Chapter 66

The other party’s generous posture made Han Li realize that as long as his demands weren’t excessive, they would almost certainly agree. Judging by this, his original target could be achieved effortlessly.

Yet such generous treatment was rare throughout the Seven Mysteries Sect, showing that the higher-ups well understood what a skilled physician meant to those in the martial world.

Han Li didn’t hesitate—he immediately demanded that the Divine Hand Valley be assigned solely to him, and that no outsiders disturb his medical research within the valley.

Such a trivial demand was naturally accepted with enthusiastic consent by the Sect Master. Perhaps to secure Han Li’s loyalty, the other party even volunteered to assign him a young, beautiful maid to attend to his daily needs.

Han Li was momentarily stirred by this unexpected offer, nearly agreeing—yet after calming down and remembering the many secrets he carried, he reluctantly refused, though it pained him.

Han Li’s actions earned the Sect Master’s deep admiration; he regarded him with new respect, repeatedly praising his youth and talent, his lack of indulgence in sensual pleasures, and even joking that if he had a daughter, he’d marry her to Han Li.

Han Li could only laugh bitterly at these words—he wasn’t averse to women, he simply couldn’t afford to be involved now.

Thus, the entire Divine Hand Valley became Han Li’s private domain, with outsiders generally forbidden from entering without permission.

To enforce this, Han Li placed a large bell at the valley’s entrance: anyone wishing to meet him need only strike the bell, and he would immediately emerge to receive them. He boldly posted this peculiar rule beside the bell, even high-ranking members of the sect were not exempt.

Han Li established this strange rule solely to eliminate the last possible chance of the bottle’s secret being leaked. As long as no one intruded into the valley, he could ensure no one else would ever learn of the bottle’s astonishing power.

At first, this rule didn’t bother lower-level disciples, but it angered many high-ranking members, who believed Han Li was arrogant beyond measure, ignorant of his place—Master Mo had never been so haughty. How could a mere newly graduated apprentice dare act so presumptuously?

But after Han Li pulled back a severely wounded, near-dead Guardian from the brink of death and fully cured him, all complaints vanished without a trace, never mentioned again.

No one would risk offending a physician who might save their life multiple times over for something as trivial as a bell-ringing rule; this custom was now accepted as merely the eccentric habit of a divine physician.

As days passed, even the Sect Masters gradually accepted the rule; when they needed treatment, they sent servants to respectfully ring the bell and humbly escort Han Li to them.

Thus, Han Li gradually became a legend within the Seven Mysteries Sect—an oddity.

Call him a high-ranking member? He held no official position or authority. Call him a lowly disciple? Yet who had ever seen such a prestigious disciple—even the Sect Masters addressed him as Master Han. Few dared call him by his given name anymore.

Of course, this did not include our Li Feiyu, Senior Brother Li.

Li Feiyu still maintained his cold, aloof demeanor before others, but the moment he saw Han Li, he instantly switched to his lazy, carefree manner, addressing him by name without the slightest deference, unlike Wang Dapang and other disciples who had grown distant and respectful.

This, however, brought Han Li some comfort—after all, the loneliness of being isolated was hard to bear.

Thinking of Li Feiyu’s teasing grin, Han Li couldn’t help recalling another face—pale and grim, like a carved pumpkin.

Not long ago, he unexpectedly met another acquaintance from the same carriage ride into the mountains: Wu Yan, now a core disciple of the Seven Extremes Hall, who suffered from a persistent, stubborn illness that other mediocre physicians had failed to cure for years. Tormented beyond endurance, he had no choice but to beg the Sect Master’s favor and seek treatment from the Divine Physician Han.

Wu Yan’s memory was surprisingly sharp—he recognized Han Li at once as his former carriage companion when he saw the famed Master Han. The shock and strange expression on his face remained vivid in Han Li’s memory, for Wu Yan had treated him poorly, even cruelly, back then.

Seeing Wu Yan’s embarrassment, Han Li found it amusing, yet he didn’t refuse to treat him. To protect his reputation, however, he deliberately doubled the dosage of the medicine, curing Wu Yan completely within two days. But due to the excessive potency, Wu Yan endured extra suffering during recovery—a small punishment for his past cruelty.

It seemed Han Li wasn’t as magnanimous as he believed—he was, in fact, quite vengeful.

Thus, Han Li gradually replaced Master Mo’s position on the mountain, even surpassing it.

Now, he took out the small bottle daily, placing it in an open area within the valley, allowing it to brew a miraculous green liquid every seven or eight days to cultivate rare herbs of great age, which he then carefully crafted into various medicines.

Only a small portion of these medicines were used for patients who came seeking treatment; the majority Han Li consumed himself, to nourish his primordial energy and advance his Evergreen Dao cultivation.

Han Li shifted slightly in the grand armchair, adjusting himself for greater comfort.

Though he sat in Master Mo’s armchair, this was not Master Mo’s room—it was Han Li’s own residence. He had unceremoniously taken every item from Master Mo’s quarters that he deemed useful and moved them into his own. With his current status, even if someone witnessed his disrespect toward Master Mo, they wouldn’t dare challenge him—after all, in everyone’s eyes, Han Li’s importance now surpassed Master Mo’s. People were always pragmatic.

In truth, Master Mo’s residence was far larger than Han Li’s; moving there would have been more practical.

Yet Han Li always felt uneasy living there. After all, Master Mo’s death was closely tied to him; to openly reside in the chamber of someone he had killed still sent a chill through him—it felt unnatural. His own humble quarters felt safer, more comfortable.

But thinking of Master Mo inevitably reminded Han Li of the frustrating matter still binding him—the dead man’s curse.

During this time, he had meticulously examined his body inside and out, and indeed found a faint, inexplicable coldness lurking within his dantian. He tried consuming “Qingling Powder” and various detoxifying methods, but none worked. It seemed his journey in a year’s time was unavoidable.

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