Song Ying Jie was dismayed that their first day at Spring Wind Village would last this long, but was not smart enough to understand that the events were foreseen or even orchestrated by his companion. He was fully getting ready to sleep off his guilt for crippling someone’s meridians when he realized that Wayseeker Crow was now demanding his accompaniment downstairs.

Song Ying Jie timidly followed Yin Na as they entered the kitchen, greeted by the miserable cries of the innkeeper’s nieces and grandnieces.

“Sir Daoist!” pleaded the innkeeper. “Please, we don’t know what happened to Yong Fei but he seems to have suffered a deadly internal injury earlier! Even though Yong Fei offended you and young master, he is a long time friend of our family— if you can save him we will forever be in your debt!”

“Uncle Yong Fei!” one of the grandnephews cried. “You said you’d teach me gong fu, you can’t die yet!”

In between their cries, blood would spray from Yong Fei’s mouth, making the family’s cries louder.

“Please, sir Daoist!” pleaded the family on their knees. “We’ll pay you a silver tael! No, we’ll give you back all your taels if you’d save him!”

“Enough!” Yin Na barked. “I, Wayseeker Crow, am not a petty man. I always pay enmity with kindness, and return kindness threefold! To think that I’d treat this man that we harmed ourselves by taking back the money I paid you, what kind of Daoist do you think I am?!”

Yin Na’s volume and tone quelled the family, who quieted down in shame. Seriously though, who did they think he was? Yin Na was a former cultivator who did investments and ventures in Spirit Stones, even gold taels were as precious as rice kernels to him!

The smell of Yong Fei’s blood mixed with his vomit infiltrated Yin Na’s nostrils as he stepped into the kitchen. He stood over the man laid on the kitchen table who was wheezing like a wounded deer.

“...”

Everyone in the kitchen was staring at him with expectations.

Under Yin Na’s bamboo hat, beads of sweat gathered on his forehead which were thankfully covered by his hat. Although Yin Na was calm on the outside, he was actually quite troubled at the moment.

“Hmmm,” thought Yin Na. “This is kind of troubling. I was never a master of medicine, and while Deng Taifan from the Brick taught me about medicinal pill recipes, I don’t have my void ring or any of my ingredients with me anymore. I can’t do alchemy with a 99 percent chance of success without the Brick, and I don’t have any actual knowledge of repairing meridians.”

Yin Na clicked his tongue.

“Ying Jie,” Yin Na said.

“Y-yes?” Song Ying Jie was nervous.

“Start looking for the doctors in this village, or anyone who knows medicine. Use some taels from our pack in the stables as you see fit.”

Song Ying Jie stopped himself from nearly asking, “But how will I do that?” in front of all these people. Yin Na noticed the restraint and hesitation on the young martial artist’s face while simultaneously also noticing how quickly Ying Jie ran off to obey the order. Sometimes, the best way for a child to learn is to throw him into the wild to fend for himself! And of course, he also knew of Song Ying Jie’s guilt— it doesn’t feel comfortable to be left alone in a room with the same man you mortally injured yourself earlier.

However, Yin Na had a reputation to uphold as Daoist Wayseeker Crow. As stated earlier, Yin Na doesn’t care much about losing silver. Although he’d rather trust the task of seeking out the village doctor (and his wealth) to himself, as far as these villagers were concerned he was a legit Daoist, which automatically made him the foremost authority on medicines and healing of the human body in the eyes of mortals. How could he just leave his clueless companion to overlook Yong Fei instead?

Mortals had their own albeit diluted understanding of magical recovery methods, passed down from the Immortal and Cultivation world down to mortal hearsay and speculation. Ideas of elixir, medicinal pills made from ingredients from wild nature, therapeutic practices and exercises for supplementing different bodily systems or prolonging a weakening one, but these were nothing compared to the methods of actual Cultivators.

However, the only method which Yin Na knew was alchemy, and he was unable to perform it without the right ingredients or an alchemy furnace.

“Hmm,” Yin Na brought his face close to Yong Fei and could smell the bile from his vomit and blood. “Was it just bad luck?”

“W-what?” Yong Fei coughed through the fluids in this throat.

“Were you always a battle maniac? You know, one of those battle-crazy martial artists in the Jiang Hu, looking to prove his self worth to himself through challenging every stranger who stepped foot in Spring Wind village? Or were you sent by someone?”

“What?!” Yong Fei almost coughed blood out of anger instead of liver damage.

“Who are you working with?” Yin Na pressed on, whispering through his face mask. “Why did you brazenly challenge two strangers in your village by yourself? Do you have some standing; who is backing you?”

“N-no one,” said Yong Fei miserably. “I don’t belong to a sect or martial arts school! I…I just wanted to fight. I’ve trained in martial arts for most of my life but this was the first I’ve lost.”

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“Bullying cripples and woman don’t count as fighting,” Yin Na snapped. “Why are you close to the innkeeper? Why is the entire family trying to save your worthless dog ass so hard?”

Yong Fei fell silent, gritting his teeth through the pain. “If you save me, I’ll answer all the questions you want.”

Yin Na said, “Can’t you see your place right now? You’re in no position to do anything else but cooperate. However, I did promise you I’d save you, but you’re going to have to stay conscious by answering all my questions. Starting with this: who is your master?”

“C-Chen Shifu,” said Yong Fei. “He was from Shaolin who wanted me to follow the way of Buddha, but…”

“But?” Yin Na appeared impatient. He made it look like he was examining Yong Fei’s condition by exaggeratingly scanning over his body and checking pulses or nonexistent acupressure points in front of the villagers while talking quietly to him. However, he was actually trying to earnestly think of a way to recover Yong Fei’s condition.

“But I like eating meat and drinking alcohol!” Yong Fei said with shame, almost tearing up in addition to spewing blood. “Oh, Chen Shifu, you’ve been warning me but now I see I have forsaken Buddha!”

“Don’t be dramatic,” scoffed Yin Na. He already judged this man’s nature earlier upstairs when he looked into his defeated eyes. “You’re not going to be giving up meat any sooner than you’ll be giving up booze once we repair your liver. I bet you’re a lecher too. Anyway, do you know which meridian clusters are broken?”

“I think just one…” said Yong Fei. Evidently— even on the verge of death, a martial artist keeps their meridians a secret.

Yin Na had an idea. He thought, “Maybe it’s possible if I think backwards. Using my knowledge of how medicine works for cultivators, perhaps I can reverse-deduct the healing process for mortals. Cultivators have active Dan Tians, martial artists have meridians.”

Yin Na derived inspiration from this minor epiphany. After another hour, Song Ying Jie returned with a handful of elderly-looking men from the village. It was impossible for even a big village to have this many actual doctors. Yin Na could assume with just a glance that these men of varying shabbiness in appearance and dignity were mostly lured by Song Ying Jie’s promise of paying them a whole tael each merely for showing up.

“You did good, Ying Jie,” praised Yin Na. Then he whispered, “I was worried that you’d offer an old geezer the entire cart of taels or something just to show up.”

Upon hearing these words, Song Ying Jie’s forehead began forming thick drops of sweat, and he squirmed in place like a child caught red-handed.

“Er, Crow Bro…” said Song Ying Jie. “That’s the problem…I said I’d offer anyone who cured him a hundred taels.”

Yin Na’s eyes were calm above his face mask, as if he expected this outcome all along.

“Ying Jie, Ying Jie… can you count, Ying Jie? Do we even have a hundred taels in our cart? Ah, don’t beat yourself up about it. No matter, I will clear any misunderstandings with these doctors towards the end. I know what to do.”

Even if there was a miracle— such as an actual healer among these men who could save Yong Fei’s ruptured liver and even restore his meridians, Yin Na would not have allowed such a person to steal the show from him. He intended from the get-go to learn what he could from the people Song Ying Jie gathered in as short a time as possible!

“I need to hold a ‘dialogue,’” said Yin Na. “A… ‘conference,’ behind closed doors. Everyone, out of the kitchen except these men!”

Even Song Ying Jie was ordered to stand guard outside the door instead.

The innkeeper and his family trembled, out of fear for the men’s safety who were left with Yin Na. They had seen enough of his ruthless nature when fighting Yong Fei to infer that Yin Na was extorting them in the kitchen or something.

…

“Alright, which one of you are real physicians?” Yin Na said once Song Ying Jie shut the door.

“Me,” said one old man, who looked the least fatigued in coming here at night.

Then seven of the eight men began saying that they, too, were also physicians or had experience in treating wounds.

“A herbalist or seller of medicine is not a doctor. A man’s life is at stake, this isn’t some joke. I will pay you one tael each to leave without shame.”

After saying this, Yin Na tossed a silver tael at the one middle-aged man who caught it; examined it; then bowed in gratitude and many thanks before scrambling out the door.

Yin Na then said: “Now, if this patient dies and you’re still in this room, I will fine each and every one of you ten taels!”

None of the men took the time to pause and question where and how this mysterious “Daoist” earned the right to fine them for their failure, or if they even had enough taels in their personal savings combined to meet Yin Na’s request. The combination of fatigue from being yanked out of their sleep with Yin Na’s domineering personality clouded their judgment for that night.

Soon, only the first elderly man who spoke up remained in the room. The other six men left happily with a silver tael each back to their beds.

“Okay,” Yin Na looked at the old doctor. “It was possible that there was one or more real physicians among the men who left. Those people smartly made the decision to avoid calamity by settling for small rewards, but you obviously stayed behind because you think you can earn the cart of taels for saving this patient, right?”

“Not wrong,” said the old man with confidence.

Yin Na clasped his hands and said, “I hate to tell you, senior, but my companion spoke brashly and without much thought to his words. We cannot offer you the entire cart of our travel funds. Instead, I will pay you ten taels if we can save Yong Fei tonight.”

The old man was silent for three breaths. Then he threw his head back and laughed in a manner very unlike his age.

“Now who’s the one bargaining over a man’s life?” He laughed. “Haha! I refuse. You give me the entire cart or I will leave.”

Yin Na was shocked, but did not let it show or derail his momentum.

“Twenty taels,” said Yin Na.

“Don’t insult me,” the old man said, no longer laughing. “You will pay me the entire cart, ‘Daoist,’ or else risk losing face in front of everyone in Spring Wind Village.”

Yin Na glared at the old man, but no words came out of his mouth.

“What are you going to do— fine me ten taels?” the old man continued, not the slightest bit intimidated.

“Old geezer,” Yin Na growled. “Did you ever even come close to owning ten taels in your life?”

“The only other thing you can do is kill me, right?” The old man chuckled.

Yin Na’s eyes flashed with an intimidating glare before the old man continued, “Ah, but you can’t do that. It’s clear from your actions tonight in rounding up all the ‘physicians’ in Spring Wind Village that you don’t know the first thing about medicine. You’re either a very bad Daoist or a fake demonic one! If Yong Fei dies, it will look bad for you, wouldn’t it?”