Chapter Twelve: Having a Way Forward Is a Blessing

“That’s not just a drop in the bucket… wait!” Feng Xue’s mind raced swiftly, and she immediately caught on, her eyes burning with intensity.

“You mean that after lifting the curse, my lifespan could actually be extended, perhaps through… cultivation?”

“Smart!” The “Doctor Lan” smiled warmly, clapping her hands together. “It’s not easy, but if you can become a martial arts grandmaster within nine years, living another sixty or seventy years won’t be a problem. How you cultivate, though, is entirely up to you! That’s all I have to say. Whether you want to lift the curse is your choice. I’m off now!”

As soon as she finished speaking, from Feng Xue’s over-the-shoulder view, the radiance surrounding Doctor Lan instantly faded. Her eyes, once filled with an otherworldly aura, returned to a normal, ordinary look.

“*Ahem!*” After a light cough, Doctor Lan fell silent for a moment. Her now plain gaze suddenly seemed to carry the innocent clarity of a college student in Feng Xue’s eyes.

After a brief awkward pause, as if finally settling on what to say, Doctor Lan spoke again.

“In short, this is the situation: I only called upon Aunt Yuefang to intervene because you truly were cursed. Normally, I really do treat patients with modern medicine!”

“I understand, I understand.” Feng Xue offered a polite yet slightly embarrassed smile before asking, “How much is the consultation fee?”

“Two rootless curses, two thousand wen. I’m not charging you twice, but if they were lifted together and the longer-lasting one broke first, you’d lose life again.” Doctor Lan casually gave the price, causing Feng Xue’s brow to twitch in surprise.

After all, wasn’t that price a bit… too cheap?

Granted, the purchasing power of wen here was two or three times stronger than the yuan back home, but…

Since when did lifting curses cost just a few thousand?

However, Feng Xue quickly realized he’d misjudged. Unlike his hometown or the lifespan-shortening world after transmigration, here supernatural cultivation was mainstream. In such a small county town, there were three or four openly operating businesses like this. Under these circumstances, minor problems probably wouldn’t be too expensive.

It was akin to the vast price difference between pistols in China and the United States.

Without overthinking, Feng Xue immediately pulled out two strings of cash.

“Do I need to fast or bathe or anything?”

“No such fuss. Honestly, a lot of those shamanistic rituals are meaningless gestures—basically just performances to make people feel the fee was well-earned. After all, if I just wave my hand and say it’s done, the payer wouldn’t feel secure, right? Okay, the money’s fine. Just wait a moment!”

Doctor Lan verified the bills, pressed them on the table with a cup, then turned to rummage through the herbal medicine cabinet. Despite being a young woman, she moved deftly, climbing and reaching with agility. Within seconds, she selected some herbs, measured them on a small scale, then clasped her hands together. The herbs transformed into a fine powder as if ground by a mill.

“I’ll start by lifting the shorter curse. It might be a bit harsh; drink plenty of water afterward and don’t hold your breath. Also, don’t inhale deeply—it’s not some miraculous elixir!”

While speaking, Doctor Lan lit a stick of incense to ignite the powdered herbs. The smoky, medicinal scent filled the consultation room. Through Feng Xue’s over-the-shoulder view, the faint, veil-like radiance once again emanated from Doctor Lan.

As she chanted softly, the light subtly blended with the smoke, draping over Feng Xue like a gauzy cloak.

Whether it was psychological or not, Feng Xue suddenly felt something quietly lift from within him. His mind cleared, a refreshing vitality washing over him.

“Done. Tsk, tsk. How can such a self-defeating curse exist? How badly must someone be wronged to do something like this?” Doctor Lan casually muttered, though Feng Xue suspected this was part of her practiced pitch. It helped patients understand she truly grasped such curses, rather than just performing a ritual and calling it a day.

As Doctor Lan extinguished the burned ashes in a basin of water, Feng Xue, after a moment of thought, suddenly asked, “Doctor Lan, if I wanted to become a spirit medium, where should I go?”

“Well…” Doctor Lan paused mid-motion while grinding fresh herbs but quickly recovered, sweeping the powder into a small mound as she replied, “If you want to cultivate longevity through this, I advise you to give up. Spirit mediums belong to the shamanic tradition; the focus is not on the person but on the family spirit. Without a family spirit worshiped long-term, even if you master the incantations, it’s useless.

“Besides, there’s an unspoken understanding here. Aunt Yuefang has been worshiped by my family for nearly three hundred years, and I’ve grown up with her. If you bring in a new family spirit, forget about extending your life—you might even shorten it due to spiritual conflicts!

“I’m not exaggerating. Of those first to welcome a family spirit, few lived past forty. Your lifespan is already short—I’m afraid you might not survive long enough to complete your training! Anyway, that’s enough.”

Doctor Lan’s tone was serious at first, but as she uttered “Much obliged,” her earlier gravity vanished once more.

Yet Feng Xue’s attention wasn’t on that. Lifespan shortening didn’t trouble him at all—with Destiny Stabilization on his side, his life wouldn’t decrease unnaturally. As for family spirits, he possessed a little white snake that could instantly become one with a single command. He was well-equipped indeed.

Regarding Aunt Yuefang’s mention of martial cultivation...

Come on—this body was already in its late twenties. Without any cultivation techniques, mentors, or connections, becoming a grandmaster in nine years? Even a modest novel wouldn’t dare write that!

He didn’t even know the martial cultivation system of this world.

Unwilling to accept this, Feng Xue took a deep breath. Though this doctor didn’t seem to care much about money, he still pulled a gold bar from the inner pocket of his jacket and placed it on the table.

Seeing the gold bar, Doctor Lan, who was putting money into a drawer, immediately shook her head.

“I told you, it’s not about the money. Your lifespan won’t allow it. Mystical cultivation nourishes the spirit through qi and blood. In your case, you won’t survive long enough for the spirit to feed back. Just like Aunt Yuefang said, you should practice martial arts. Even if you don’t become a grandmaster, you can live a few years longer. Don’t pursue the mystic path—it’s a dead end!”

Seeing Doctor Lan’s resolute attitude, Feng Xue sighed but felt no despair—in fact, he was filled with hope.

After all, she wasn’t the only “immortal” in this world.

He carefully put the gold bar away, stood up, and cupped his hands in a respectful gesture.

“In that case, I’ll take my leave. Thank you, Doctor Lan, for your help. Until we meet again.”

“No need, no need. Just normal doctor-patient relations,” she replied.

Then, suddenly serious, Doctor Lan said, “By the way, if anyone asks, remember to say you came for medical treatment! Got it?!”