Chapter 86: Saving a Life with Acupuncture

Bai Wuming could not catch up with An Yi. Hesitating between continuing the pursuit or parting ways for now and meeting again some other day, he was suddenly startled by her cry. Drawing a breath of true energy, he flew forward with several leaps and landed in front of An Yi. "Nineteenth Sister, what has happened?"

"Bai Wuming, look at this sword," An Yi handed him the sword in her hand.

"This is Tang Yan's sword," Bai Wuming took the sword, glanced at the four men collapsed on the ground, and let out a chuckle. "For the young master of the Iron Sword Sect to fall for such a trap on his first journey alone—he still needs more experience."

Seeing his lack of concern, An Yi's eyes flickered. "I searched the house—only the sword was there; he was nowhere to be found."

"Wake them up and ask where they've hidden him," Bai Wuming suggested, stroking his chin.

"We can't ask them. I struck their death points," An Yi said with slight regret—had she known, she might have waited before ridding the world of these villains.

Bai Wuming was momentarily stunned, evidently not expecting An Yi to be so ruthless. Noticing her remorse, he quickly said, "These four ran a black inn, harming travelers. Their deaths are well deserved."

"I wonder if they have any accomplices?" An Yi asked with a frown.

Bai Wuming inhaled, looking around. "There's no smell of blood here. In broad daylight, they likely intended just one transaction, with no time to kill Tang Yan. If he's not in the house, they must have hidden him somewhere in the woods. Let's search the area."

"I... I'll go into the woods to look," An Yi replied. She did not know Tang Yan, and was originally going to leave everything to Bai Wuming and depart. But her heart was not as hard as stone, and she changed her mind.

Bai Wuming narrowed his eyes with a smile.

The forest was large, but finding Tang Yan wasn't difficult; the four had not hidden him far. About five hundred meters behind the teahouse stood a small wooden hut. Bai Wuming twisted open the brass lock and pushed the door open, revealing Tang Yan, unconscious and tightly bound inside.

Seeing Tang Yan unharmed, An Yi leapt onto her horse. "I'm leaving."

"Nineteenth Sister, wait—" Bai Wuming tried to follow, but couldn't catch up. Looking down at Tang Yan, he sighed, "What a troublesome fellow."

An Yi had already left. Bai Wuming carried Tang Yan back to the teahouse and fetched clean water to splash on his face.

Tang Yan awoke, saw Bai Wuming and the four dead men on the ground, and instantly understood what had transpired. "Thank you, Young Hero Bai, for your timely assistance, I—"

"Young Hero Tang, you thank the wrong person. The one who rescued you was not me, but someone else. She had urgent matters and has already departed," Bai Wuming said, taking no credit for An Yi's deed.

There were many forks in the road here, and Bai Wuming had not taken this path on his way. Tang Yan had followed him, and on returning could not recognize the route. Had An Yi not happened to pass by, and with people tailing their every move, this youth—new to the martial world and unaware of human treachery—would not have survived.

Tang Yan did not quite believe this, but thanked Bai repeatedly regardless.

"Young Hero Tang, let us quickly clean up this place, lest the authorities come and trouble us," Bai Wuming said, unwilling to waste words explaining.

Together, they moved the four corpses and the furniture into the house and set it ablaze. Fearing the fire might spread to the forest, Bai Wuming and Tang Yan kept watch for nearly an hour until the flames finally died out.

Bai Wuming clasped his hands. "Young Hero Tang, here our paths part. May we meet again."

"Bai Brother, you have business to attend to, so I won't delay you. If you ever pass through Que Mountain on your way back to the capital, please visit the Iron Sword Sect for a few days. I will be sure to offer you the warmest hospitality," Tang Yan said, now addressing Bai Wuming as brother and seeing him as his savior.

"Very well. Then, when the time comes, I shall ascend the mountain to pay my respects to Elder Tang and share a drink with you," Bai Wuming answered with a smile.

"I shall await your grand arrival at home," Tang Yan replied, joy lighting his face, bearing no trace of past resentment towards Bai Wuming.

With that, the two parted ways—Bai Wuming heading south, Tang Yan returning to the Fang family in Shenzhou.

As dusk approached, An Yi entered the city. Though there was still daylight, she had no desire to wander and found an inn that looked respectable, stepping inside.

A cheerful attendant greeted her. "Miss, are you stopping for a meal or seeking lodging?"

"I need a clean upper room."

"Certainly, miss. Please come in. I'll take your horse to the back for you."

Just then, the anguished cries of a woman came from outside the inn: "Daughter, wake up! Please wake up! Open your eyes and look at your mother! Oh, my ill-fated Liniang! Wake up!"

The innkeeper's wife, who had been dozing behind the counter, was instantly roused. "What a commotion! I'll go see what's happened."

An Yi paid little attention to the wailing outside. She took out some silver pieces and tossed them to the attendant. "Feed it the best fodder."

The attendant, beaming, pocketed the silver. "Rest assured, miss. I'll tell the stable hand to take excellent care."

As An Yi was about to follow the attendant to her room, the innkeeper's wife returned, sighing. "What a tragedy."

"What happened?" the innkeeper asked.

"Liniang threw herself into the river—they pulled her out, but she was already gone. They just carried her to the Jihuai Hall for Doctor Zhou to check, but he said there was no hope and told Sister Xing to take her home for burial. Poor woman, that's her only daughter, and she's crying her heart out," the innkeeper's wife sighed again. "That old Xing is too harsh—he wouldn't rest until he drove his daughter to death."

A thought stirred in An Yi's mind. She turned and walked out.

Across the street, a crowd had gathered outside the pharmacy, sighing and murmuring. An Yi squeezed through and saw, lying on a plank, a girl of about fifteen or sixteen, dressed in soaking wet clothes, her face blue, her abdomen swollen from the river water she had swallowed. A middle-aged woman clung to her, tears streaming down her face in utter grief.

An Yi looked at the woman and, in her mind, flashed the sorrowful face of Lady Luo—a mother bereft of her beloved daughter, inconsolable and desperate. Compassion stirred in An Yi's heart. She squatted beside the girl, checked her breath—none; lifted an eyelid, felt for a pulse, then pressed her hand to the girl's chest. "She can still be saved."

What is called music of the celestial realms? This simple sentence was just that—words from heaven!

The middle-aged woman looked up at An Yi, her lips trembling. She kowtowed, pleading, "Immortal, please save my daughter, I beg you, save her!"

An Yi began pressing and releasing the girl's abdomen, expelling the water from her mouth. Once most of it was out, An Yi took out her silver needles and inserted one each into the Baihui, Yongquan, Neiguan, and Renzhong points.

In moments, the girl's eyelashes trembled slightly, her lips twitched.

"She's alive! She's alive!" the onlookers exclaimed in unison.

An Yi withdrew the needles. The girl slowly opened her eyes, gazing at her tearful, runny-nosed mother and called out weakly, "Mother."

"Liniang, my poor daughter!" The woman hugged her daughter, weeping uncontrollably.

An Yi stood up. "Take her home for a change of clothes, then come to the inn. I'll write you a prescription."

The woman thanked her profusely and had someone help carry her daughter away.

Doctor Zhou from Jihuai Hall approached and saluted her. "Miss, your medical skills are extraordinary. To revive someone whose breath had ceased—may I ask, who is your master?"

An Yi glanced at the three characters above the pharmacy and smiled lightly. "My teacher's surname is Lu."

With that, she turned and walked back to the inn.

Half an hour later, Madam Xing and her husband came together and, entering the room, knelt and kowtowed. "Benefactor, your great kindness and virtue, we will never forget."

"Please rise." An Yi handed her the written prescription. "Take six doses as prescribed and she'll be fine."

"Thank you for your righteousness, benefactor. When my daughter is able to get up, I'll bring her to bow in gratitude," Madam Xing said, tears in her eyes.

"I'll be leaving tomorrow," An Yi replied calmly.

"Please stay a few more days, benefactor, so we may express our gratitude," Madam Xing pleaded.

"I have matters to attend to and cannot linger, but there are a few words I must say, which I hope you both will heed."

The couple exchanged glances. Old Xing said, "If you have advice, please speak freely."

"I asked the innkeeper's wife earlier and learned that your daughter tried to drown herself because you forced her to become a concubine for a wealthy family in the city. As the saying goes, 'Better a poor man's wife than a rich man's concubine.' Your daughter is spirited—if you persist in sending her off as a concubine, I fear that though I can save her once, I cannot save her a second time. All you'll gain in the end is a corpse," An Yi said, her gaze cold.

"Thank you for your concern. I will handle the matter and not let Liniang attempt such a thing again," Old Xing replied.

"Good. You may go now. I need to rest," An Yi said quietly.

Old Xing produced a silver ingot, placing it on the table. "Benefactor, you saved my daughter. I have nothing else to repay you with—please accept this silver."

"Take the silver back," An Yi said. Before she left, Ji Fanyi had prepared a large sum of silver and twenty gold leaves for her, as well as a gold token to draw more silver from the bank. Moreover, she had just collected three hundred taels in silver notes and dozens in loose silver from the black inn today—she lacked nothing.

Old Xing wanted to say more, but was silenced by An Yi's cold gaze. He took back the silver and left with Madam Xing.

After a while, the innkeeper's wife herself brought dinner—four dishes and a soup. Such a lavish meal for An Yi, free of charge, clearly had a purpose. The innkeeper's wife was over thirty, married for more than a decade, and still childless.

Seeing the hope in her eyes, An Yi could not refuse. She checked her pulse, wrote a prescription, and gave a few daily instructions.

The innkeeper's wife left with the prescription, overjoyed.

After the attendant brought hot water, An Yi undressed, soaked herself in the tub, and washed away the day's fatigue.

From outside came the sound of music, followed by someone singing: "Biting my fingertip, I pay no mind to the pain in my heart; ten fingers are linked to the heart and pain cuts through the liver and bowels. Forcing myself to write my sorrow in blood, Chunyu Tiying earnestly petitions the king. My father was an official in Taicang, loving the people as his own, teaching virtue... Long live the merciful and wise sovereign, who pardoned the minister and spared him disaster; when the blood-plea was finished, my breath was choked, but I beat the drum at noon before the palace to beg the king."

Listening to these lyrics, An Yi felt as though she had been struck by a revelation.

This was an era where the emperor reigned supreme; favor and fury alike were imperial grace. An Qinghe had gained power and wealth through military merit and so could easily discard his wife for another. Simply poisoning him was too merciful—it was necessary to strip him of power and fortune, leave him with nothing at all. Only then could her resentment be truly appeased.