Chapter 71: Bai Ziming and Fang Heng

Zhen Mo Si, the medical ward.

Some thirty-odd pavilions stood in a row, and every passing Captain bore wounds.

A plain bamboo hut squeezed in among them, conspicuous by contrast.

The occasional figure stepping inside wore a black cloak — the mark of a Deputy Captain.

The burly youth was an exception, not even wearing a uniform, only a plain short jacket.

He let his right arm hang and pushed the small door open with his left hand.

Toward the person inside, dressed in white as pure as snow, sitting upright behind a low table, he called respectfully, "Bai Xi."

"Must you come looking for me every day with that long face?"

The youth called Bai Xi had a face fair as jade, two locks of hair at his temples hanging down, and a pair of clean hands swiftly sorting through a dish of fragrant medicinal herbs.

He did not look up and said flatly, "Put your arm up here."

Fang Heng obediently sat cross-legged and laid his right arm on the low table.

Bai Xi took out a few cowhair-fine needles, stabbed them in without looking, then went back to sorting the precious herbs: "Bear with it. One more day and it'll be about right."

Fang Heng kept his head lowered, his eyes listless.

His broad, thick back resembled a bear.

The searing pain of mending his meridians could make a battle-hardened Captain grind his teeth to dust, yet it could not make this man flinch.

"No need to worry."

Bai Xi pushed the herbs back into the cabinet and finally looked up: "The other side didn't strike hard. There won't be any lasting effects."

"Thank you, Zhu Shixiong."

Fang Heng came back to himself; his mind clearly wasn't on his arm, but he offered no further explanation.

At that moment, two men entered the bamboo hut carrying clay jars, speaking in hushed voices, and nodded respectfully to the white-robed Zhu Shixiong.

Bai Ziming, the Commander's third disciple, held the rank of Deputy Captain in Zhen Mo Si, and had been at the peak of the Jade Liquid Realm for over thirty years.

Besides that, he was the best physician in Zhen Mo Si.

"Go on."

Bai Ziming gave a gentle nod of his chin, gesturing for the two to enter the inner room.

In an instant, he suddenly noticed the disciple before him twitch at the corner of his eye; then the sturdy frame rose abruptly, spun, and seized one of the men's wrists, his voice carrying a chill: "How did you two end up here?"

Pinned by those sharp, battle-hardened eyes, it felt as though some fierce beast had fixed its gaze on them.

Liu Xiujie and Li Xiaoer felt their hearts flood with blood; the clay jars in their hands clattered noisily, and their voices came out as though they couldn't catch their breath: "F-Fang… my lord…"

Before the two could finish, Fang Heng, ignoring the fine needles still stuck in his right arm, pulled away and strode toward the inner room.

Bai Xi's clinic had always only treated Deputy Captains, or severe wounds that couldn't be handled elsewhere in the medical ward; among this group, the only one entitled to such treatment was Li Xinhan, who was a Deputy Captain-in-waiting.

Sure enough.

The moment he lifted the curtain, Fang Heng saw Li Xinhan on the bed, wrapped up like a rice dumpling.

His pupils contracted, his jaw clenched, and with several long strides he reached out and yanked the man upright, barking: "Where's the person?"

The little color Li Xinhan had just regained drained from his face once more. Confusion flashed through his eyes, but he only squeezed out a few cold words: "Are you sick?"

"I'm asking you…"

Fang Heng's voice dropped low, heavy as a thousand pounds; his hand suddenly tightened, his face dark: "WHERE IS HE?!"

Suddenly, a silver needle flew in and struck unerringly into his great aperture.

Under the sudden wave of aching weakness, Fang Heng was forced to release Li Xinhan. He staggered back, stumbled against the wall, then looked helplessly at the youth outside.

Bai Xi closed the needle case, first waved for the furious Liu Xiujie and the other man to leave, then cast him a casual glance: "Come here and tell me slowly. Who are you looking for?"

Fang Heng walked over and sat down, muttering: "Shen Yi. I'm afraid something's happened to him."

"Who's Shen Yi?" Bai Ziming looked away.

The burly man sighed and began from Jiang Shijie Lin onward, all the way to Shen Yi's departure from the Commander's residence — every detail, slowly told.

"So your arm was broken by him?" Bai Ziming laughed, finding it rather interesting.

"I was careless." Fang Heng closed his eyes, unwilling to bring up the subject again.

"It's not like you thought much of him to begin with. If he left, he left—why go looking for him?" Bai Ziming didn't really care. Outside Qingzhou lay vast lands with countless geniuses and all manner of strange encounters emerging one after another; even someone born with divine eyes who mastered pulse-reading in a single day wouldn't be considered odd.

"A disciple recommended by Jiang Shijie — whether to keep him is the Master's call. It's one thing for me to think little of him, but I absolutely cannot overstep." Fang Heng struggled to keep his right arm still.

"You couldn't keep him that day, and the Master won't keep him either." Bai Ziming smiled faintly, his gaze drifting thoughtfully toward the inner room.

Zhen Mo Si is not Zhan Yao Si — yao is mo.

But a martial man can also be called mo; it's just a label, stuck wherever it's needed.

Zhen Mo Si paved its way with the butcher's blade, then lured with heavy rewards, drawing the sons and daughters of Outside Qingzhou into its ranks.

It offered the finest martial arts and precious pills, driving them to slay yao and vanquish mo, consuming both until a delicate balance was struck.

As for those sects and clans unwilling to send their disciples — Pine Crane Gate was the best example.

When martial men of the jianghu run rampant, the things they do are no better than what yao and mo do.

None of the Commander's five disciples came from a noble clan or sect; the best background among them was, at most, a silk merchant. The Zhen Mo Generals of the twelve commanderies were the same.

With no one behind them to lean on, they could only rely on the imperial court, daring to stake their lives slaying yao and quelling mo — this was the most important standard in the Master's choice of disciples.

Talent came second; after all, as long as one was willing to throw resources in, unless one was a genius unseen for centuries, or simply a numbskull who couldn't get it no matter what — the sort who'd need decades to learn even ordinary martial arts — everyone else was about the same.

"Regardless, this decision can't be mine to make. Besides, Jiang Shijie Lin wanting to keep him isn't entirely about the recommendation… something's gone wrong in Bai Yun County; he can't be wandering about."

Fang Heng stood, pulled the fine needles from his arm, and cupped his fist: "I'm a rough man. I hope Zhu Shixiong will teach me."

Bai Ziming looked up: "Speak plainly, act properly."

Fang Heng blinked: "Could you be a bit more specific?"

"…"

Bai Ziming sighed helplessly: "Go to their door with gifts, bow your head and apologize... be careful yourself, and don't come back to wreck my precious medicines again. You're not a Deputy General, the medicine money is quite expensive, and it all gets docked from me."

"I'll remember that. Thank you, Zhu Shixiong, for the lesson."

Fang Heng seemed to grasp something, turned and walked toward the outside of the bamboo hut, looked at the two people squatting outside in a daze, hesitated for a moment: "May I ask..."

"May I ask?" Liu Xiujie stood up hesitantly.

"Where is Shen Yi?" Fang Heng frowned, not quite used to it.

"He's at—" Liu Xiujie instinctively pointed, then was suddenly yanked by the arm by Li Xiaoer.

Damn, he's being awfully polite, almost forgot this is a martial maniac. Back when they fought, he nearly beat Boss Li to death.

Fang Heng glanced at the two of them indifferently, then walked outside.

One hour later.

A sturdy figure slowly stepped into the side courtyard, and stopped before the only tightly shut room door.

He thought for a moment, then reached out to knock.

Knock, knock, knock.

The one who opened the door was a big-bellied, burly man a full head taller than him.

Zhang the Butcher sleepily rubbed his eyes, looking at the young man before him with oranges in his left hand and dried meat in his right.

Somewhat startled: "May I ask who you are? This is... visiting relatives?"

The young man's face was expressionless: "Fang Heng."

(End of chapter)