"Lin Ya!" Elder Park's voice rang sharp through the Healing Division, cold and biting.

A slim young woman hurried forward, her robes still neat from morning chores. She bowed deeply, nervous under her master's gaze. "Disciple is here, Master."

Elder Park's lips twisted into a smile that was anything but kind. "Mo Han is leaving the mansion again. Follow him. Watch every step he takes, and do not disappoint me like Jumi did. If you return empty-handed, you will regret it."

"Yes, Master." Lin Ya bowed lower, her heart hammering. She didn't dare ask what fate had befallen Jumi to earn such venom in her master's tone. With quick steps, she faded into the night, trailing after the carriage that carried Mo Han away.

---

The wheels of the carriage creaked as it rolled deeper into the outskirts of Red-Silk City. The lanterns of the lively pleasure streets grew faint behind him, replaced by the silence of barren land. Dark trees lined the path, their shadows stretching like claws in the pale moonlight.

By the time the carriage stopped, Mo Han sensed he had entered hostile ground. Ahead stood a massive closed tent draped in black cloth, guarded by no less than a dozen cultivators, their auras sharp with killing intent. Each pair of eyes locked on him as he descended from the carriage.

The senior servant lady of the Healing Tower walked beside him, whispering in a low tone, "Stay calm. They won't harm you unless you fail. But you must remember—the patient inside is not an ordinary woman."

Mo Han gave her a faint smile. "If I let fear decide my hands, I would never have treated anyone."

The guards stepped aside reluctantly, but one of them warned in a gruff tone, "If you try anything suspicious, we'll tear you apart before you take a second breath."

Mo Han ignored the threat and followed inside.

The interior of the tent was thick with the scent of blood and bitter herbs. Several trays of medicine were scattered across the floor, most half-used. An old man sat hunched over a pale woman who lay on the bed, her chest rising shallowly, each breath a struggle.

Her robes were torn in many places, stained dark red. Deep cuts marred her arms, her legs, and a gash near her ribs oozed fresh blood despite layers of salve. Her face was drained of life, lips cracked, eyes barely open.

Mo Han's gaze sharpened—this woman had fought for her life, and lost too much of her strength. Whoever struck her wanted her dead, and only a desperate will to live had carried her this far.

The old man healer turned immediately, his eyes narrowing on Mo Han. "And who is this boy?" His tone was filled with disdain. "Have you lost your mind bringing a greenhorn here? This patient is at death's door! If you want to play with needles, do it on chickens, not on her!"

The senior servant clenched her fists but held her ground. "Master Li, I had no choice. You've tried for two days and she only worsens. The city's elders are either unwilling or incompetent to step forward. This man—" she pointed to Mo Han, "—is unique. His methods are nothing like ours. A pleasure healer who brings relief without pain. If anyone can ease her suffering, it is him."

"Ridiculous!" Master Li snapped, slamming the table. "Pleasure healer? A sham! A toy for bored women in the city, not a physician! You'll doom her with this farce."

Mo Han stepped forward calmly, his presence steady like an immovable rock. "Enough arguing," he said softly. "Let me see her."

The guards stirred uneasily at his confidence, but the woman on the bed let out a faint cough that silenced them all. Her lips moved, barely forming words. "...try…"

The senior servant leaned close. "You heard her. She wants him to try."

Master Li glared, but his shoulders slumped. "Very well. When she dies, her blood will be on your hands."

Mo Han ignored him. He moved to the bed, kneeling beside the woman. His fingers brushed her wrist, feeling the weak, chaotic pulse. The qi in her body was torn, scattered like broken threads. His eyes swept over her wounds again—many were from sharp blades, others from spiritual attacks. Her meridians were scorched.

"She escaped from someone who wanted her dead," Mo Han murmured to himself. "A miracle she's still alive."

The woman's eyes flickered faintly open, catching his gaze. Her lips trembled. "...save…"

Mo Han lowered his voice, steady and sure. "You won't die here. Trust me."

The senior servant clasped her hands, whispering a prayer. Master Li snorted but said nothing more.

Mo Han reached into his storage ring, pulling out a set of silver needles that gleamed faintly under the lantern light. His fingers flowed with aura as he warmed them, then he rolled up his sleeves.

Master Li scoffed. "Needles? Her body is torn apart, and you want to poke holes in her? Fool!"

Mo Han didn't even glance at him. He pressed the first needle into her lower abdomen, channeling a thin stream of aura. The woman's body jerked, a strangled cry escaping her lips. But her face, once twisted in pain, eased slightly. Her breathing steadied.

Gasps filled the tent. Even the guards exchanged uneasy glances.

"What… what did he do?" one whispered.

Mo Han's focus was unshaken. He inserted the second needle near her rib wound, then the third on her forehead. Each time, a ripple of aura surged, and the woman's complexion grew less ashen.

"She's responding…" the senior servant murmured, tears in her eyes.

Master Li's jaw tightened, his disbelief plain. "Impossible…"

Mo Han closed his eyes, drawing on the knowledge buried deep within Leo Reynold's memories. He summoned the technique of balancing Yin and Yang flows, guiding the woman's shattered meridians to reconnect, if only temporarily.

The woman gasped again, but this time her voice was stronger. "...warm… so warm…"

Her pale lips curved faintly, the first sign of life since she'd been laid in this bed.

Mo Han's gaze sharpened. "Good. Hold on. Don't let go."

He pressed his palm gently against her chest wound, letting his aura seep in like a tide. A thin stream of blackened blood oozed out, releasing the poisonous energy trapped inside.

The tent fell silent except for the sound of her breathing growing steadier, less ragged.

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