Chapter 88: The Frail Young Man

The arrogance of the two men stirred the crowd’s anger, prompting a chorus of condemnation. The pair said nothing, merely drew a token from their robes and held it up for all to see. Those who recognized it fell silent at once; those who did not, quieted after a subtle nudge from those who did, rising to leave.

An Yi didn’t know what the token meant, but after witnessing its intimidating effect, she obediently followed the others outside. She had no intention of playing the heroine and standing up to such villains.

Just then, the woman walking ahead of An Yi collapsed without warning. Instinctively, An Yi reached out to catch her, but the gray-clad man beside the woman was quicker, gently lowering her to the ground.

An Yi saw the woman convulsing, foaming at the mouth—her symptoms resembled a seizure.

Clearly, the woman had suffered these attacks before; the gray-clad man was practiced in handling them. He grabbed two chopsticks from the table, placing them crosswise in her mouth to prevent her from biting her tongue.

People gradually filed out of the tea pavilion until only seven remained: the proprietor and his wife, the sick woman, the gray-clad man, An Yi, and the two arrogant men.

“You three, hurry up and get out,” one of the men barked.

“My lord, my wife has fallen ill and cannot be moved. Please, allow her to rest here for a while. Once she’s better, we’ll leave immediately,” pleaded the gray-clad man, hands clasped in supplication.

“No. Out, now!” the man demanded harshly.

Helpless, the gray-clad man prepared to move the woman.

“Wait,” An Yi interjected. She crouched beside the woman, checked her pulse, and produced silver needles. She swiftly pierced four acupoints: Neiguan, Shuigou, Baihui, and Houxi. “Take off her shoes and socks,” she instructed.

“That… seems improper,” the gray-clad man hesitated, rubbing his hands anxiously.

“Is her life or her dignity more important?” An Yi asked coldly.

His lips quivered as he glanced at the impatient man glaring at him. Deciding it best to follow An Yi’s advice, he helped the woman remove her shoes and socks.

An Yi inserted needles into the Yongquan and Jinmen points.

“Hurry up and stop getting in the way,” the man shouted.

“Wei Shi, don’t trouble the public like this while traveling,” a clear voice called from outside the tea pavilion.

An Yi looked up. Outside stood an enormous, ornate sedan chair carried by four burly men. Two beautiful maids in green stood in front, lifting the curtain.

Inside sat a fair-skinned lady, her delicate brows and bright eyes framed by a loose, elegant chignon adorned with a purple phoenix hairpin, clad in sumptuous attire. Beside her was a boy of thirteen or fourteen, dressed in a yellow brocade robe, his face pale with illness.

The boy raised a fist to his mouth, coughed twice, and said, “Mother, we only need a table, a cup of tea, and a rest. There’s no need to drive everyone out.”

“That won’t do. These people reek of sweat and will surely offend your senses,” the lady replied.

The boy sighed softly. “Mother, it’s hot. I’m sweating too.”

“Nonsense! You are always cool and fragrant, never sweaty,” she insisted.

As they spoke, the two maids fetched two large trunks from the sedan, prepared a table, wiped it clean with silk cloths, and opened the trunks. They placed silver carved cups and a teapot on the table, pouring hot tea, then arranged six exquisite pastries: crystal lotus cake, snow tea crisps, nectar biscuits, tuckahoe cake, phoenix-tail pastry, and honeyed pearl dates.

The commoners outside had never seen such refined treats; they licked their lips and swallowed hungrily.

An Yi glanced at them, indifferent, and continued adjusting her silver needles.

The lady and boy entered, sitting gracefully at the table to sip tea and enjoy the pastries.

An Yi removed the needles and swiftly pierced the woman’s Yingxiang, Ermen, and Yifeng points. The lady’s eyes flickered as she watched An Yi’s deft hands.

After about a quarter hour, the sick woman awakened.

The gray-clad man’s face lit with joy. He helped her to a seat and thanked An Yi profusely. “Thank you, divine doctor! Thank you!”

An Yi replied coolly, “Borrow paper and ink from the proprietor; I’ll write you a prescription. After a few doses, the attacks should rarely occur.”

He helped the woman to the table and brought paper, ink, brush, and inkstone.

An Yi dipped her brush in ink and wrote a prescription for epilepsy, then handed the man a ten-tael silver ingot.

He accepted the prescription but refused the silver. “You’ve treated my wife. I should pay you, not take your money.”

“Scrophularia, bezoar, and musk are costly medicines,” An Yi said, tossing him the silver. “I treat patients to cure, not to leave them half alive.”

“Thank you, divine doctor!” The man and woman knelt, bowing gratefully.

“No need for thanks. Go quickly and buy the medicine,” An Yi said, shouldering her bundle and heading outside.

“Girl, you have a kind heart and impressive skill. May I ask who your master is?” the lady in fine attire inquired.

She hadn’t addressed her by name, so An Yi saw no reason to respond. The two maids moved swiftly, blocking her path. “Our lady wishes to speak with you.”

“Mother, don’t trouble her. Let her go,” the boy said.

“I’m not making things difficult. I simply noticed her skill and wish to have her examine you,” the lady replied with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. Everyone in the martial world knew she traveled with her son, seeking famed physicians. If this girl dared show off in her presence, she would ensure the girl never left.

“Mother, please don’t commit more sins for my sake,” the boy pleaded.

“Don’t say such things. Am I some bloodthirsty villain?” the lady retorted, casting a sidelong glance at An Yi. “If she’s brave enough to try, she must have some ability. If she cures you, I’ll thank her; why would I harm her?”

“Mother, so many renowned doctors have failed to cure me. She’s just a girl; let her go,” he urged.

“Renowned doctors? Mere fame-seekers,” the lady scoffed.

“If they lacked skill, what about Grandmaster?”

The lady was momentarily speechless.

“Mother, there are four years until I turn eighteen. Please let me live these four years in peace,” the boy said, his smile gentle as clouds and wind.

Her eyes reddened. “Four years? No, you must live forty, fifty, sixty, and long beyond. Rui’er, don’t make me—don’t let a mother bury her child.”

The boy’s expression darkened. “Mother…”

The lady turned to glare at An Yi, still blocked by the maids. “Come here and examine Rui’er.”

An Yi sensed the boy’s goodness and pitied his short fate, but she despised the lady’s behavior. Curling her lips in a cold smile, she said, “I don’t treat just anyone. I have three conditions.”

The lady sneered, her gaze sharp. “And what are they?”

Unafraid, An Yi slung her bundle over her shoulder and touched the gold bracelet on her left hand. “First, the patient must be female. Second, I must find her pleasing. Third, it depends on my mood.”

A flash of icy light crossed the lady’s eyes. “Arrogant girl! You court death.”

With that, she charged.

“Mother, stop!” the boy cried urgently.

An Yi had anticipated this sudden attack. As the lady approached, An Yi quickly retreated, flicking two packets of anesthetic powder. Outnumbered, she needed to incapacitate them first.

The lady’s movements were swift; in moments, she closed the distance and struck with both palms.

An Yi dodged left and right, bending and twisting, narrowly avoiding the first four blows. The fifth, a right palm aimed at her face, left no time to dodge; she had to meet it head-on. At the same time, she flicked three silver needles.

“Be careful, Mother!” the boy shouted.

“Such paltry tricks!” the lady scoffed, sweeping her palm to deflect the needles.

Onlookers fled, fearing for their safety, leaving only the lady’s retinue.

An Yi formed a hand seal with her left thumb and middle finger, twisting her meridians to launch a volley of sleeve darts. The lady’s expression shifted; she leaned back, kicking the darts aside.

An Yi hurled another packet of powder, while her left hand sent a second row of darts.

The lady struggled to counter An Yi’s endless surprises, retreating several steps and waving her sleeve to disperse the powder. She never expected An Yi to ignore martial etiquette, using hidden weapons and such low tactics.

Thud, thud, thud, thud—the four sedan bearers collapsed first.

The lady was horrified, darting back to her son. “Rui’er, hold your breath!”

Seizing the chance, An Yi leaped onto her horse, spurring it into a wild gallop.

“Mother, I’m all right,” the boy said, taking a porcelain bottle from his robe, placing a pill in his mouth, and handing the bottle to his mother.

Four more attendants fell.

“Wretched little witch, if you have the courage, leave your name!” the lady shouted angrily as An Yi disappeared into the distance.

An Yi, far away, gave a scornful laugh. That woman was such a fool.

“Mother, let her go,” the boy said.

The lady stamped her foot in frustration, then focused on reviving her followers. Once they were awake, she commanded, “Qiaozhu, issue a bounty for her capture at once!”

“Mother, you mustn’t,” the boy protested.

“And why not?” The lady, seasoned in the martial world, had never suffered such humiliation.

“Mother, look at the mark on these silver needles.” The boy handed her the needle.

She examined it closely. “Ah! The Dragon King’s Temple is flooding its own halls.”

“Mother, Father warned you not to act rashly, not to strike indiscriminately, lest you harm one of our own. You never listen, and now you’ve caused fratricide. If Grandmaster finds out, he’ll be furious,” the boy sighed.

The lady’s eyes sparkled. “Fratricide? Don’t be absurd. I was merely sparring with my junior sister.”

“Mother, you’re just making excuses,” he laughed.

“I speak only the truth.”

He shook his head with a gentle smile. “You’d best think of a way to apologize to your junior sister soon.”

“I understand. Qiaozhu, go after her on horseback.”

Qiaozhu received her orders and departed.