Chapter 30: The Fall of a Tyrant

“How old do you think I am?” His cheek muscles twitched several times as he asked a question utterly unrelated to the conversation, his voice stiff.

“From your appearance, you’re roughly sixty, but since you’re asking this, your age must not match your looks—perhaps you’re much older, or much younger?” Han Li felt a flicker of surprise, yet his tone remained unchanged, speaking calmly.

“Tsk tsk! No wonder you’re someone who cultivates the ‘Changchun Art’—a little brat from the countryside turned into such a sharp, clever man!” The Doctor Mo kept murmuring in admiration, his gaze now fixed on him with intense interest.

“You’re right—I’m only thirty-seven this year.” A number Han Li could not believe came from Doctor Mo’s mouth.

“Impossible?” Han Li, who had maintained his composure until now, was startled for the first time.

“Impossible! It truly is impossible! Anyone who sees me wouldn’t just think I’m sixty—they’d believe I’m seventy without a doubt!” Doctor Mo’s voice suddenly rose to a shrill, piercing pitch, grating harshly on Han Li’s ears, as if striking the deepest wound in his heart.

“I, Mo Juren, was once renowned in the martial world of Yue State’s Lanzhou, building a formidable reputation, carving out my own domain with bare hands—hah! Back then, who in Lanzhou didn’t know the Weiming of ‘Ghost Hand’? Whether in the light or dark, those who followed me lived; those who opposed me died.” Doctor Mo returned to his normal tone, recounting his story slowly in a low voice. As he spoke, his eyes gleamed with a blade-like sharpness, as if he had been transported back to the days when he was young, powerful, and in full command.

Hearing Doctor Mo’s words, Han Li was secretly astonished—he had never imagined his nominal master had such a formidable past.

“Unfortunately, good fortune didn’t last. Just as I entered middle age and was about to expand my ambitions, I was betrayed by a villain—a trusted subordinate poisoned me. Though I used my superior medical knowledge to suppress the injury’s progression, I could not cure it. My martial skills plummeted, and I could no longer remain in the north. Fearing further assassination attempts, I abandoned my former base and family, vanished without a trace, and wandered elsewhere in Yue State seeking remedies, hoping to restore my former strength.” As he recounted his later misfortunes, he became fully immersed in the memories, his fists clenched tightly, fingers deeply embedded into his palms, blood streaming down. Yet he seemed utterly unaware, his face twisted into a cruel, gnashing expression—so vicious it sent a chill down the spine. Clearly, he hated the traitor who had poisoned him with unrelenting fury.

Hearing the endless hatred in his voice, Han Li couldn’t help but feel his skin crawl, a cold dread settling in his heart.

“Heaven had mercy—at last, in some mysterious place, I stumbled upon a strange book. It was obscure and profound; I spent immense effort just to grasp a fraction of it, and within it, I found a shortcut to restore my strength. I followed its methods—and…” Doctor Mo paused, not continuing immediately, but his anger and regret were unmistakable.

“And you ended up looking like this.” Han Li coldly finished the sentence Doctor Mo had left unsaid.

“Yes. I never imagined that following the book’s methods would restore my strength—but also cause me to age rapidly, becoming this prematurely decayed, half-man, half-ghost shell.” Doctor Mo nodded gloomily, unmoved by Han Li’s sarcasm.

“You must have figured out the reason by now.”

“I made a mistake in the method—evil qi invaded my body. Now, one day of my life consumes the vitality of ten ordinary days. I am constantly draining my life force. Fortunately, I mastered the art of nourishment and, following the book’s instructions, brewed a secret medicine that has slowed my aging these past years, allowing me to survive until now.”

“How does the incantation I practice relate to solving your problem?” Han Li cut straight to the heart of the matter, bluntly.

“Not long after I became like this, I discovered the solution in the book—the ‘Changchun Art’ you cultivate. If someone who has reached the fourth level helps me by channeling qi and massaging my secret acupoints, using Changchun energy to stimulate them, I can escape this predicament and reclaim my lost essence.”

“Why me? Why not just find anyone who cultivates this incantation?” Han Li paused, then asked the question he had long held inside.

“Do you think the ‘Changchun Art’ is something any dog or cat can learn? This incantation requires the practitioner to begin training from childhood and must possess a ‘spirit root’ constitution. Though I don’t know what a ‘spirit root’ is, before you, I tested hundreds of boys—all failed to cultivate the Changchun Art.” Doctor Mo’s face darkened with frustration.

“Is that so?” Han Li was momentarily stunned—he hadn’t expected the incantation to be so restrictive.

“I thought I’d never find another cultivator of this incantation, so I gave up, pretending to be a wandering quack, drifting from place to place. Then, by chance, I encountered Wang, the master of Qixuan Sect, who had also been betrayed. Moved by our shared suffering, I saved his life. At his invitation, I became the sect’s patron, planning to hide my identity and spend my final days on the mountain. Hah! But a miracle happened. At first, I feared my medical skills and martial arts would die with me, so I brought you two into the valley—I truly intended to take you as disciples. But for some reason, I somehow sent you both to test the Changchun Art, perhaps still clinging to a sliver of hope. Even if you couldn’t cultivate it, I still planned to pass on some of my knowledge. Yet I never imagined—you actually responded to it! Ha! Heaven has not abandoned me!”

Doctor Mo poured out all these secrets in one breath, his face flushed with a sickly red glow—he was clearly delighted by his own fortune.

“I haven’t yet reached the fourth level of the Changchun Art. Why confront me now and reveal all this?” Han Li finally asked the question most pressing to him.

“It’s your own fault. I’ve invested so much time and effort into you, yet you still fail to satisfy me, always playing tricks. Now we’re at the final step, yet you refuse to advance further. I could have waited two more years—but when I went down the mountain, an enemy recognized me. After a fierce battle, though I killed him, I exhausted what little energy I had left. My lifespan has been drastically shortened. Even with all my strength, I can only survive one more year. How can I wait any longer?” Doctor Mo’s triumphant expression vanished, replaced by a murderous glare as he roared at Han Li.

After hearing this, Han Li’s expression remained unchanged, showing no sign of disturbance.

Yet inside, his heart churned like a stormy sea—far from the calm, composed exterior he displayed.

Though he had long suspected Doctor Mo had deep motives toward him, he never imagined the full extent—the man’s past, his experiences, the incantation he cultivated—all exceeded anything Han Li had imagined.

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