrowed Pulse surgeries.

Identity grafts.

Inner Ledger.

Registrar.

Upper Court weaponized what had begun as disease.

Master wrote:

I never proved whether Upper Court learned from him, from the people who controlled him that night, or from the continuity technology itself.

Good.

No final answer.

Then:

Do not assume Patient Two founded anything merely because he appears early in the record.

Excellent.

First infiltrator does not equal summit.

He may have been the first patient we discovered. He was not necessarily the first case.

That widened the mystery without exploding it.

Lu Chen continued.

The people outside Eastern River that night knew how to pull on the foreign authorities inside him.

That means someone understood his condition before Canglan and I did.

The three silhouettes.

Older organization.

Before Black Crescent.

Before current Upper Court.

Possibly related to Gate wardens.

Unknown.

Then:

The question is not only who made him dangerous.

Ask why anyone needed a person who could become recognizable as someone else.

Jian exhaled slowly.

A living key.

A person who could cross identity-locked systems.

Repositories.

Gates.

Medical vaults.

Organizations.

The perfect infiltrator.

Next section.

Different subject.

About the building.

Lu Chen became still.

Jian immediately looked at him.

Master continued:

If you survived and reached Jiangzhou, I asked an old property agent to make this place available.

There.

Confirmed.

I did not know whether you would take it.

Good.

Not fate.

Not perfect planning.

A contingency.

I did not order anyone to force you here.

You were always stubborn enough to ruin plans that depended on obedience.

Jian laughed.

“He knew you.”

Lu Chen ignored him.

The building was cheap because I made sure it was cheap.

Lu Chen stared.

Five years of believing he had negotiated brilliantly.

Fraud.

Absolute fraud.

Jian saw his face.

“What?”

“I negotiated the price.”

“And?”

“Apparently not.”

Jian started laughing harder.

“Do not.”

“You spent five years believing you defeated an old landlord.”

“Senior Brother.”

Fan Qingshu joined the laughter.

Lu Chen considered abandoning both underground.

Master’s writing continued:

If you are angry about the sale price, consider it unpaid salary.

Lu Chen stared at the line.

“Damn old man.”

Jian wiped his eyes.

Master continued:

I hoped you would live here without ever opening the room.

The laughter stopped.

That would have meant the old patient never returned and the Gate network stayed asleep.

Then:

But if the call came again, I wanted a physician above it.

Lu Chen looked toward the ceiling.

His clinic.

His consultation table.

Xiaoxiao’s crayon signs.

Five years of ordinary life.

Master had not placed him here merely to hide.

He had prepared the possibility that one day—

someone might need to answer.

Not a warrior.

Not an heir.

A physician.

The note continued:

I did not know what your cultivation would look like after the Valley.

I did not know whether the Heaven-Reversing Life Art would survive inside you.

Important.

Master had not known Lu Chen would recover.

I only knew that even without cultivation, you would still treat patients.

Lu Chen did not move.

That line hit harder than all the others.

Jian looked away.

Fan closed his eyes.

Master had known his disciple.

Not his future.

His character.

Different thing.

The final section appeared.

If Patient Two contacts Eastern River again, do not answer through a borrowed name.

Lu Chen’s eyes sharpened.

The continuity system can be corrected.

Good.

Pei and Canglan helped design the correction before Pei’s true death.

So real Pei had worked on a countermeasure during those hidden years.

It was never completed because we lacked a stable sample of Patient Two’s underlying Origin Pulse.

Jian immediately looked at the crystal vial.

Now they had it.

Master had preserved the sample later.

If you possess both the old patient imprint and a later blood sample from the same life, the clinic can distinguish LIFE from NAME.

Lu Chen smiled faintly.

There.

A concrete solution.

Do not erase the patient record.

Of course.

Erase the clinic’s willingness to recognize borrowed identity as proof of life.

Medicine correcting medicine.

Perfect.

The instructions were technical.

Not mystical.

Three continuity needles.

One authentic old patient imprint.

One later biological sample.

Life Essence used as comparison medium.

Returning Spring only if the clinic attempted to prioritize inherited authority over the underlying pulse.

Jian read over his shoulder.

“That sounds manageable.”

Lu Chen looked at him.

“You are not touching anything.”

“Why?”

“You just said manageable.”

“That seems unfair.”

“Yes.”

They began.

Old patient pulse on the left.

Preserved infiltrator blood on the right.

Same life.

Thirty-one years apart.

Everything between them—

borrowed.

Lu Chen activated the Life Seed.

Golden threads connected the two records.

Not their names.

Not their authorities.

Only what remained constant.

Underlying Origin Pulse.

One unusual break between the seventh and eighth secondary branches.

The three-way spiritual-heart junction.

The same base rhythm.

Life.

The stone table responded.

LIFE CONTINUITY VERIFIED.

Then:

REGISTERED NAMES: CONFLICTING.

List after list appeared.

PEI MINGSHAN

Another identity.

Burned away.

Another.

Blocked.

Seven total channels.

Some names unavailable because the original records had been destroyed.

Good.

No premature reveals.

Then:

SELECT PRIMARY RECOGNITION STANDARD.

Three options formed in old medical script:

NAME

AUTHORITY

ORIGIN PULSE

Lu Chen did not hesitate.

Origin Pulse.

The system resisted.

Of course.

Old protocols had been built around authority.

Pei’s copied permission flared.

Then Luo Shen.

Shen Tuo.

Other dead identities.

The room brightened.

Jian’s hand moved toward his sword.

Lu Chen said:

“Not yet.”

The clinic attempted to recognize Pei.

The real Pei’s historical patient record responded.

Conflict.

Good.

Lu Chen placed Returning Spring across the stone table.

The sword hummed.

A memory of Master’s voice seemed to linger in the metal.

Not words.

Recognition.

The old clinic had known Returning Spring.

The authority channels weakened.

Lu Chen fed Life Essence into the underlying pulse.

“Your name is not Pei Mingshan.”

The system flickered.

Not speaking to the man.

Speaking to the record.

“Your authority is not your life.”

Another flicker.

Jian watched silently.

“Your memories are not proof of birth.”

The borrowed channels began separating.

Then the remote connection awakened.

The living patient had noticed.

Cold flooded the room.

The bell vibrated.

A voice—

faint.

“You’re changing it.”

Lu Chen did not answer.

The remote patient pulled.

Hard.

Seven graft channels tightened.

The clinic tried to return to authority recognition.

Lu Chen’s reopened meridian burned.

His Life Seed was not fully recovered from the Gate treatment.

Limits.

Fine.

This did not require power.

It required precision.

He reduced output.

Jian frowned.

“You’re using less.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because more would strengthen everything.”

He followed the smallest common pulse.

The underlying life.

Not Pei.

Not Luo.

Not Shen.

Not any stolen name.

One living thread.

There.

He anchored it.

The voice returned.

“Little Chen.”

No reaction.

“You think your master wanted this?”

Lu Chen continued working.

“He tried to save me.”

Silence.

That was harder to ignore.

Lu Chen looked toward the cold bell.

“Yes.”

The room went still.

First time he answered.

The voice softened.

“Then why are you cutting me away?”

“I’m not.”

The infiltrator went silent.

Lu Chen rotated the first continuity needle.

“I’m cutting Pei away from you.”

Second needle.

“Luo.”

Third.

“Shen.”

The borrowed channels snapped back one by one.

Not destroyed globally.

Only rejected by this clinic.

The voice became angry.

“Those names kept me alive.”

“Maybe.”

“They opened doors.”

“Yes.”

“They gave me somewhere to exist.”

Lu Chen paused.

There.

Thirty-one years of identity dependence.

Not just tactical.

Psychological.

Perhaps structural.

But he continued.

“This clinic is not a door for them anymore.”

The voice became quiet.

“What am I here, then?”

For the first time—

the question sounded like the patient from thirty-one years ago.

Not the infiltrator.

Not the enemy.

The man who remembered six mothers.

Lu Chen looked at the underlying pulse.

“Unfinished Patient Two.”

Silence.

No name.

No stolen authority.

Just a patient record.

The man laughed.

Very softly.

“That is cruel.”

“No.”

Lu Chen adjusted the final needle.

“It’s accurate.”

Then the stone table flashed.

PRIMARY RECOGNITION STANDARD UPDATED.

ORIGIN PULSE.

Below:

BORROWED AUTHORITY WILL NO LONGER ESTABLISH PATIENT IDENTITY.

The seven graft channels disappeared from the clinic record.

The remote link trembled.

The voice spoke one last time.

“You think this closes anything?”

“No.”

The infiltrator seemed surprised.

Lu Chen continued:

“It closes my clinic to your stolen names.”

A pause.

“Nothing more.”

The voice laughed again.

Not happily.

“You really are his disciple.”

Lu Chen looked at Returning Spring.

“No.”

Then toward the stairs.

Toward Xiaoxiao’s home.

“I’m mine.”

The connection severed.

The physician bell went dark.

Completely.

No frost.

No knock.

No distant pulse.

The hidden room settled.

For the first time since it opened, the stone channels felt dormant.

Not dead.

Safe enough.

The continuity system displayed one final entry:

CASE TWO — HISTORICAL RECORD PRESERVED

CURRENT REMOTE AUTHORITY REJECTED

Then:

CONTINUITY STATUS: CLOSED PENDING VOLUNTARY PATIENT RETURN

Lu Chen read that carefully.

Voluntary.

Interesting.

If the man ever physically returned asking for treatment—

the clinic would still accept him as a patient.

By Origin Pulse.

Not stolen name.

Good.

That was exactly right.

Jian stared.

“You left the case open for treatment.”

“Yes.”

“He destroyed our Valley.”

“Yes.”

“He may have killed our people.”

“Yes.”

“You would treat him.”

“If he came as a patient.”

“And afterward?”

Lu Chen looked at him.

“That depends on what else he comes as.”

Jian smiled slowly.

“Master would approve.”

“Master is not voting.”

Fan chuckled from the bed.

“Definitely his disciple.”

Lu Chen ignored both.

The old continuity room had one more secret.

Not dramatic.

A small drawer beneath the stone table.

Inside—

receipts.

Property deeds.

Clinic registrations.

Old physician notes.

And one folded envelope.

Lu Chen opened it.

A property-agent contract.

Five years ago.

One instruction:

If Lu Chen seeks a clinic in Jiangzhou, make Eastern River property available at below-market rate. Do not contact him directly. If he refuses, leave him alone.

Signed:

L.T.

Lu Chen stared.

Jian began laughing again.

“You really didn’t negotiate.”

“I lowered the price forty percent.”

“It was already lowered.”

“I made the agent remove another five.”

Jian stopped laughing.

“Actually?”

“Yes.”

Fan smiled.

“Then perhaps you still won.”

Lu Chen considered.

Better.

He folded the contract carefully.

He would keep it.

Mostly as evidence.

Possibly to complain to Master if the old man was alive.

Especially to complain.

Before leaving the chamber, Lu Chen examined Elder Fan.

Pulse.

Temperature.

Life Burial formation.

Stable.

The old man looked tired.

“Sleep.”

“I’ve slept for five years.”

“Poorly.”

“You sound like Lu Tianhe.”

“That is becoming insulting.”

Fan smiled.

Then his expression turned serious.

“Lu Chen.”

“Yes?”

“The man in Case Two.”

“What?”

“He asked to be cured once.”

“Yes.”

“Do not let that make you underestimate what he became.”

“I won’t.”

“And do not let what he became make you lie about what he was.”

Lu Chen nodded.

“I won’t.”

Fan relaxed.

“Good.”

Then:

“Now bring me noodles tomorrow.”

“You don’t need noodles.”

“I have been preserved under your clinic for five years.”

“Yes.”

“I deserve noodles.”

“Medically false.”

“Uncle Chen’s.”

“Too salty.”

Fan stared.

“Your father raised you badly.”

Lu Chen’s expression changed.

“Master.”

Fan blinked.

“Yes. Master.”

Jian started laughing again.

“Careful, Senior Uncle.”

Fan closed his eyes.

“I have been underground too long.”

Good.

Even he could make mistakes.

Important.

At 9:41 p.m., Lu Chen reopened the clinic door.

The neighborhood looked ordinary.

Uncle Chen’s noodle shop was closing.

Madam Zhou was arguing with someone over the price of oranges.

A motorcycle passed.

A dog barked at nothing.

For once, nothing supernatural responded.

Then a small figure came running from across the street.

“Daddy!”

Lu Chen barely had time to crouch before Xiaoxiao collided with him.

He lifted her.

“You were supposed to stay at the apartment.”

“Pretty Auntie brought me back.”

“Which one?”

Xiaoxiao pointed.

Both.

Qin Ruoxi stood near the curb.

Su Qingyue beside her.

Lin Yue farther back.

Lu Chen looked toward Ruoxi.

“You brought Su here too?”

Su answered:

“I brought myself.”

Of course.

Xiaoxiao touched his face.

“You look tired.”

“I am.”

“Did the wall eat you?”

“No.”

“Patient?”

Lu Chen carried her inside.

The others followed.

“He was real.”

“The bad sick man?”

Lu Chen stopped.

Children remembered everything.

“Yes.”

Xiaoxiao leaned against his shoulder.

“Did you help him?”

“Not exactly.”

“Why?”

“He wasn’t here.”

She thought.

“Then how was he patient?”

Good question.

“Old medical record.”

“Oh.”

Apparently that explained everything.

Then she asked:

“Can someone be sick and bad?”

The clinic became quiet.

Ruoxi looked toward Lu Chen.

Su did too.

Jian had arrived behind them carrying the old medical case.

Even he stopped.

Lu Chen looked at his daughter.

“Yes.”

Xiaoxiao frowned.

“If they’re sick, you help them.”

“Yes.”

“If they’re bad, you stop them.”

“Yes.”

Her frown deepened.

“What if same person?”

There it was.

The entire first mini-arc reduced to a four-year-old’s question.

Lu Chen set her on the consultation table.

“You treat the sickness.”

She listened.

“And stop the bad thing.”

Xiaoxiao considered.

“Same time?”

“If possible.”

“And if not?”

Lu Chen looked toward the hidden floor beneath them.

Toward the man who had once begged to keep his own memories.

Toward the infiltrator who later helped destroy the Valley.

“Then you decide which problem is killing someone first.”

Xiaoxiao nodded.

Simple.

“Like Daddy.”

He smiled faintly.

“Something like that.”

She immediately held out her hand.

“Strawberry milk.”

Of course.

He took one from the bag he had brought earlier.

She accepted it.

Then:

“Tax.”

“You already took dumpling tax yesterday.”

“New day.”

“That is not how taxes work.”

Ruoxi laughed.

Su Qingyue sat in one of the patient chairs.

“Actually—”

Lu Chen pointed toward her.

“Do not encourage her.”

“I was going to agree with you.”

He paused.

“Unexpected.”

Su’s eyes narrowed.

“Never mind.”

Dinner happened late.

Again.

Uncle Chen contributed noodles despite medical objections.

Madam Zhou brought vegetables to compensate.

Jian Wei ate like someone who had spent five years forgetting normal food existed.

Su Qingyue stayed because Xiaoxiao informed her that leaving before dessert was “rude.”

Qin Ruoxi stayed because apparently she lived at the clinic now.

Lin Yue stayed because Su stayed.

Lu Chen eventually stopped fighting it.

The tiny clinic was too full.

Too loud.

Too warm.

Good.

At one point, Xiaoxiao looked toward Jian.

“Uncle.”

Jian paused with noodles halfway to his mouth.

He still had not adjusted to the title.

“Yes?”

“Were you and Daddy naughty when small?”

Lu Chen immediately said:

“No.”

Jian immediately said:

“Yes.”

Xiaoxiao’s eyes widened.

“Stories.”

“No,” Lu Chen said.

Jian smiled.

“So many.”

“Senior Brother.”

“There was the furnace.”

“No.”

“The rabbit apples.”

“No.”

“The medicine pond.”

Lu Chen slowly put down his chopsticks.

Jian reconsidered his continued survival.

“Another time.”

Xiaoxiao looked delighted.

Lu Chen did not.

Su Qingyue watched the exchange.

For the first time since entering Lu Chen’s life, she was seeing part of him that existed before the ruined Valley.

Not Ghost Physician.

Not mysterious cultivator.

A troublesome disciple.

A younger brother.

Family.

She said nothing.

That was appropriate.

After dessert, Su handed Lu Chen her baseline notebook.

“Evening entry.”

He opened it.

19:12 — irritation.

“Cause?”

She looked at him.

“You.”

“Useful.”

19:38 — laughter.

He looked up.

Su’s expression cooled.

“Xiaoxiao.”

“I didn’t ask.”

“You were going to.”

He checked her Life Meridian.

The first three Cold Nails were stable.

The six protective anchors calm.

The maternal blood pathways showed less contraction than yesterday.

Interesting.

“What?”

Su asked.

“Better.”

Her expression changed.

“How much?”

“Small.”

“Because of the records?”

“Maybe.”

She sighed.

He almost smiled.

“Also because you’re identifying your emotional states instead of suppressing all of them.”

Her gaze sharpened.

“That sounds suspiciously like therapy.”

“It’s physiology.”

“Better.”

Ruoxi heard from across the room.

“You both need therapy.”

Lu Chen and Su simultaneously looked at her.

“No.”

Ruoxi laughed.

At 10:23 p.m., everyone finally began leaving.

Jian was last.

He stood at the clinic door.

The neighborhood quiet behind him.

“First case closed.”

Lu Chen looked toward the floor.

“Yes.”

“Patient Two still alive.”

“Yes.”

“Master survived at least months after Valley.”

“Yes.”

“We know Upper Court didn’t originate the condition.”

“Yes.”

“We know someone was manipulating Patient Two before Eastern River.”

“Yes.”

“And we still don’t know his name.”

“No.”

Jian smiled.

“You must hate that.”

“No.”

“Liar.”

“A little.”

Jian looked toward the stairs where Xiaoxiao had already gone to bed.

Then back to Lu Chen.

“Feels like we reached the end of something.”

Lu Chen considered.

The first patient.

Qin Zhenguo collapsing outside a hotel.

Three needles.

A deliberate knot.

Then Zhou Wei.

Han.

Bai Shuyue.

Upper Court.

The Valley.

Returning Spring.

Pei.

Jian.

The archive.

The Third Bell.

The old clinic.

All of it had led here.

Not to the final enemy.

Not even close.

But to the first answer that truly changed how Lu Chen understood the conspiracy.

The Valley had not simply been destroyed by an organization.

For decades, someone had been turning medicine into access.

Patients into keys.

Identity into infrastructure.

The disease began long before the massacre.

And at least one of its first known victims had later become part of the disease himself.

“Yes,” Lu Chen said.

“Something ended.”

Jian nodded.

“And tomorrow?”

“Clinic opens at eight.”

Jian stared.

“That's your answer?”

“Yes.”

“You discovered a thirty-one-year conspiracy.”

“Patients still get headaches.”

Jian laughed.

“Definitely Master’s disciple.”

Lu Chen closed the door in his face.

At 10:41 p.m., Xiaoxiao was in bed.

Not asleep.

Naturally.

Lu Chen entered.

She opened one eye.

“Story.”

“You are supposed to be sleeping.”

“Story helps.”

“That is manipulation.”

“Yes.”

At least she was honest.

He sat beside her.

“What story?”

“The bad sick patient.”

“No.”

“Why?”

“Not bedtime material.”

“Rabbit?”

Lu Chen thought.

“Fine.”

He told her about a rabbit that believed it was a tiger.

The rabbit entered a forest.

Everyone treated it like a tiger because it wore a striped coat.

Eventually the rabbit forgot whether it was a rabbit.

Xiaoxiao listened carefully.

“Then?”

“A doctor found it.”

“What doctor?”

“A very handsome one.”

Xiaoxiao frowned.

“That’s Daddy.”

“Correct.”

She smiled.

“What did doctor do?”

Lu Chen paused.

Then:

“He took off the coat.”

“What if rabbit wanted coat?”

“Then they talked.”

“What if rabbit bites?”

“Then the doctor stops it from biting.”

“And still helps?”

“If he can.”

Xiaoxiao thought.

Then yawned.

“Did rabbit become rabbit?”

Lu Chen looked toward the dark window.

“I don’t know.”

“That’s bad story.”

“It’s unfinished.”

She closed her eyes.

“Finish later.”

“I’ll try.”

Within a minute, she was asleep.

Lu Chen remained beside her.

For once, he did not think about Heaven.

Or Gates.

Or the First Infiltrator.

He pulled the blanket over her shoulder.

Then went downstairs.

The clinic was dark.

Quiet.

The physician bell beneath the floor remained silent.

Good.

Lu Chen sat behind the consultation table.

Fifty yuan.

No credit.

Children free if they brought candy.

Pretty Auntie discount had unfortunately survived.

Cold Pretty Auntie free with strawberry milk had also survived.

He needed better governance.

His phone vibrated.

Qin Ruoxi.

She had left less than twenty minutes ago.

Lu Chen answered.

“What?”

Her voice was serious.

“Grandfather.”

Lu Chen sat straighter.

“What happened?”

“Dr. Zhao says he’s physically stable.”

“Then?”

“The memory seal behind his ear changed.”

Lu Chen’s eyes narrowed.

“How?”

“Part of the old knot loosened after you closed the Eastern River continuity case.”

Connection.

Possible.

“What does he remember?”

Silence.

Then Ruoxi answered:

“Pei Mingshan.”

Lu Chen became still.

“The real Pei?”

“Grandfather says yes.”

“How?”

“He says Pei visited him after the Eastern River fire.”

Interesting.

“What did Pei want?”

Ruoxi paused.

Then:

“He asked the Qin family to hide something.”

Lu Chen’s expression changed.

“What?”

“Grandfather can’t remember yet.”

Of course.

“But he remembers one sentence.”

“Exact words.”

Ruoxi repeated carefully:

“If the physician forgets, the Qin family must remember.”

Silence.

Lu Chen looked toward the old clinic floor.

The first mini-arc had ended.

The next question had already arrived.

And this time—

the Qin family stood at its center.