Chapter Forty-Nine: Who Sent You Here?

"Why is he here?" Upon seeing the newcomer, Master Tu’s face darkened.

The district head, Qin Rulong, was not only the local administrator but also a relative of a high-ranking official in the Jinghan Government Affairs Bureau. An upright man, he never abused his power nor accepted bribes, and in the past, he had caused Master Tu no small amount of trouble. Yet, wary of Qin’s powerful connections, Master Tu usually chose to give way.

"Old Qin, what brings you here today?" Master Tu forced a smile, stepping forward to curry favor, but Qin Rulong cut him off sharply. "Wherever there’s corruption, there I’ll be."

"Master Tu, I heard that after selling your wares, if you see something valuable, you try to buy it back at the original price?"

"What business is it of yours? We’re just running our business. Who do you think you are, barging in here—"

A loud slap cut him off. Fat Jin, who wanted nothing more than to ruin Ye Wushang, had tried to shout Qin Rulong down, but Master Tu silenced him with a slap across the face. "Shut up," he barked. "I'll deal with you later. Qin Rulong’s connections are special; if he decides to give me trouble, the consequences will be disastrous."

He then took a deep breath. Though the little golden censer the bodyguard had fished out was tempting beyond words, for the sake of the bigger picture he forced himself to say, "Of course not, absolutely not! We’re running an honest business here, nothing underhanded, no forced transactions—such a thing is impossible!"

"Then why did your man grab at my pocket?" Ye Wushang sneered, pointing at the censer in the bodyguard’s hand. "Master Tu, is this censer going back where it came from, or are you keeping it?"

Master Tu’s expression darkened. After a pointed look, the bald man hurried to return the censer to Ye Wushang’s pocket.

"Of course it’s yours. Once it’s sold to you, it belongs to you."

With that, Master Tu approached, clapped Ye Wushang hard on the shoulder, and growled through gritted teeth, "I’ll remember you. Daring to defy me, even dragging Qin Rulong here to back you up? Let me tell you, you may run from the monk, but you can’t run from the temple. Once I set my sights on something, I never fail to get it. Just you wait."

Ye Wushang smiled lightly and nodded. "I look forward to your next move. I just hope, when we meet again, your demand won’t be for the censer alone."

He then nudged the still-stunned An Lan. "Lanlan, let’s go. Best let them handle this, before trouble drags on."

An Lan nodded, said no more, and followed Ye Wushang away.

...

City People’s Hospital.

"Doctor, how is it? There’s nothing wrong with me, right?" Master Tu watched the doctor studying his scans, anxiety written all over his face.

Ever since Ye Wushang had claimed he was ill, the words had seemed to come true—he'd started feeling unwell. The more he dwelled on it, the more uneasy he became, so he’d rushed to the hospital for a full checkup. Though everyone called him Master Tu, he was only fifty, far from ready to leave the world behind.

"It’s not a major issue..." The doctor studied the films carefully, his tone calm and indifferent.

Hearing this, Master Tu’s heart instantly eased. Of course, he thought, I exercise daily and take all sorts of supplements. How could anything be wrong with my health? That bastard claimed I was dying, only had a month left to live. First he hits me, then he curses me.

Just you wait—if I don’t make you pay, I’ll take your name as my own!

At that moment, he made to rise, but the doctor reached out, holding him down. "Wait a moment, sir. Your brain scans are fine, but your lung films show a serious issue."

He held up a scan shadowed with white spots and handed it to Master Tu. "All these white spots around your lungs are cancer cells. It’s already spread—this is advanced lung cancer."

It was as if lightning had struck in broad daylight. Master Tu stared in disbelief. "You must be mistaken! I’m in great shape—how could I have cancer? You must have mixed up the scans—"

"The machine took the pictures; there’s no mistake. I’ve practiced medicine for over twenty years. I’ve seen hundreds, if not thousands, of cases like this. There’s no way I’m wrong."

Master Tu was instantly terrified. "Doctor, can this be treated? How much longer do I have?"

"Advanced lung cancer is virtually incurable. If you undergo chemotherapy and cooperate fully, you might prolong your life a bit. But in your current condition, you’re at the point of no return—less than a month, I’m afraid..."

Before the doctor finished, Master Tu shot out of the room.

He hadn’t expected that Ye Wushang hadn’t cursed him, but had spoken the truth! He really was sick—terminal lung cancer, even he hadn’t known, yet Ye Wushang had seen it at a glance! No wonder he could identify the censer within a censer—he was a true master.

Regret flooded him. Had he known, he wouldn't have dared offend Ye Wushang even if he had a hundred lives to spare! He swore to find him at any cost. If he could diagnose such a grave illness, surely he could cure it. Whatever the price, he would pay.

...

In the car.

"Wushang, didn’t you say you wanted Fat Jin to apologize to you? Qin Rulong was called here by Huiru, and Master Tu seemed quite afraid of him. Why didn’t you take advantage—"

"No need." Ye Wushang shook his head lightly. "I want him to bring Fat Jin and apologize of his own accord. Forced apologies mean nothing to me—I prefer sincerity."

An Lan frowned, glancing sidelong at his calm demeanor. She hesitated, suspicion in her eyes. "Wushang, what do you mean? Don’t tell me Master Tu really is sick, and—"

"Lanlan," Ye Wushang cut her off. He didn’t wish to discuss it further. To him, this was just a minor episode; what truly excited him was having acquired the little golden censer. He couldn’t wait to test its power in alchemy. He had some inferior herbs stored at his workshop—perhaps he could turn trash into treasure.

He drew a deep breath. "Drop me off by the roadside. I need to return to the workshop."

"Again?" An Lan asked, puzzled, not stopping the car but accelerating. "I’m pressed for time too—need to prepare for the company’s celebration banquet in three days—but there’s time enough to take you. Hold on."

The car sped through the streets. What should have been an hour’s drive, An Lan’s expert driving halved to thirty minutes.

Despite her icy, seductive exterior, An Lan’s true nature was fiery and decisive. Even her driving was bold and forthright, surprising Ye Wushang with this new side of her. After a brief farewell, she drove away.

Ye Wushang opened the door to his workshop. As he stepped over the threshold, a rush of figures burst in behind him from every direction, surrounding him completely.

Bang. The door slammed shut.

Glancing up, Ye Wushang saw more than twenty men with hair dyed in garish colors, their bodies covered in dragon and phoenix tattoos. One, a young man with a scar on his face and a brutish look, sauntered forward, toying with a knife. "I’ve been waiting for you. You finally came back!"

Ye Wushang’s face hardened. "It seems my warning wasn’t heeded by Master Tu. Sending you here, I suppose, is not to seek a cure, but to kill me?"

"Master Tu?" Scarface sneered. "Never heard of him. Listen up—I don’t have time to waste. You have two choices: do it yourself, or I’ll do it for you. Ten seconds to decide."

Ye Wushang’s breath caught. Were they not sent by Master Tu? He'd expected Master Tu, constrained by Qin Rulong, would keep his hands clean and send others to do his dirty work. But Scarface seemed genuinely unaware of him. If not Master Tu, then who?

"Nine. Ten." As the countdown ended, Scarface’s expression hardened. "Time’s up. What’s your choice?"

"My choice is a third option: tell me who sent you, then get lost."

Scarface swore, his face twisted with rage. "Still got a smart mouth, even at death’s door? Fine, I’ll oblige. Boys, get him—cut his tendons! The boss wants to deal with him personally later."

At his command, a dozen thugs armed with steel rods and clubs surged forward. They were street punks, good for minor scuffles, but to Ye Wushang, they were as harmless as children.

With a leap, he soared above them, legs scissoring like blades, flooring them all in the blink of an eye. Stepping lightly on one man’s head as if on water, he shot straight for Scarface.

Bang! A fierce kick struck Scarface in the chest. He doubled over, vomiting blood, and staggered to the ground. Struggling to rise, he was pinned down by Ye Wushang, who seized his knife and pressed the blade to his throat.

"Don’t—don’t kill me!"