The West Market of Mortal Dust City was a assault on the senses. unlike the East Market, which sold silk and spirit artifacts, the West Market was reserved for the raw, bloody business of survival.
Butchers hacked apart carcasses with cleavers the size of shovels. Tanners worked hides in vats of acrid urine. Farmers sold livestock that screeched, bleated, and defecated in the muddy streets.
Li Fan walked through the muck, his bamboo hat pulled low. He didn't cringe at the smell. In Life 400, he had lived in a swamp for a decade to master a poison technique. Compared to that, this was a flower garden.
He stopped in front of a stall that smelled particularly pungent. A burly farmer was selling sacks of dried fodder.
"Fresh feed!" the farmer shouted, spitting a wad of tobacco onto the ground. "Fat pigs mean fat purses! Get your Fire-Wisp Grass here!"
Li Fan stepped forward. "How much for a handful?"
The farmer blinked, looking down at the dusty, mysterious figure. "Handful? We sell by the sack, friend. Two copper coins for a sack."
"I only need a handful," Li Fan rasped. "And a bowl of fresh boar blood."
The farmer scratched his head. "You... you ain't feeding a pig, are you?"
"I'm feeding a very specific kind of pig," Li Fan said, his voice flat.
He threw two copper coins onto the wooden table. "Keep the sack. Just give me the grass and the blood."
The farmer shrugged. Money was money. He grabbed a handful of the dried, reddish grass—which looked like burnt straw—and shoved it into a paper bag. Then he took a wooden ladle, dipped it into a bucket of dark, coagulating blood from a freshly slaughtered boar, and poured it into a cheap clay bowl Li Fan held out.
"Fresh and warm," the farmer grunted. "Don't drink it all at once."
Li Fan took the items and walked away, leaving the confused farmer behind.
He found a secluded dead-end alley between a tannery and a warehouse. It was shadowed and damp, hidden from the main street.
Li Fan placed the bowl of blood on an overturned crate.
He opened the bag of Fire-Wisp Grass.
To the ignorant, this grass was trash. It grew wild in volcanic soil and had a mild, spicy heat. Farmers fed it to livestock in the winter to keep them warm. It contained a trace amount of Yang energy—so small that cultivators considered it useless.
But Li Fan knew the principles of the Dao better than any Grandmaster in this city.
The City Lord's daughter has the Nine-Yin Meridians, Li Fan analyzed, crushing the dry grass in his hand until it turned into a coarse red powder.
Her body is an ocean of ice. The Alchemists are trying to cure her with 'Sun Pills' or 'Dragon Fire Elixirs'. They are trying to boil the ocean. That only creates steam—which explains her fever at midnight.
He sprinkled the red powder into the bowl of boar blood.
You don't fight the ocean with fire. You fight it with earth.
Boar blood was heavy. It was dense, grounded, and rich in vitality. It was the anchor. The Fire-Wisp Grass was the spark.
Li Fan used a chopstick to stir the mixture.
The red powder dissolved into the black blood. The mixture began to bubble slightly, releasing a smell that was truly, indescribably awful. It smelled like wet dog fur burning in a slaughterhouse.
It turned into a thick, black sludge that clung to the chopstick like tar.
"The Yin-Yang Anchoring Soup," Li Fan whispered, naming the abomination. "Total cost: Two copper coins. Market value: The entire treasury of Mortal Dust City."
He poured the sludge into a small leather waterskin he had brought with him. He sealed it tight, hiding the smell.
He wiped his hands on the alley wall, adjusted his bamboo hat, and stepped back out into the light.
"Time to play doctor."
The City Lord's Manor
The Manor was a fortress within the city. High stone walls, reinforced with steel, surrounded a compound of gardens, pavilions, and administrative halls.
Usually, the gates of the City Lord's Manor were guarded by two soldiers. Today, there were ten.
They wore the heavy, black-iron armor of the City Guard elites. Their hands rested on the hilts of their swords. Tension radiated from them like heat waves.
They were tired. They were scared.
For weeks, the Manor had been plagued by screams. At night, the temperature in the inner courtyard dropped so low that frost covered the windows. Servants whispered that a demon had possessed the Young Miss.
"Halt!"
The Captain of the Guard stepped forward as Li Fan approached. He was a cultivator at the 3rd Layer of Qi Condensation—strong for a mortal city guard.
He looked at Li Fan with suspicion. The bamboo hat, the dusty robes, the rusty sword on his back. This man looked like a beggar, or worse, a scavenger.
"State your business," the Captain barked. "The Manor is closed to petitioners."
Li Fan didn't stop. He walked until he was five paces from the Captain.
"I am here for the reward," Li Fan said. His altered voice was calm, deep, and raspy.
The Captain scoffed. "Another one? Listen, vagrant. We've had fifty 'doctors' in the last week. Monks, priests, shamans... one guy even tried to dance the sickness away. The City Lord has lost his patience. If you're a fraud, he won't just kick you out. He'll take your head."
The other guards snickered, their hands tightening on their spears. They were looking for an excuse to vent their frustration. Beating a beggar seemed like good stress relief.
"Turn around," the Captain ordered, pointing his spear at Li Fan's chest. "Before I arrest you for loitering."
Li Fan slowly raised his head.
Under the shadow of the bamboo hat, his eyes locked onto the Captain's.
He didn't circulate his Qi. He was only at Layer 1; his spiritual pressure was negligible compared to the Captain's Layer 3.
But Li Fan didn't use Qi. He used Intent.
In his 999th life, Li Fan had been a Demon Lord. He had walked through battlefields where rivers of blood flowed up to his ankles. He had sat on a throne made of enemy skulls. He had stared down gods and spat in their faces.
That memory—that absolute, crushing weight of a soul that had slaughtered millions—was still there. It was buried deep, but Li Fan opened the door just a crack.
Boom.
To the physical world, nothing happened. No wind blew. No dust stirred.
But to the Captain's mind, the world went black.
He felt like he had just been dropped into a pit of freezing water. He looked at the man in the bamboo hat and didn't see a beggar. He saw a mountain of corpses. He saw a pair of eyes that looked at him not as a human, but as a piece of meat to be butchered.
The killing intent was so concentrated, so pure, that the Captain's primal lizard brain screamed one word: PREDATOR.
Clang.
The spear slipped from the Captain's sweating hands and hit the cobblestones.
The other guards froze, their knees buckling. They didn't know why, but they suddenly felt the urge to run, to hide, to be anywhere but in front of this man.
Li Fan held the gaze for one second longer, then let the pressure vanish.
"I said," Li Fan repeated softly, "I am here for the reward. Do not make me say it a third time."
The Captain gasped, sucking in air as if he had been drowning. He stumbled back, clutching his chest. His face was pale, sweat dripping from his nose.
"Let... let him pass," the Captain wheezed, waving a trembling hand at his subordinates. "Open the gate!"
The heavy iron gates creaked open.
Li Fan didn't gloat. He didn't smile. He stepped over the fallen spear and walked into the courtyard.
As he passed the Captain, he paused.
"Your breathing is shallow," Li Fan whispered without looking at him. "And your left meridian is blocked. Stop drinking Fire-Wine, or you'll be dead in three years."
He walked on, leaving the Captain staring at his back in terrified awe.
The Inner Sanctum
The interior of the Manor was oppressive. The beautiful gardens were withered, the flowers killed by the unnatural cold radiating from the central building. Servants scurried with their heads down, looking terrified.
A steward, an old man with a hunched back, met Li Fan at the entrance to the main hall. He had seen the interaction at the gate and was smart enough to be polite.
"Master Physician," the steward bowed nervously. "Please, follow me. The City Lord is... in a foul mood."
Li Fan followed him through the winding corridors. The air grew colder with every step. By the time they reached the door to the Young Miss's chamber, Li Fan could see his breath misting in the air.
The Yin energy is leaking, Li Fan noted. She is close to the breaking point.
The steward pushed open the double doors.
The room was large and lavishly decorated, but currently, it looked like a battlefield hospital.
Braziers of burning coal were placed every few feet, fighting a losing war against the chill. In the center of the room lay a massive bed covered in furs. A small figure lay beneath them, shivering violently.
Standing by the bed were two men.
One was a middle-aged man in luxurious golden robes—City Lord Su Chang. He looked exhausted, his eyes red-rimmed, his hair disheveled. He was pacing back and forth, wringing his hands.
The other was an old man in white robes, holding a jade staff. He radiated the aura of a Qi Condensation Layer 6 cultivator. His nose was high in the air, and he looked at the girl with disdain.
"City Lord," the white-robed old man said, his voice dripping with arrogance. "I have told you. This is a curse from a Demonic Spirit. My 'Pure Yang Pill' is the only hope. But it costs five thousand Spirit Stones. If you cannot pay, I cannot help."
"Five thousand..." The City Lord's voice cracked. "Grandmaster Liu, I have given you two thousand already! And she is getting worse!"
"Medicine is a process!" Grandmaster Liu snapped. "Do you question my expertise? I am an Alchemist from the Azure Cloud Sect!"
"City Lord," the steward interrupted timidly from the doorway. "Another... physician has arrived."
The City Lord spun around. His eyes landed on Li Fan.
He saw the bamboo hat. The dusty robes. The rusty sword.
Disappointment crashed onto his face.
"A beggar?" Su Chang roared, his patience finally snapping. "You bring me a beggar? Get out! Get out before I have you flogged!"
Li Fan stepped into the room. The cold air swirled around him, but he didn't shiver.
"Grandmaster Liu," Li Fan said, ignoring the City Lord and addressing the old man. His voice was calm, cutting through the shouting. "You prescribed a Pure Yang Pill for a Yin-Yang Severing pulse?"
Grandmaster Liu stiffened. "Who are you to question me, peasant?"
"A Pure Yang Pill introduces violent fire energy," Li Fan continued, walking toward the bed. "If she takes that pill in her current state, her meridians will shatter like glass poured with boiling water. She won't be cured. She will explode."
The room went silent.
Grandmaster Liu turned purple. "You... you dare! Guard! Arrest this madman!"
Li Fan stopped at the foot of the bed. He looked at the City Lord.
"He wants five thousand stones to kill your daughter," Li Fan said. "I will save her for free."
He pulled the waterskin from his belt and uncorked it.
The smell of rotten blood and spicy grass instantly filled the room, overpowering the scent of the incense and coal.
Grandmaster Liu gagged, covering his nose. "What is that filth? Is that... pig blood?"
"It's the cure," Li Fan said.
The City Lord looked at the black sludge. He looked at Li Fan's calm, hidden eyes. Then he looked at his dying daughter.
"You have one chance," the City Lord whispered, his hand resting on the hilt of his ceremonial sword. "If this is a trick... you will not leave this room alive."
Li Fan poured the sludge into a cup.
"Hold her head up," Li Fan ordered.
The game of life and death had begun. And Li Fan held all the winning cards.