As Wang Fang took a slow, heavy step toward the closed entrance of the Medicine Hall, a sharp click resonated through the quiet courtyard. The thick oak door suddenly swung open, but it wasn't the elderly physician who appeared.
Instead, a young man dressed in the pale blue robes of a medical disciple stepped out, slamming the heavy door shut behind him. His face was twisted in a volatile mixture of raw grief and absolute fury.
"Stop right there," the disciple barked, his voice shaking with rage as he planted his feet firmly on the threshold, completely blocking the path. He glared down at Wang Fang, his knuckles turning white as he clenched his fists. "After what you did to my master... you actually dare to show your face here again? Tell me, are you here to finish the job? Are you here to kill him?!"
The accusation hit Wang Fang like a physical blow. He flinched instinctively, his small stature making him look incredibly fragile against the towering disciple.
"No... don't say that," Wang Fang said, his voice quiet but steady as his adult intellect struggled to maintain composure. "It was never my fault. I never intended for any of this to happen."
"Oh, it's not your fault?" The disciple let out a hollow, bitter laugh that echoed painfully against the stone walls. "If it's not your fault, then whose is it?! He was just trying to help you! He spent centuries building his cultivation base, dedicating his entire life to the art of medicine, and what did he get in return for trying to save you? You turned him into a helpless, broken cripple—just like you! You low-blooded bastard!"
The venomous words struck Wang Fang straight in the face.
Internally, his mature soul reeled from the impact. Even though he possessed the mind of a grown adult, his physical vessel was still that of a young child, making it impossible to completely escape the raw, emotional sting of the insult. His chest tightened as a suffocating mixture of guilt and shame washed over him. He knew he was viewed as a cripple in the eyes of this world, but hearing his existence weaponized against a man who had tried to heal him cut deep into his pride.
Before the disciple could utter another word, the heavy wooden door behind him clicked once more. It creaked open slowly, revealing a tragic figure that made both of them freeze.
Wang Fang's breath hitched in his throat.
Standing in the doorway, leaning heavily against the frame for support, was Doctor Li. But the proud, dignified master from two days ago was entirely gone. In his place stood a painfully fragile, broken old man. His once-dark hair had completely transformed, turning into a stark, snowy white that matched the pale, unhealthy tint of his wrinkled skin. His posture was severely hunched, his breathing shallow and ragged. He had been completely stripped of the vibrant spiritual energy that had kept him youthful for hundreds of years.
This... this is Doctor Li? Wang Fang thought, his heart sinking into a dark pit of profound remorse. The physical reality of the damage was devastating to witness.
"Master!" the disciple shouted in utter panic, turning around immediately to support the old man's swaying frame. "No! Please go back inside! He is an ill-omened curse! You shouldn't let him near you, Master! He will only bring you more ruin!"
"Enough..." Doctor Li wheezed. His voice was raspy and completely devoid of its former power, yet it still carried a faint, lingering trace of his ancient authority. He raised a trembling, pale hand to dismiss his student. "No... he is the Young Master of the Crimson Clan. If he has come to seek counsel, then we must fulfill our duty."
"But Master! Look at yourself!" Tears of pure frustration welled in the disciple's eyes as he gestured wildly to the old man's fragile frame. "A proud Foundation Establishment expert... turned into a broken mortal in just a single day! I don't care about clan hierarchy or politics anymore—this Young Master is a danger to everyone! He deserves to be thrown out of this clan permanently!"
"Shut up!" Doctor Li suddenly shouted, his voice cracking under the immense strain as a violent fit of coughing seized his chest. He clutched his ribs, his bloodshot eyes glaring at his student with absolute disapproval. "How dare you speak such treasonous words? Have you forgotten your manners? He is the rightful heir of the Wang bloodline!"
The disciple's jaw tightened, his chest heaving as he prepared to argue back. "But Master, I only—"
"Shh," Doctor Li cut him off sharply, placing a single, shaking finger to his own dry lips. His gaze was unyielding. "Not another word. Leave us. Now."
The disciple stood frozen for a split second, his face flushing with a dangerous mix of anger, grief, and bitter resentment. He glared down at Wang Fang one last time, a silent vow of hatred burning in his eyes, before spinning on his heel. He stormed off to the left, his heavy footsteps fading down the winding corridor as he disappeared into the deeper quarters of the hall.
Sudden-Silence fell over the doorway. Doctor Li slowly turned his tired, weathered gaze back to the boy standing before him. A faint, incredibly kind smile tugged at the corners of his pale lips.
"Please do not be anchored by his harsh words, Young Master," the old man whispered softly, extending a trembling hand to invite him forward. "The boy is simply foolish and overly protective of this old body. Please... come inside."
Doctor Li turned slowly and gestured for the boy to follow, his wooden sandals shuffling weakly against the polished stone floor as he led Wang Fang toward his private quarters.
Wang Fang walked half a step behind, his eyes fixed on the old man's hunched back. A wave of deep, logical curiosity took over his adult mind as he began evaluating the doctor's age based on the rules of this cultivation world. Is it really because he lost his cultivation that he aged so rapidly? Fang mused to himself. When Doctor Li still had his power, his face made him look at least sixty years old. But considering how long it takes to forge a Foundation Establishment core, if you add up his actual years of active life, he must be closer to one hundred and sixty.
As if sensing the intense weight of the gaze behind him, Doctor Li suddenly paused. He glanced over his frail shoulder, his bloodshot eyes meeting Fang's focused stare.
"Ah, Young Master," Doctor Li croaked softly, a gentle warmth flickering in his tired eyes. "Is there a problem? You look deep in thought."
Wang Fang flinched slightly, caught off guard. "Ah... no," he blurted out, a hint of childish embarrassment coloring his cheeks.
Doctor Li smiled kindly, the deep wrinkles around his eyes folding like aged parchment. "Young Master, you do not need to hide it from me. If you are curious about something, you can always ask."
Wang Fang fell silent for a long moment. He stared down at his own small, fragile hands before looking back up at the white-haired doctor. Resolving to speak plainly, he took a breath. "Actually... I do have a question."
"Please, ask away," Doctor Li replied, turning his frail body completely to face the boy, giving him his full, undivided attention.
"Is it because you lost your cultivation... that you became like this?" Fang asked, his voice dripping with raw sincerity.
The doctor's breath hitched slightly. A flash of deep sorrow crossed his face before settling into a peaceful, bittersweet expression. "What a sharp question," Doctor Li murmured, letting out a soft, dry chuckle. "Yes, Young Master. It is exactly because I lost my foundation. Without the spiritual energy anchoring my vitality, my mortal body is rapidly catching up to its true chronological age."
"I am so sorry, Doctor Li," Wang Fang whispered, bowing his head deeply as a sharp pang of genuine guilt pierced his chest.
"Huh?" Doctor Li blinked in surprise, then smiled beautifully, reaching out to gently pat the boy's small shoulder. "I do not blame you at all, Young Master. You have absolutely nothing to apologize for."
"Why?" Wang Fang asked, looking up with wide, confused eyes. "If it wasn't for me—"
"It was never your fault," Doctor Li interrupted firmly, his voice steadying. "In fact, if anyone is to blame, I should blame myself. If not for my own professional greed and my stubborn desire to prove my medical skills, I wouldn't have pushed my spiritual sense into a territory I shouldn't have touched. I brought this judgment upon myself."
Wang Fang absorbed the old man's words, his adult mind deeply moved by the doctor's profound humility. "Can I ask something else?"
"Yes, Young Master, always."
"Can't you ever get your cultivation back?" Fang asked, a flicker of desperate hope in his eyes.
Doctor Li looked at him, his heart warming at the boy's unexpected empathy. What a wise, compassionate child, the old man thought. Aloud, he sighed softly, shaking his head. "Unfortunately, it is completely impossible for me. My meridians are shattered. I am old and fragile now, just like any regular mortal. All I have left to my name is my medical knowledge."
Wang Fang's shoulders slumped slightly, a heavy realization settling over him. "So... you became a cripple, just like me."
Doctor Li suddenly stopped walking.
"Huh? Doctor, why are we stopping?" Fang asked, blinking as he looked around the quiet, shaded corridor.
"Ah... this is my private chamber, just here to the right," Doctor Li said, gesturing toward a beautifully carved wooden door. He slid it open smoothly. "Come, let us sit."
They stepped inside the tranquil room, which smelled heavily of dried lavender and bitter medicinal roots. Over the next several hours, an incredible shift happened within those four walls.
Sitting together on the woven tatami mats, the heavy burden of clan politics and tragedy seemed to melt away. The dynamic between them transformed into something beautiful—resembling a loving grandfather and his adoring grandchild.
Wang Fang used his mature wit and past-life humor to crack lighthearted jokes, completely shifting the gloomy atmosphere. He began teasingly mimicking the overly dramatic names of the spiritual herbs and medicines he had seen in the outer pavilions, making ridiculous, exaggerated hand gestures that had the old doctor laughing so hard his frail shoulders shook.
For Doctor Li, who had spent the last century isolated in the rigid, cold world of cultivation and duty, this unexpected warmth was a profound gift. Today is truly the best day of my life, the old man thought, his vision blurring slightly as a tear of pure happiness welled in his eye. In all my one hundred and sixty years, I have never felt this genuinely happy. He stared at the vibrant, expressive child before him, his heart swelling with a deep, protective affection.
Seven hours passed in the blink of an eye. The bright afternoon sun dipped below the horizon, casting long, amber shadows across the stone floor of the chamber.
"Young Master," Doctor Li called out, his tone suddenly shifting from playful warmth to a solemn, heavy gravity.
"Huh? Doctor Li, what's wrong?" Wang Fang asked, noticing the immediate change in the old man's demeanor.
"Sit down over here," Doctor Li instructed gently, pointing to a pair of smooth stone stools situated near the window. Wang Fang walked over and sat on one of the rock chairs, while Doctor Li slowly lowered his fragile frame onto the other.
Wang Fang's small body tensed. What happened? What changed his mood so quickly?
Doctor Li leaned forward, his hands resting on his knees. "Do you know what I actually saw inside you that day?"
In an instant, Wang Fang's playful expression completely vanished, replaced by a razor-sharp focus. "No," he replied quietly.
"I finally know what is causing your body's frailty... and why you are completely unable to cultivate regular Qi," Doctor Li said, his voice dropping to a low whisper.
Wang Fang's adult mind reeled. What? There is something inside me actively stopping me from cultivating?
As the minutes ticked by, Doctor Li meticulously explained the terrifying vision he had encountered—the boundless, continent-sized Sea of Consciousness, the suffocating golden-obsidian pressure, and the towering, cosmic tree made of golden-white obsidian that had shattered his foundation with a single passive ripple.
By the end of the explanation, Wang Fang's expression was completely terrified. His heart hammered violently against his ribs as entirely different thoughts raced through his mind. A cosmic tree? A boundless sea? How is that possible? How could something that massive and divine be sleeping inside a child's body? And that... that is the exact reason my mortal meridians are collapsing under the pressure?
"Calm down, Young Master," Doctor Li said softly, noticing the boy's pale face and trembling hands. "I know you might be thinking about a million things right now, and it is a heavy truth to bear."
Wang Fang gripped the edges of his stone chair, trying to ground himself.
Doctor Li stared deeply into the boy's eyes. "You asked me a question earlier, Young Master. You asked if it is possible for a crippled person to regain their cultivation base. I told you it was impossible for me... but for someone like you, I actually have two real answers."
Wang Fang's eyes instantly widened in profound surprise. A sudden, radiant spark of hope ignited in his chest. Even though he had just resolved to strengthen his body through pure physical training, he had never truly given up on the dream of utilizing Qi. To hear that there was a path back to true cultivation filled his soul with absolute joy.
"What are they?" he asked impatiently.
"My first answer is yes, it is entirely possible," Doctor Li revealed.
Before Fang could celebrate, Doctor Li's expression turned deeply grim. "But tragically, my second answer is no."
"What?! How can it be both, Doctor Li?" Fang asked, his voice cracking as his hope twisted into confusion.
Doctor Li smiled a tiny, melancholic smile, his breathing becoming completely calm and steady as he prepared to deliver the brutal reality.
"The 'yes' answer is only possible if the person undergoes a brutal, agonizing physical training regimen. Not just standard exercise, Young Master, but a life-threatening, absolute torture of the flesh. It must be a path where every single day feels as if your life depends on it. You must manually forge a mortal shell dense enough to hold the weight of what is sleeping inside you."
The old doctor paused, the silence in the room becoming suffocating.
"And the 'no' answer is simply this: the sheer, agonizing trauma of that training is so absolute... that the person will almost certainly die an agonizing death before they ever manage to reach even the basic Qi Gathering Realm.