Chapter 5 — The Patient Who Brought a Coffin

The gray-coated man stopped three steps from the clinic door.

He did not enter immediately.

Instead, he looked through the broken window.

At Wei Jun.

At Qin Ruoxi.

At the two Qin bodyguards.

And finally at Lu Chen, who sat behind his old consultation desk with a cup of tea in his hand.

Steward Han smiled.

“So it really is you.”

Lu Chen took another sip.

“You're blocking the doorway.”

The smile on Han's face deepened.

Five men stood behind him.

Not ordinary bodyguards.

Wei Jun recognized two of them immediately.

His expression became pale.

“Doctor Lu…”

Lu Chen didn't look away from the man at the entrance.

“What?”

“The one with the scar.”

“Yes?”

“Seventh layer of Body Tempering.”

Ruoxi glanced at Wei Jun.

“And Han?”

Wei Jun swallowed.

“I don't know.”

That answer bothered her far more than a number would have.

Steward Han stepped inside.

His polished shoes crunched over the remaining fragments of glass.

He looked around.

“What a disappointing place.”

Lu Chen raised an eyebrow.

“You came for interior design?”

“I expected more.”

“From a clinic?”

“From the legendary Ghost Physician.”

The name no longer startled anyone in the room.

Not after the night they had just experienced.

Still, Qin Ruoxi watched Lu Chen carefully.

The more people used that title, the more she realized how little she actually knew about the man sitting in front of her.

Han stopped beside the consultation table.

“Five years.”

Lu Chen said nothing.

“Five years without a single confirmed sighting.”

Still nothing.

“We searched provinces.”

Lu Chen placed his cup down.

“That sounds expensive.”

“We searched sect territories. Martial families. Underground clinics. Border cities.”

“You should ask for a refund.”

A slight twitch appeared at the corner of Han's mouth.

“You really haven't changed.”

Lu Chen's eyes sharpened.

“You've never met me.”

Han paused.

Not long.

But long enough.

Lu Chen noticed.

So did Ruoxi.

Interesting.

Han recovered immediately.

“I've heard enough stories.”

“Stories grow in the telling.”

“Perhaps.”

His gaze shifted toward Wei Jun.

“And some rats grow brave when they believe they've found a new master.”

Wei Jun clenched his jaw.

Han looked almost amused.

“I told you what would happen if you ran.”

Wei Jun's face tightened.

“You tried to kill me.”

“I corrected a mistake.”

“You call me a mistake?”

“No.”

Han's smile disappeared.

“Hiring you was the mistake.”

One of the men behind him laughed.

Wei Jun's hands curled into fists.

Lu Chen tapped one finger against the table.

“This is a clinic.”

Han looked toward him.

“So?”

“If you want to argue with my patient, do it outside.”

Wei Jun stared.

Patient.

The word struck harder than he expected.

Han seemed entertained.

“You consider him your patient?”

“For the moment.”

“He helped us flush you out.”

“I know.”

“He helped poison Qin Zhenguo.”

“I know.”

“He would have watched innocent people die for money.”

“I know.”

Han leaned slightly forward.

“And you saved him anyway.”

Lu Chen's expression didn't change.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because he was dying.”

“That simple?”

“For a doctor?”

“Yes.”

Han studied him.

Then laughed softly.

“No wonder your Valley was destroyed.”

The room changed.

It was subtle.

No explosion.

No murderous aura.

No violent movement.

Lu Chen simply stopped tapping his finger.

Ruoxi felt it.

Wei Jun definitely felt it.

Even Han's men became quieter.

Han noticed as well.

He smiled.

“There.”

His eyes gleamed.

“I wondered whether anything was left.”

Lu Chen looked at him.

“Be careful.”

“Is that a threat?”

“Advice.”

“From a cripple?”

Wei Jun looked toward Lu Chen instinctively.

The word hung in the air.

Han continued.

“Your dantian was shattered.”

Silence.

“Your major meridians were broken.”

Lu Chen's gaze remained calm.

“Your spiritual foundation collapsed five years ago.”

Ruoxi slowly turned toward him.

She understood very little about cultivation.

But she understood the meaning of cripple.

Han spread his hands.

“And yet here you are.”

He looked around the clinic.

“Selling herbal medicine to old women.”

Lu Chen smiled faintly.

“They pay better than assassins.”

One of Han's men snorted.

Han did not.

“You should have stayed dead.”

“So I've been told.”

“You had your chance.”

“At what?”

“To disappear.”

Lu Chen leaned back.

“I did.”

“No.”

Han pointed toward Wei Jun.

“You interfered.”

“You poisoned people in my city.”

Han's expression became amused again.

“Your city?”

Lu Chen shook his head.

“My patients.”

For the first time, Han's eyes became genuinely cold.

“This is precisely why physicians become troublesome.”

“Patients?”

“Attachment.”

Lu Chen looked at him.

“Interesting philosophy.”

“It is reality.”

“No.”

Lu Chen's gaze moved slowly from Han's face down to his chest.

“Your reality is considerably shorter than you think.”

Han's smile faded.

“What did you say?”

Lu Chen didn't answer immediately.

His eyes had already changed.

The world around Han became translucent.

Skin.

Muscle.

Blood vessels.

Then the deeper golden network of the Life Meridian.

Lu Chen expected to see strong channels.

Instead—

his expression almost changed.

Almost.

Han's meridians were indeed stronger than Wei Jun's.

Far stronger.

His blood flowed with trained internal force.

His muscles carried the density of someone who had spent decades tempering his body.

But beneath the strength—

rot.

A dark green-black stain had taken root below the left lung.

Thin tendrils reached toward his heart.

Another cluster wrapped around the lower dantian.

And one line had already begun creeping upward through the spine.

Han wasn't healthy.

He was dying.

Slowly.

And he didn't know it.

Lu Chen's gaze returned to his face.

“How long have your hands been going numb?”

Han went still.

Nobody else reacted immediately.

Then Ruoxi saw the minute change in his expression.

Lu Chen continued.

“Mostly at night.”

Han said nothing.

“Left hand first.”

Silence.

“Then the right.”

One of the men behind Han looked toward his master.

Han's voice lost its amusement.

“Cheap tricks.”

Lu Chen nodded.

“Your chest hurts after circulating internal force for more than twenty minutes.”

Han's eyes narrowed.

“You've developed a metallic taste after meditation.”

No response.

“You wake between two and three in the morning because you can't breathe.”

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One of Han's hands slowly closed.

Lu Chen's eyes dropped toward it.

“And three days ago, blood appeared beneath your fingernails.”

Han's hand immediately went behind his back.

Too late.

Everyone had seen the movement.

Wei Jun's eyes widened.

He had worked beneath Steward Han for months.

He had never seen the man uncertain.

Not once.

Lu Chen picked up his tea.

“Am I still using cheap tricks?”

Han stared at him.

“What did you do?”

Lu Chen almost laughed.

“To you?”

His expression became mildly offended.

“Nothing.”

Han took one step forward.

The men behind him tensed.

“What did you do?”

“I haven't touched you.”

“You expect me to believe—”

“Lift your left arm.”

Han stopped.

Lu Chen nodded toward it.

“Go ahead.”

Han's eyes became suspicious.

“Why?”

“Humor me.”

For several seconds, nothing happened.

Then Han slowly raised the arm.

Shoulder level.

Higher.

His face changed.

The arm trembled.

At roughly seventy degrees above the shoulder, it stopped.

Han tried to force it higher.

Pain flashed across his expression.

His arm dropped.

Ruoxi stared.

Wei Jun whispered:

“What…”

Lu Chen set his tea down.

“You're dying.”

Nobody spoke.

The words were almost casual.

Han's face became expressionless.

“My body has been tempered for thirty years.”

“Yes.”

“I am not sick.”

“Also yes.”

Han frowned.

Ruoxi couldn't resist.

“How can both be true?”

Lu Chen glanced at her.

“Sickness isn't the only thing that kills people.”

Then his attention returned to Han.

“You practice a yin-based cultivation technique.”

Han's face did not move.

“Your right palm is stronger than your left.”

Nothing.

“When you circulate energy, you begin from the Lesser Yin channel rather than the usual lower dantian cycle.”

Wei Jun looked confused.

Han didn't.

That was answer enough.

“Your technique probably promises faster Body Tempering by using corpse yin or some similar external energy source.”

For the first time, Han's calm cracked.

“How do you know that?”

Lu Chen sighed.

“So unimaginative.”

“What?”

“I've seen six versions.”

Han stared.

“Four were better.”

The men behind him looked increasingly uncomfortable.

Lu Chen continued.

“The technique strengthens flesh quickly because your body uses yin energy to force impurities outward.”

Han's jaw tightened.

“But it doesn't remove all of them.”

He pointed toward Han's left chest.

“It stores the residue.”

Han's hand moved unconsciously toward the location.

“Years of accumulation.”

Lu Chen then pointed lower.

“Another deposit around the dantian.”

Han didn't breathe.

“And now both have connected.”

The room was utterly silent.

Lu Chen held up one finger.

“Best case?”

Han waited.

“Three months.”

One of the men behind him scoffed.

“Our master—”

“Worst case?”

Han interrupted.

His subordinate fell silent.

Lu Chen considered.

“Seven days.”

Han's face darkened.

“That is a rather large difference.”

“Depends whether you keep circulating your technique.”

“And if I stop?”

“The residue continues spreading.”

“So I die either way.”

“Yes.”

Han stared at him.

Then smiled again.

But this smile was different.

Forced.

“You expect me to believe that the moment I find the Ghost Physician, he conveniently discovers a fatal illness?”

“No.”

Lu Chen shook his head.

“I expect you to believe your own body.”

Han's eyes narrowed.

Lu Chen pointed toward the center of his chest.

“Press two fingers beneath the fifth rib.”

Han didn't move.

“Unless you're afraid.”

One of the men behind Han stepped forward angrily.

“You—”

Han raised a hand.

The man stopped.

Slowly, Han placed two fingers where Lu Chen indicated.

He pressed.

Nothing.

His expression relaxed slightly.

Then Lu Chen said:

“Harder.”

Han pressed again.

Pain hit him like a knife.

His entire body jerked.

His face lost color.

He removed his hand instantly.

A cough erupted.

Once.

Twice.

On the third cough—

a dark drop of blood landed on the clinic floor.

Nobody moved.

Han stared down.

The blood wasn't red.

It carried a faint green-black tint.

Wei Jun whispered:

“Master Han…”

Han looked up sharply.

“Don't call me that.”

Wei Jun immediately fell silent.

Lu Chen reached into a drawer.

He removed a small glass vial.

“Spit.”

Han's expression became dangerous.

“What?”

“Into the vial.”

One of the bodyguards near the door nearly smiled.

Han looked toward Lu Chen as if deciding whether killing him was worth the effort.

Then another pain crossed his chest.

Decision made.

He spat into the vial.

Lu Chen held it against the morning light.

Dark particles drifted through the saliva.

Like ash.

“Yin Rot.”

Han's pupils contracted.

So he knew the term.

Good.

Lu Chen placed the vial down.

“You've heard of it.”

Han said nothing.

“You probably thought it was a myth.”

Silence.

“Most cultivators do until they're coughing pieces of their meridians onto the floor.”

Ruoxi looked mildly horrified.

“Pieces?”

“Eventually.”

Han finally spoke.

“Can it be cured?”

Lu Chen raised an eyebrow.

The entire room noticed the shift.

Han noticed it too.

His face hardened.

He had not come here as a patient.

He had come to confirm Lu Chen's identity.

To frighten him.

Possibly to kill him.

And now—

he had asked the Ghost Physician for treatment.

Lu Chen gestured toward a chair.

“Consultation fee is fifty yuan.”

Wei Jun coughed.

Ruoxi looked away.

One of the Qin bodyguards failed to hide a smile.

Han simply stared.

“You're joking.”

“No.”

“You think this is amusing?”

“Not especially.”

Lu Chen tapped the handwritten sign behind him.

CONSULTATION — 50 YUAN

“No credit.”

Han looked at the sign.

Then back at Lu Chen.

For several seconds, murder seemed like a genuine possibility.

Finally, Han reached inside his coat.

He pulled out a black wallet.

Removed a crisp one-hundred-yuan note.

Placed it on the table.

Lu Chen looked at it.

“I don't have change.”

Han's eye twitched.

“Keep it.”

Lu Chen pushed the note back.

“That's not how clinics work.”

“Keep.”

“It.”

Lu Chen considered.

Then accepted it.

“Fine.”

Ruoxi murmured:

“Usury?”

Lu Chen gave her a look.

She smiled faintly.

Han's face became colder.

“Can we begin?”

Lu Chen gestured toward the chair.

Han sat.

One of his men immediately objected.

“Master—”

Han turned.

“Outside.”

The man hesitated.

“All of you.”

“But—”

“Outside.”

They obeyed.

The clinic door closed behind them.

Only Han, Lu Chen, Qin Ruoxi, Wei Jun and the two Qin bodyguards remained.

Han looked toward the guards.

“They stay?”

“Yes,” Ruoxi said.

“This doesn't concern the Qin family.”

“You nearly killed my grandfather.”

“It was business.”

“That sentence did not help.”

Han ignored her.

Lu Chen extended his hand.

“Wrist.”

Han looked at it.

“You already diagnosed me.”

“I looked.”

“What difference—”

“Wrist.”

Slowly, Han placed his arm on the table.

Lu Chen touched the pulse.

Strong.

Too strong.

Artificially forceful.

Every ninth beat contained a tiny interruption.

A pause so brief an ordinary doctor would never notice it.

But Lu Chen did.

His brows drew slightly together.

This was worse than he thought.

“What?”

Han noticed.

“You lied.”

Lu Chen released his wrist.

Han's gaze sharpened.

“About what?”

“Seven days.”

Han became still.

Ruoxi looked between them.

Lu Chen folded his hands.

“If you circulate your technique again…”

He paused.

“…you could die today.”

Han's face turned dark.

“That isn't possible.”

“You said that already.”

“Last night I completed a full cycle.”

“And afterward?”

Han didn't answer.

Lu Chen waited.

Finally:

“I lost consciousness.”

“For how long?”

“Perhaps thirty seconds.”

Wei Jun stared.

Han had never told anyone that.

Lu Chen nodded.

“Your body is already shutting down the meridians to protect your heart.”

Han's fingers tightened.

“Treatment.”

“Possible.”

“How?”

“First I stop the Yin Rot from reaching the heart.”

“Then?”

“Repair the damaged channels.”

“Then?”

“Remove the residue from your dantian.”

Han stared.

“How long?”

“Three treatments.”

Hope appeared.

Then Lu Chen continued.

“Possibly five.”

Han's face tightened again.

“Cost?”

Lu Chen looked at him.

“One answer per treatment.”

Han's eyes turned cold.

“There it is.”

“No money.”

“You want information.”

“Yes.”

Han leaned back.

“About the Black Crescent.”

“Obviously.”

“I told you nothing.”

“You haven't been asked yet.”

“And if I refuse?”

Lu Chen shrugged.

“You paid for the diagnosis.”

Han stared at him.

“You would let me die?”

Lu Chen's expression remained calm.

“I would rather treat you.”

“That wasn't my question.”

“No.”

The word came quietly.

But it carried no hesitation.

“I won't force you onto the treatment bed.”

Han studied him for a long time.

“You saved Wei Jun.”

“Yes.”

“Even though he helped hunt you.”

“Yes.”

“Yet you'd refuse me?”

“I didn't say that.”

“Then what are you saying?”

Lu Chen leaned forward.

“That medicine requires consent.”

Han frowned.

“You choose whether you become my patient.”

“And information is the price.”

“One answer.”

Lu Chen raised a finger.

“Not loyalty. Not service. Not your organization.”

Another finger.

“One truthful answer after each treatment.”

Han looked toward Wei Jun.

“You told him things.”

Wei Jun met his gaze.

“You tried to kill me.”

Han's mouth tightened.

“You were always weak.”

“And I'm still alive.”

For the first time, Wei Jun didn't look away.

Han turned back toward Lu Chen.

“What is the first question?”

Lu Chen smiled faintly.

“Treatment first.”

“You trust me to answer afterward?”

“No.”

Han's brows rose.

“But if you lie…”

Lu Chen glanced at his chest.

“…I simply don't schedule the second session.”

Han almost laughed.

“Physician.”

“Yes?”

“You are much more unpleasant than the stories suggested.”

“Stories grow in the telling.”

This time, Han actually laughed.

A quiet, humorless sound.

“Fine.”

He removed his gray coat.

“Treat me.”

Lu Chen prepared seven needles.

Not nine.

Han watched closely.

“Why seven?”

“Because eight would be unnecessary.”

“That isn't an answer.”

“You haven't earned one.”

Han's jaw tightened.

Ruoxi took a seat near the wall.

She was beginning to enjoy this far too much.

Lu Chen opened Han's shirt.

The man's torso carried numerous scars.

Blades.

Burns.

Old fractures.

Cultivators healed better than ordinary humans, but not everything disappeared.

Near the left ribs, the skin looked healthy.

Yet Lu Chen saw the corruption beneath.

Black-green tendrils wrapped around the Life Meridian.

He placed the first needle.

Han didn't react.

Second.

Third.

Still nothing.

Then Lu Chen placed the fourth below the lung.

Han's breathing stopped.

“What…”

“Don't move.”

Heat surged beneath his skin.

Not warmth.

Burning.

Han's fist clenched.

“What are you doing?”

“Making your body notice the thing that's killing it.”

Han's veins bulged.

The black-green residue began moving.

Good.

Lu Chen placed the fifth needle.

The Yin Rot recoiled.

The sixth closed the path toward the heart.

The seventh redirected it toward the right arm.

Han's right hand turned almost black.

Ruoxi stood.

“His hand.”

“I see it.”

Wei Jun looked horrified.

“Doctor Lu…”

“Quiet.”

Lu Chen reached inward.

The golden point inside his shattered core stirred.

Life Essence.

A very small amount remained after treating Wei Jun.

Using too much now would leave Lu Chen nearly empty.

Worse—

Death Essence was everywhere inside Han.

Far more than inside Wei Jun.

Lu Chen could feel it.

His shattered core could too.

It pulled.

Hard.

Lu Chen's breath caught.

The black-green energy inside Han seemed suddenly delicious.

There was no other word.

A power accumulated over decades.

Tainted.

Deadly.

But power nonetheless.

If he absorbed it—

the thought arrived instantly.

His core could grow.

Broken meridians could reopen.

Perhaps one.

Perhaps several.

Years of recovery condensed into minutes.

His fingers tightened around the needle.

The golden point pulsed.

Take it.

Lu Chen's eyes darkened.

He wasn't sure whether the thought was his own.

That frightened him.

He came to kill you.

The pull increased.

He poisoned Qin Zhenguo.

A black thread moved upward through the needle.

Toward Lu Chen.

He deserves it.

The Death Essence touched the tip of Lu Chen's finger.

Strength rushed into him.

For one heartbeat, his damaged meridians came alive.

It felt incredible.

Too incredible.

Then he remembered a little girl offering half a sesame cake to the man who had helped hunt her father.

If the bad people get hurt, you can fix them after.

Lu Chen closed his eyes.

“Annoying child.”

Han grimaced.

“What?”

“Not you.”

Lu Chen opened his eyes.

The temptation remained.

But the decision had been made.

He forced the Death Essence away from himself.

The shattered core resisted.

This time even more violently than before.

Pain exploded through Lu Chen's abdomen.

His face became pale.

Ruoxi noticed.

“Lu Chen.”

“Stay back.”

The black-green energy surged.

Lu Chen pushed Life Essence forward.

Gold met rot.

The transformation happened slowly.

Much more slowly than with Wei Jun.

Han's Yin Rot had existed for years.

It had become part of his body.

Lu Chen couldn't remove it completely.

Not today.

But he could separate it.

Purify a portion.

Give Han time.

The black color in Han's arm began fading.

Han inhaled sharply.

For the first time in years, the constant pressure inside his chest weakened.

He noticed immediately.

His eyes widened.

The numbness in his fingers disappeared.

Lu Chen removed the first needle.

Then the second.

By the seventh, sweat had soaked through the back of his shirt.

He took one step backward.

Ruoxi moved forward.

He raised a hand.

“I'm fine.”

“You keep saying that.”

“One day it might become true.”

Han looked at his hands.

Opened them.

Closed them.

Then raised his left arm.

Slowly.

Shoulder level.

Higher.

This time it passed the previous point.

No pain.

Han stared.

“How?”

Lu Chen sat.

“Temporary.”

Han's expression changed.

“What do you mean?”

“I stopped the progression and cleared perhaps twenty percent of the accumulated Yin Rot.”

“Only twenty?”

“You spent decades poisoning yourself.”

Han frowned.

“My technique was given to me by—”

He stopped.

Lu Chen noticed.

“By whom?”

Han's eyes narrowed.

“Is that your question?”

“No.”

“Then don't waste it.”

Interesting.

Someone had given Han the technique.

Someone important enough that he instinctively protected the identity.

Lu Chen stored the detail away.

“You have approximately one month before the residue begins accumulating dangerously again.”

Han looked at his arm.

“And if I return?”

“Second treatment.”

“What will that do?”

“Another portion.”

“And the third?”

“If your body responds well, I repair the damage to the dantian.”

Han became silent.

He understood the implication.

“You could restore my cultivation foundation.”

“I could stop it from collapsing.”

“Not the same thing.”

“No.”

“But possible.”

“Possibly.”

Han stared at him.

“Why help me become stronger?”

Ruoxi looked toward Lu Chen.

She had wondered the same thing.

Lu Chen's answer came simply.

“I'm treating you.”

Han frowned.

“That's all?”

“That is enough.”

For reasons Han could not explain, the answer disturbed him more than hatred would have.

Lu Chen wiped his hands.

“Now.”

Han's gaze sharpened.

“The question.”

“Yes.”

He waited.

Ruoxi stopped moving.

Wei Jun leaned forward.

Lu Chen looked directly into Han's eyes.

“Who ordered the destruction of the Valley of Nine Medicines?”

Silence.

Han's face changed.

Not much.

But enough.

He had expected a question about Qin Zhenguo.

Or Steward Han's employer.

Or the Black Crescent.

Not this.

“I don't know.”

Lu Chen's expression didn't move.

“Truth.”

Han's jaw tightened.

“That is the truth.”

Lu Chen studied him.

Pulse.

Breathing.

Pupil response.

Microexpression.

His Life Meridian gave less direct information about lies than people might imagine.

But bodies betrayed tension.

Han wasn't lying.

Not entirely.

Lu Chen changed the question.

“Who do you believe ordered it?”

Han went silent.

“That is not the same question.”

“It is clarification.”

“You're cheating.”

“I'm a doctor.”

“That explains nothing.”

“It usually does.”

Han's mouth twitched.

Then the humor disappeared.

“I don't know his name.”

Lu Chen waited.

“Five years ago, I wasn't part of the operation.”

“You knew about it.”

“Yes.”

“Before?”

“No. After.”

“From whom?”

Han's gaze hardened.

“One question.”

Lu Chen said nothing.

Han smiled.

“You made the rule.”

Fair.

Lu Chen leaned back.

“Continue.”

Han's fingers tapped once against his knee.

“The order did not come from Jiangzhou.”

Lu Chen's eyes narrowed.

“It came from somewhere called…”

Han paused.

“…the Upper Court.”

Wei Jun looked confused.

Ruoxi had never heard the words.

Lu Chen—

went completely still.

Han noticed.

“You know it?”

Lu Chen's face gave nothing away.

But inside, something old shifted.

Upper Court.

He had heard the phrase only once.

His master had been arguing with someone behind a closed door.

Lu Chen had been nineteen.

Too curious.

Too arrogant.

He had listened.

The Valley will not bow to the Upper Court.

Then his master had discovered him.

The punishment had been six hours of sorting bitterroot.

Lu Chen had forgotten the phrase.

Until now.

Han stood.

“That is my answer.”

“Who told you the name?”

“Second treatment.”

Lu Chen looked at him.

Han smiled faintly.

“You made the rules.”

Perhaps Lu Chen disliked him slightly less.

Slightly.

A horn sounded outside.

One of Han's men entered.

“Sir.”

Han looked toward him.

“What?”

“The delivery arrived.”

Han's expression became strange.

Then he remembered.

“Ah.”

Lu Chen frowned.

“What delivery?”

Han buttoned his shirt.

“I nearly forgot.”

He walked toward the clinic entrance.

Lu Chen followed.

Outside, a small black truck had pulled up.

Two men climbed out of the back.

Between them—

they carried a coffin.

Solid dark wood.

New.

Expensive.

The entire street seemed to stop.

Uncle Chen appeared outside his noodle shop.

Madam Zhou opened her window across the road.

Several neighbors stared.

Qin Ruoxi slowly turned toward Han.

“You brought a coffin?”

Han looked mildly embarrassed.

“I ordered it before arriving.”

“For whom?”

Han glanced at Lu Chen.

Nobody needed the answer.

Lu Chen stared at the coffin.

Then at Han.

“You came to my clinic expecting to kill me.”

Han adjusted his sleeve.

“That was one possibility.”

“And brought the coffin yourself.”

“I believe in preparation.”

Lu Chen nodded slowly.

“Good habit.”

Han's expression became suspicious.

Lu Chen walked toward the coffin.

He examined the wood.

Knocked twice.

Solid.

“Not bad.”

Han stared.

“You're reviewing it?”

“Rosewood?”

“Black sandalwood.”

“Expensive.”

“Yes.”

Lu Chen nodded approvingly.

“Good.”

Then he turned toward Han.

“Keep it.”

Silence.

Han's eye twitched.

Lu Chen pointed toward his chest.

“You may still need it.”

Qin Ruoxi covered her mouth.

Uncle Chen burst out laughing from across the street.

Even Wei Jun, standing weakly in the doorway, failed to contain himself.

Han looked at the coffin.

Then at Lu Chen.

For several long seconds, the street waited for bloodshed.

Instead—

Han laughed.

A genuine laugh.

Short.

Sharp.

Almost disbelieving.

“Ghost Physician.”

Lu Chen's expression became flat.

“I have a name.”

“Lu Chen.”

“Better.”

Han looked toward the coffin.

Then at his men.

“Leave it.”

His men stared.

“Sir?”

“I said leave it.”

“For…?”

Han looked toward Lu Chen.

“Consultation deposit.”

Lu Chen frowned.

“I don't accept coffins.”

“You do today.”

“This is going to frighten patients.”

Han stepped toward his car.

“Then sell it.”

“How?”

Han opened the rear door.

“Your problem.”

Lu Chen looked genuinely irritated.

“Take your coffin.”

Han entered the car.

The door closed.

The sedan pulled away.

The men followed.

The coffin remained.

Everyone on the street stared at it.

Then at Lu Chen.

Madam Zhou shouted from her window:

“Doctor Lu!”

He closed his eyes.

“What?”

“What kind of patient pays with a coffin?”

“A difficult one.”

“You aren't opening a funeral business, are you?”

“No.”

Uncle Chen called from across the street.

“Could make more money than the clinic!”

“Go cook noodles!”

Ruoxi laughed.

Lu Chen turned toward her.

“This is partially your fault.”

“My fault?”

“Yes.”

“How?”

“I don't know yet.”

“You're ridiculous.”

He looked toward the coffin again.

A thought occurred.

“Wait.”

Lu Chen stepped closer.

Something about the coffin felt wrong.

Not dangerous.

Familiar.

He placed one hand against the lid.

Cold.

Not normal cold.

Spiritual cold.

His expression changed.

“Open it.”

Ruoxi stopped smiling.

“What?”

“Open it.”

Wei Jun stepped outside.

The two Qin bodyguards approached.

Together, they lifted the heavy lid.

The hinges creaked.

Madam Zhou's window slammed shut.

Uncle Chen retreated into his shop.

The coffin opened.

Empty.

Almost.

At the bottom lay a single object.

A jade pendant.

Broken in half.

Lu Chen stopped breathing.

He knew it.

Cloud-shaped.

White jade.

A tiny medicinal cauldron carved into the center.

He had seen it every day for more than fifteen years.

His master wore it around his waist.

Lu Chen reached inside.

His hand trembled for the first time.

He picked up the pendant.

Ruoxi noticed his face.

“What is it?”

He didn't answer.

Memories struck him.

A mountain valley covered in medicinal flowers.

An old man hitting him over the head with a bamboo scroll.

Idiot! You boiled a thousand-year herb for twenty minutes?

A younger Lu Chen laughing.

His master pretending to be angry.

Rain.

Fire.

Blood.

The last night.

His master's hand against his chest.

Live.

Then darkness.

Lu Chen stared at the pendant.

One half.

The other was missing.

His thumb brushed the carved cauldron.

A tiny trace of spiritual energy remained inside.

Extremely weak.

But unmistakable.

His master's.

Lu Chen's heart pounded.

Impossible.

The pendant should have burned with the Valley.

Unless—

Ruoxi saw the realization arrive.

“Lu Chen?”

He closed his hand around the jade.

His master had vanished five years ago.

Everyone assumed he had died.

Lu Chen had assumed it too.

There had never been a body.

Only blood.

Too much blood.

He turned toward the road Han had taken.

Why had Han brought the coffin?

Had he known the pendant was inside?

Or had someone placed it there without his knowledge?

More importantly—

where was the other half?

The golden point inside Lu Chen's shattered core suddenly pulsed.

The broken jade answered.

A faint light appeared inside the carving.

One flash.

Then another.

A signal.

Lu Chen's eyes widened.

The pendant wasn't merely carrying residual spiritual energy.

Someone had recently activated it.

Very recently.

Ruoxi stepped closer.

“What does that mean?”

Lu Chen stared at the glowing jade.

For five years, he had believed his master was dead.

Now, for the first time, he allowed himself to consider something more dangerous than grief.

Hope.

He closed his fingers around the pendant.

“My master may still be alive.”

Twelve kilometers away, Steward Han sat in the rear of the sedan.

He pressed two fingers against his chest.

No pain.

For the first time in years, breathing felt easy.

He should have been satisfied.

Instead, he was frowning.

“Stop the car.”

The driver obeyed.

Han looked toward his subordinate.

“The coffin.”

“Sir?”

“Who loaded it?”

The man hesitated.

“The funeral shop delivered it to the warehouse this morning.”

“Did anyone open it?”

“No.”

“Are you certain?”

“Yes.”

Han's expression darkened.

He had never ordered anything to be placed inside.

Yet just before leaving the clinic—

he had sensed something.

A trace of energy.

Not Lu Chen's.

Not Wei Jun's.

Something old.

Something hidden.

Han looked toward the eastern sky.

For the first time, he wondered whether bringing that coffin had been his decision at all.

Or whether someone had arranged for him to deliver a message.

His phone vibrated.

No caller ID.

Han answered.

Nobody spoke.

Then a distorted voice whispered:

“Did he receive the jade?”

Han's face changed.

He looked toward the driver.

“Who is this?”

The voice ignored him.

“Did the Ghost Physician receive it?”

Han's hand tightened around the phone.

“Who are you?”

Silence.

Then:

“Tell your master…”

The voice became colder.

“…the dead are beginning to wake.”

The call ended.

Han remained still.

His subordinate turned.

“Sir?”

Han looked back toward Jiangzhou.

For the first time since joining the people behind the Black Crescent—

Steward Han wondered whether he had chosen the wrong side.