Chapter 69: The Mysterious Beggar

After Fang Xian and Feng Ling executed their daring ruse and slipped away, they spurred their horses toward Wudu at breakneck speed. Accompanying him were eight top martial artists—Bear Half-blind, Liu Foolhardy, Zhao Half-coin, Li Banner, Zhou Bold, Shen Jiahuang, Lin Zhendong, and Zhang Yong—all of whom had disguised themselves.

By the time Jin Tukung led his men in pursuit, Fang Xian's group had already crossed the Huai River and headed north. They had changed their appearances once more, blending seamlessly into a merchant caravan bound for Wudu, posing as its hired guards.

A few days later, the caravan arrived at a small city called Anyang, several dozen miles from Wudu. Though modest in size, its proximity to the martial capital—only half a day's journey away—made it bustling and prosperous, its population rivaling that of Qingyang.

During a rest stop, Fang Xian strolled through the streets with several companions. As they passed a narrow alley, he sensed a faint but chaotic fluctuation of energy, causing him to halt in his tracks.

In the alley, a handful of beggars were scattered about—some collapsed in corners, others dozing against the wall, a few half-awake. The source of the turbulent energy, Fang Xian quickly discerned, was one of these beggars.

He approached. The beggars eyed them warily, rousing their sleeping companions, all except for one who lay senseless in the corner.

As Fang Xian drew near, the erratic energy became increasingly pronounced, unmistakably emanating from the prostrate beggar. He pointed to him and asked the others, “Who is he?”

“He’s an old beggar, young master. Been here for many years,” replied the eldest among them.

“Is he ill?” Fang Xian inquired.

“He's always been sick, has these spells. Sometimes he sleeps for days, his mind’s not right—can’t even beg properly. We feed him when we can, else he’d have starved long ago,” the old beggar answered.

Fang Xian crouched down and reached for the old man’s wrist, but the moment he made contact, his hand was jolted away as if shocked by an invisible current—no pain or numbness, just an uncanny sensation.

“When he’s like this, no one can touch him, young master. He trembles and reacts just so,” the elder beggar hastened to explain.

“It’s nothing,” Fang Xian replied with a faint smile. “I am a divine physician—there is no illness in this world I cannot cure.” With that, he channeled mysterious energy into his palm and extended his hand again.

Though the chaotic fluctuations persisted, this time his fingers were not repelled. As he touched the old beggar’s wrist, the mysterious energy streamed into the man’s body, and Fang Xian’s expression grew perplexed.

Within the old beggar, he sensed an immense, unfathomable internal force—vast as the ocean, deeper and more powerful than even the likes of Ye Qingyun or Feng Ling, masters of the highest order.

Yet the man’s meridians were severed throughout his body. That overwhelming energy was trapped within, unable to flow, sealed off by the broken channels, which explained the intermittent bursts of chaotic power.

Upon further examination, Fang Xian discovered the most severe damage was to the man’s brain—his mind ravaged by the surging energy, leaving him in a perpetual stupor, witless as a child.

“This man was certainly no ordinary soul,” Fang Xian mused. “At the very least, he was once a grandmaster at the pinnacle of his art. That he has fallen to such a state must be the work of a deadly foe.”

He weighed whether to save the man or not. If he did, he might gain a powerful ally—or perhaps incur the wrath of an even more formidable enemy. Yet the healer’s instinct prevailed; he set aside such concerns and resolved to restore the man first. Once his mind returned, they could learn his identity, his story, and the enemies he had made.

“He’s a senior figure we’ve been seeking. We must take him for treatment. Here, take this silver among yourselves, and speak not a word of this, lest you risk your lives.” With that, Fang Xian had the old beggar brought to a nearby inn and rewarded the others to ensure their silence.

After the man was bathed and shorn, Fang Xian saw that he was a lean, scholarly-looking fellow of about fifty, with a gentle bearing, though his eyes remained vacant and his wits were clouded.

Fang Xian conducted a thorough examination and administered initial treatment, estimating it would take at least several months for the man to regain even partial lucidity.

To guard against mishap or recognition, Fang Xian altered the man’s appearance to that of a middle-aged stranger. He informed the caravan leader, hired a carriage for the journey, and on the road, performed acupuncture and used his mysterious energy to reconnect the broken meridians and smooth the turbulent currents within.

That afternoon, the caravan reached the gates of Wudu. Though they were subjected to a rigorous search outside the city, their paperwork was in order and they seemed to have connections in Wudu, so Fang Xian and his companions entered without incident.

Parting ways with the caravan, they took up residence in an inn, reserving a private courtyard for themselves. Fang Xian immediately dispatched his men to gather information, particularly regarding the sale of any medical clinics.

“Master, word on the street is that the former Chief Imperial Physician, Situ Xun, has been imprisoned for failing to cure the Crown Prince. His family is desperate to raise funds for his release and is selling the ancestral Jishi Hall Medical Clinic. They’ve reduced the price again and again, but no one dares buy it,” Li Banner soon reported.

“Situ Xun—the former Chief Imperial Physician? What sort of man is he?” Fang Xian asked.

“By all accounts, a man of good character. Many officials have pleaded for him since his imprisonment, but His Majesty is still enraged and has not relented. His family is anxious to raise the ransom, for none can say if the emperor will ever pardon him.”

“Let us have a look at Jishi Hall,” Fang Xian decided. “If it suits us, we’ll purchase it and establish our footing here.”

He took three companions and set off on foot, traversing half of Wudu. After half an hour, they reached a prominent intersection near the north gate, where the illustrious Jishi Hall Medical Clinic stood.

But now its grand doors were firmly shut, the side entrance barely ajar. Once the bustling practice of the Chief Imperial Physician, it now stood deserted and forlorn.

“Banner, go and knock. Tell them we’re interested in buying,” Fang Xian instructed, nodding at the plaque above the door.

Li Banner approached and knocked. A middle-aged steward peered out, scrutinizing him. “What is it? We’re not seeing patients.”

“Is Jishi Hall up for sale? My master wishes to buy it,” Li Banner said plainly.

“Truly? But the price is thirty thousand taels. Is your master willing to pay that much?” The steward’s eyes widened in hope.

“Are you authorized to negotiate? Perhaps you should call your master out to discuss terms properly. We’d also like to see if the clinic is worth the price,” Li Banner replied coolly, letting a hint of his formidable aura show, which left the steward visibly unsettled.

“My lady, young mistress, and young master are in the rear courtyard. Please, come inside,” the steward said at last, having glimpsed Fang Xian’s distinguished bearing.

Fang Xian and his party entered through the side door, passed along winding corridors, and arrived in a rear courtyard. He noted that the front of Jishi Hall was devoted to the clinic, while the rear served as a residence, complete with several separate courtyards, spanning more than ten acres.

“Madam, young mistress, young master—there is a Master Fang here to discuss taking over Jishi Hall,” the steward announced. From within the hall came a clear, melodious voice, bright as an oriole’s song.

“Uncle Zhang, please invite Master Fang and his party inside,” came the reply. From the voice alone, Fang Xian could tell the speaker was young, but carried herself with remarkable poise.

He led the way into the hall, where he saw a beautiful girl in a pale yellow dress helping a middle-aged woman to sit. A young boy of several years stood at her side.