Chapter 17 — What Sleeps Beneath the Clinic

Lu Chen did not draw Returning Spring.

That frightened Jian Wei more than if he had.

When Lu Chen became angry, truly angry, he often grew quieter.

Five years ago, Jian had seen him face three martial cultivators after one of them poisoned a village well.

Lu Chen had shouted at the first.

Insulted the second.

The third threatened a child.

Lu Chen had stopped talking.

The third man never walked properly again.

Now Lu Chen stood inside Qin Zhenguo’s old house, one hand resting on Returning Spring’s hilt.

Outside, six vehicles filled the courtyard.

And somewhere forty kilometers away—

Xiaoxiao was inside the clinic.

The stranger outside repeated:

“You have fifteen minutes.”

Lu Chen took out his phone.

Jian immediately understood.

“They may be monitoring calls.”

“I know.”

Lu Chen called anyway.

One ring.

Two.

Madam Zhou answered.

“Lu Chen?”

He listened carefully.

Her voice sounded normal.

Television in the background.

A cartoon.

A spoon against ceramic.

No screaming.

No strange silence.

No forced breathing.

“Where is Xiaoxiao?”

Madam Zhou sounded confused.

“Eating fruit.”

“Put her on.”

“What happened?”

“Put her on.”

A pause.

Then small footsteps.

“Daddy?”

His shoulders loosened by perhaps one millimeter.

“Where are you?”

“At home.”

“Which room?”

“Upstairs.”

“What are you doing?”

“Eating mango.”

“Who is with you?”

“Grandma Zhou.”

“Anyone else?”

“No.”

“Did anyone come to the clinic?”

Xiaoxiao thought.

“No.”

“Did you hear anything downstairs?”

“No.”

Then suspiciously:

“Why?”

Lu Chen looked toward the dark courtyard.

“Nothing.”

“Trouble face?”

“You can’t see my face.”

“I know.”

He almost smiled.

“Stay upstairs.”

“Okay.”

“Do not go into the clinic.”

“Why?”

“Because I said so.”

“That is—”

“Tonight it is a reason.”

Silence.

Then:

“Okay.”

Good girl.

“Give the phone back to Grandma.”

Madam Zhou returned.

Her voice had changed.

“What is happening?”

“Lock the upstairs door.”

“Lu Chen—”

“Do it.”

No argument this time.

Good.

“Keep Xiaoxiao away from the first floor.”

“Should I call police?”

“Not yet.”

“Why?”

Because what might be beneath the clinic had been hidden for five years by a Valley Master capable of planning decades ahead.

Police would not improve that situation.

“Just lock the door.”

Madam Zhou became quiet.

Then:

“Are you coming?”

“Yes.”

“How long?”

Lu Chen looked at the digital clock on Ruoxi’s phone.

The drive back to Jiangzhou took thirty-five minutes under normal conditions.

The stranger had given him fifteen.

“I’m coming.”

He ended the call.

Jian watched him.

“They’re safe?”

“For now.”

Ruoxi exhaled.

Qin Zhenguo asked:

“Then the threat may be a bluff.”

“No.”

Lu Chen looked toward the courtyard.

“They know something.”

“How?”

“Because they said beneath the clinic.”

That was too specific.

He had lived there five years.

Renovated part of the ground floor himself.

Repaired plumbing.

Replaced floorboards.

Found nothing.

But—

Lu Chen suddenly remembered something.

The back treatment room.

Its floor was always colder.

He had blamed old construction.

And there was the drainage pipe behind the herb cabinet.

It descended vertically despite no basement appearing on building records.

He had never cared enough to investigate.

A small clinic was full of inconvenient architecture.

He had wanted a quiet life.

That desire had made him incurious.

Jian saw his expression.

“You remembered something.”

“Maybe.”

“What?”

“My clinic may have a lower level.”

Ruoxi stared.

“You lived there five years and didn’t know?”

“I was raising a baby and pretending cultivation did not exist.”

“Fair.”

Jian frowned.

“Did Master choose that building for you?”

Lu Chen looked at him.

“No.”

“Certain?”

“I found it myself.”

“How?”

“Rental listing.”

“Who owned it?”

Lu Chen opened his mouth.

Stopped.

The building had been cheap.

Suspiciously cheap.

The landlord had lived overseas.

All negotiations were handled by an elderly property agent.

After two years, the owner offered to sell.

At a price Lu Chen could barely afford.

He had negotiated anyway.

The final price had dropped by almost forty percent.

At the time Lu Chen assumed the owner needed money.

Now?

“Damn old man.”

Jian’s eyes narrowed.

“Master?”

“Possibly.”

Ruoxi looked offended on his behalf.

“Your master secretly arranged your house?”

“I don’t know.”

“If he did, that is an impressive level of interference.”

“You have not met him.”

Jian said quietly:

“He did things like that.”

Lu Chen looked at his senior brother.

“You knew?”

“No.”

A beat.

“But after he once arranged for you to ‘accidentally’ meet a bone-setting master because he thought your wrist technique was poor, I stopped underestimating his ability to manipulate coincidence.”

Lu Chen remembered that.

He had thought the old bone-setting physician was a random traveler.

Another childhood lie uncovered.

Wonderful.

Outside, the stranger called again.

“Ten minutes, Ghost Physician.”

Lu Chen stepped toward the front door.

Jian grabbed his shoulder.

“What are you doing?”

“Talking.”

“You’re terrible at talking.”

“I am excellent at talking.”

“You usually end conversations with needles.”

“Efficient punctuation.”

He opened the door.

Six vehicles.

Seventeen people.

Lu Chen counted automatically.

Most wore black.

Not robes.

Modern tactical clothing.

No obvious Upper Court insignia.

Three were cultivators.

Four possibly martial artists.

The rest ordinary hired personnel.

The man who had been speaking stood near the gate.

Forties.

Close-cropped hair.

No visible weapon.

Lu Chen activated Life Meridian perception.

Body Tempering.

Seventh layer, maybe eighth.

Not enough to command the real force here.

A messenger.

Good.

Lu Chen remained inside the doorway.

“You said there’s a man beneath my clinic.”

“Yes.”

“Name.”

The messenger smiled.

“You don’t know?”

“No.”

“That is unfortunate.”

“Name.”

“Not part of the agreement.”

“There is no agreement.”

The smile faded slightly.

Lu Chen continued:

“You came here for the Third Bell patient.”

“Yes.”

“You cannot access him.”

“We know.”

“You need me.”

“Yes.”

“So you threaten another patient.”

“Correct.”

Jian stepped into the hallway behind Lu Chen.

The messenger saw him.

His expression changed.

“Jian Wei.”

Jian smiled without warmth.

“Do I know you?”

“No.”

“Then you have an advantage.”

The messenger ignored him.

Lu Chen asked:

“How does the man beneath my clinic die?”

“Seal failure.”

“What seal?”

“Life Burial.”

Lu Chen’s expression changed.

He knew the term.

Barely.

An ancient preservation technique.

Not Valley standard.

Mentioned only in a restricted text as theoretical.

Used when ordinary stasis could not maintain someone.

It slowed life by burying the Life Meridian beneath layers of dead spiritual energy.

Dangerous.

Crude.

Almost forbidden.

“He’s under a Life Burial Seal?”

“Yes.”

“How long?”

“Five years.”

“Who placed it?”

The messenger smiled.

“You already know.”

Master.

Probably.

“What activated the failure?”

“The Third Bell.”

So the systems were connected.

The moment they rang the Bell at the northern archive—

something beneath his clinic began waking or deteriorating.

Two nodes in the same network.

Lu Chen’s mind raced.

“How much time?”

“Now you’re asking the useful question.”

“How much?”

“Twenty-six minutes.”

“You said fifteen.”

“We need nine minutes to transfer the other patient.”

“So your deadline was for yourselves.”

The messenger’s smile vanished.

Good.

“Doctor Lu.”

“Yes?”

“Do not mistake leverage for weakness.”

“Do not mistake urgency for stupidity.”

Silence.

Behind Lu Chen, Ruoxi almost smiled.

The messenger’s eyes hardened.

“We take the Third Bell patient.”

“No.”

“Then the man beneath your clinic dies.”

“No.”

The messenger frowned.

Lu Chen continued calmly:

“You are lying about one part.”

“Which?”

“You cannot save the man beneath my clinic.”

Silence.

Tiny.

Enough.

Lu Chen saw it.

The messenger’s left shoulder tightened.

Pulse accelerated.

“You know he exists,” Lu Chen said. “You know the seal is failing. But you cannot stabilize him.”

No answer.

“That is why you are telling me.”

The man’s face became unreadable.

Jian understood.

“They need you to go back.”

Ruoxi’s eyes sharpened.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

“Then this isn’t a hostage exchange.”

“No,” Lu Chen said.

“It’s triage.”

Two patients.

Two locations.

One physician.

Someone was forcing him to choose.

The Third Bell patient here.

Hidden patient beneath clinic.

Save one.

Risk the other.

A physician’s nightmare designed deliberately.

His master’s lessons had become someone else’s weapon.

Lu Chen hated them immediately.

“Whoever planned this,” he said, “knows too much about me.”

The messenger smiled.

“Yes.”

“Upper Court?”

No answer.

“Black Crescent?”

Nothing.

“First infiltrator?”

For the first time—

a reaction.

Very small.

But present.

Jian saw it too.

The messenger recovered.

“You have twenty-four minutes.”

Then he stepped backward.

Lu Chen frowned.

“You’re leaving?”

“We never intended to fight here.”

Six vehicles.

Seventeen people.

A threat.

Yet no attack.

Why?

Because they wanted movement.

They wanted Lu Chen away from the archive.

Or—

they wanted the archive open and unguarded.

His eyes sharpened.

“Deng Hu.”

The security chief immediately appeared behind Ruoxi.

“Doctor?”

“Seal the archive.”

The messenger’s face changed.

There.

Caught.

Lu Chen continued:

“No one enters after we leave. Not Qin personnel. Not hospital staff. Not anyone claiming to be Jian Wei, me, or Qin Zhenguo.”

Qin Zhenguo frowned.

“What if it is me?”

“Then wait outside.”

“I dislike this rule.”

“That is irrelevant.”

Jian looked toward the vehicles.

“You think they want us to evacuate.”

“They thanked us for opening it.”

Ruoxi understood.

“And now they’re pushing us toward the clinic.”

“Yes.”

The messenger smiled again.

“You’re wasting time.”

Lu Chen looked directly at him.

“So are you.”

Then he closed the door.

“What are we doing?” Ruoxi asked.

Lu Chen turned.

“Both.”

Jian frowned.

“Both?”

“You stay.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“Little Chen—”

“The Third Bell patient is stable.”

“For now.”

“You know the preservation formation better than anyone here except me.”

“I have never treated him.”

“You watched.”

“That is your plan?”

“Yes.”

Jian stared.

Lu Chen walked toward the cellar.

“Maintain the nine needles. Do not remove anything. Use Ninefold Preservation Powder only if one of the artificial pathways drops below half brightness.”

“How do I know half?”

“You have eyes.”

“That is not medical training.”

“Tonight it is.”

Jian grabbed his arm.

“Lu Chen.”

He stopped.

Jian’s expression had lost all humor.

“If something happens that I cannot control?”

“Do not cure him.”

“I know that.”

“If he wakes, keep him from speaking too much.”

“That sounds ridiculous.”

“It nearly killed him last time.”

Jian nodded reluctantly.

“What about the crown thread?”

“If black connection reappears, use the Mind-Calming triangle.”

“I remember.”

“Do not feed Life Essence directly.”

“I don’t have your Life Essence.”

“Then good.”

Jian’s eyes narrowed.

“You planned that insult.”

“No time.”

“You definitely did.”

Lu Chen looked toward Ruoxi.

“You stay too.”

“No.”

“Ruoxi.”

“My grandfather is here.”

“Exactly.”

“I can coordinate both sites from the car.”

“No.”

Qin Zhenguo said:

“She goes.”

Everyone looked at him.

Ruoxi blinked.

“Grandfather?”

Qin sighed.

“This property is mine.”

He looked toward Deng Hu.

“My security remains.”

Then toward Jian.

“The cultivator remains.”

Then toward Lu Chen.

“And someone must make sure this idiot does not drive himself into a wall.”

“I don’t drive.”

“Exactly.”

Ruoxi smiled.

Decision made.

Lu Chen disliked democracy.

Jian caught his shoulder before he left.

“One more thing.”

“What?”

“The hidden patient beneath your clinic…”

Jian hesitated.

“You know something.”

“I know one possibility.”

“Say it.”

“Master once asked me whether a Life Burial Seal could preserve someone whose dantian had been removed.”

Lu Chen froze.

“Removed?”

“Not shattered.”

“Yes.”

That was horrifying.

A shattered dantian was devastating.

A removed dantian—

physically extracting a cultivation core and its foundation from a living body—

was something else entirely.

“Who?”

“He never said.”

“When did he ask?”

“Two days before the Valley fell.”

Lu Chen’s expression hardened.

The timing was not coincidence.

“Anything else?”

Jian thought.

“He asked whether someone without a dantian could still carry a spiritual imprint.”

“Whose imprint?”

“No idea.”

Lu Chen looked toward the floor.

Another patient.

Another unknown.

And twenty-three minutes.

“Later.”

He turned to leave.

Jian called:

“Little Chen.”

Lu Chen looked back.

Jian’s expression softened.

“Bring your daughter out first.”

Lu Chen nodded once.

“Obviously.”

Then he was gone.

The Qin driver reached speeds that Lu Chen chose not to acknowledge.

Ruoxi sat beside him in the rear.

Deng Hu had sent one unmarked security vehicle ahead.

No sirens.

No public disturbance.

The clinic appeared on Lu Chen’s phone through street-camera feeds.

No suspicious movement.

Madam Zhou’s apartment light still on.

Upstairs clinic curtains closed.

Everything normal.

Too normal.

Ruoxi checked the time.

“Nineteen minutes.”

Lu Chen’s Life Seed pulsed steadily.

He used the drive to recover.

One functioning meridian circulated what little ambient qi he could draw.

Jiangzhou’s spiritual energy was thin.

But no longer completely inaccessible.

The Life Seed generated a second trickle.

Two sources.

Small.

Enough for careful treatment.

Not enough for heroics.

Good.

Heroics killed physicians.

He opened a voice message.

Xiaoxiao.

“Daddy, Grandma says I can have mango because you are late. Also she says don’t worry. I’m not downstairs. Also your rabbit apples are still ugly.”

Lu Chen closed the message.

Ruoxi looked at him.

“She’s okay.”

“Yes.”

“You smiled.”

“No.”

“You did.”

“Traffic reflection.”

“At night?”

He ignored her.

Then something struck him.

“Call Madam Zhou.”

Ruoxi dialed.

Speaker.

Madam Zhou answered.

“What now?”

Lu Chen asked:

“Did the clinic make any noise?”

“What kind?”

“Anything beneath the floor.”

Silence.

Then:

“There was a sound earlier.”

His body tightened.

“When?”

“Maybe fifteen minutes ago.”

“What sound?”

“A knock.”

Ruoxi looked at him.

“One?”

“No.”

Madam Zhou continued.

“Three.”

Lu Chen closed his eyes.

Of course.

“Where?”

“Downstairs.”

“Back room?”

“I think so.”

“Anything since?”

“No.”

“Do not go down.”

“I’m not stupid.”

Good.

“Take Xiaoxiao to your apartment.”

“She’s already here.”

Better.

“Lock everything.”

“Yes.”

Then Xiaoxiao shouted in the background:

“Daddy!”

“Yes?”

“There’s a mouse under your clinic!”

Lu Chen frowned.

“Why?”

“I heard scratching.”

Not a mouse.

Probably.

“Stay upstairs.”

“I am!”

The call ended.

Ruoxi checked the time.

“Fourteen minutes.”

Lu Chen looked out the window.

“Faster.”

The driver did not need to be told twice.

They arrived with eleven minutes remaining.

Lu Chen left the car before it fully stopped.

Madam Zhou opened her upstairs window.

“You!”

He looked up.

“Stay there.”

“I know!”

“Xiaoxiao?”

A small head appeared beside her.

“Daddy!”

“Inside.”

She disappeared.

Mostly.

One eye remained visible behind the curtain.

Acceptable.

Lu Chen unlocked the clinic.

The first floor smelled normal.

Herbs.

Wood.

Disinfectant.

A faint trace of Xiaoxiao’s crayons.

Then Returning Spring hummed.

He had brought it.

Good.

The sword reacted toward the back.

Treatment room.

Lu Chen entered.

Cold.

Much colder than usual.

Ruoxi followed.

“Where?”

“Here.”

He moved the herb cabinet.

Behind it—

the old vertical drainage pipe.

Except now he saw what he had missed for five years.

It was not drainage.

The upper section was ordinary metal.

The lower section disappeared into a circular stone sleeve.

A disguise.

He crouched.

Life Meridian perception.

Nothing.

Then he circulated his newly opened meridian.

Golden light touched his eyes.

There.

Formation lines beneath the floor.

A square.

Approximately two meters by two.

Hidden hatch.

“How did you never see this?” Ruoxi whispered.

“I could not use cultivation.”

“And visually?”

“It was covered by a cabinet.”

She considered.

“Very advanced concealment.”

“Yes.”

He found no handle.

Returning Spring hummed again.

He placed the scabbard against the floor.

Click.

A seam appeared.

Ruoxi stared.

“Your sword is becoming a key.”

“I preferred when it was a sword.”

The hidden panel opened.

Cold air rose.

Along with a smell.

Earth.

Medicine.

And something darker.

Death Essence.

Lu Chen’s core reacted instantly.

The Life Seed pulsed.

Not greedily.

Cautiously.

Purification ready.

He looked at Ruoxi.

“Stay here.”

“No.”

“Someone must watch the entrance.”

“That is an argument you could have used before.”

“Now I am.”

She stared.

Then looked toward the staircase.

Finally:

“Fine.”

Progress.

Lu Chen descended.

Twelve steps.

Only twelve.

The chamber beneath his clinic was small.

Much smaller than the Third Bell facility.

Bare stone walls.

One oil lamp.

Impossible that it still burned.

A narrow bed.

One wooden table.

One person.

Lu Chen stopped.

The man lying there looked dead.

Actually dead.

Gray skin.

Sunken face.

No visible breathing.

A black cloth covered him from chest to feet.

Around the bed—

not nine needles.

Thirty-six.

Black.

Bone needles.

Death-aligned.

Life Burial.

The floor was covered in rings of ash.

At the center of each ring—

one medicinal leaf.

Not golden.

White.

Lu Chen’s expression changed.

The room had been designed by his master.

But not according to ordinary Valley medicine.

This was forbidden preservation.

He approached.

The Life Seed reacted violently.

Black Death Essence pressed toward him from every direction.

Not attacking.

Maintaining.

A cocoon of death keeping one tiny piece of life hidden inside.

Brilliant.

Terrible.

Very much like Lu Tianhe.

Lu Chen checked the patient’s pulse.

Nothing.

Then Life Meridian perception.

At first—

dead.

Then deep inside the chest—

one golden thread.

Hair-thin.

Wrapped around something.

Not the heart.

A foreign object.

Lu Chen leaned closer.

The man had no dantian.

Jian was right.

Not shattered.

Gone.

An empty cavity remained in the spiritual structure.

Yet inside the chest—

a golden imprint continued pulsing.

The seal was failing.

Several bone needles had already lost their black sheen.

Seven minutes.

Maybe less.

Lu Chen searched for identification.

Nothing on the bed.

Nothing around the neck.

Then he looked toward the wooden table.

A letter.

Of course.

His name written outside.

CHEN’ER

Lu Chen stared.

“You could have left one normal explanation.”

No response.

He opened it.

His master’s handwriting.

Shorter than usual.

That worried him.

Chen’er,

If you found this room because someone told you it existed, assume they want what is inside the patient.

Lu Chen’s eyes narrowed.

Not the patient.

Inside the patient.

He continued.

Do not remove the imprint.

Good.

Do not allow anyone to extract it.

Good.

Then:

Do not ask who he is until he wakes. His name will mislead you.

Less good.

Lu Chen sighed.

More identity games.

Next:

His dantian was removed willingly.

That surprised him.

He chose this.

Then:

The Life Burial Seal hides his remaining imprint from spiritual detection.

Why?

The next line answered.

Because what he carries is not power.

Pause.

It is a memory.

Lu Chen became still.

A memory.

Whose?

The memory was placed in him on the night the Valley fell.

His heartbeat changed.

It must not be read until your Life Seed awakens.

So now.

The timing aligned.

If the seal fails after the Third Bell sounds, stabilize him with Life Essence only. Do not absorb the surrounding Death Essence directly.

Lu Chen almost felt insulted.

He knew.

Then:

When he wakes, ask him only one question.

Below it—

four characters.

“WHO OPENED THE WEST?”

Lu Chen’s expression hardened.

The western gate.

Bai Shuyue had admitted she opened the western barrier under orders.

But perhaps that was only one layer.

Maybe she physically opened it.

Someone else authorized it.

Someone else created the condition.

The true breach.

The letter ended:

And Chen’er—

If Xiaoxiao is upstairs, move her away before the seal breaks.

Lu Chen froze.

The room became silent.

He read the line again.

Xiaoxiao.

By name.

His master knew her name.

Not “your daughter.”

Not “the child.”

Xiaoxiao.

Five years ago?

Impossible.

She was four now.

Born after the Valley fell.

Unless this letter had been written later.

His master had been here after the destruction.

Alive.

Lu Chen’s fingers tightened so hard the paper nearly tore.

His master had come to Jiangzhou.

Had known about Xiaoxiao.

Had prepared this room beneath the clinic.

And never revealed himself.

Why?

Another time.

The seal trembled.

One bone needle cracked.

Lu Chen returned to the patient.

Questions later.

Life first.

Always.

“Ruoxi!”

She answered from above.

“What?”

“Get Xiaoxiao and Madam Zhou out of the building.”

Her footsteps moved instantly.

No argument.

Good.

“Distance?”

“Across the street is enough?”

Lu Chen examined the death field.

“No.”

“How far?”

“Two hundred meters.”

“Understood.”

He heard movement upstairs.

Madam Zhou complaining.

Xiaoxiao asking whether they were going for snacks.

Normal.

Good.

The second bone needle dimmed.

Lu Chen placed his fingers near the patient’s chest.

The single golden thread was weakening.

Life Burial worked by surrounding life with controlled death.

Normally Lu Chen would purify the Death Essence.

But if he purified too much—

the cage collapsed.

Same principle as Third Bell patient.

Treat the treatment.

Not the condition.

He drew one silver needle.

Placed it beside the failing bone needle.

Life Essence.

Tiny pulse.

The black needle brightened.

Good.

Second.

Third.

The Life Seed generated steadily.

Slow.

He reinforced only the failing points.

Not all thirty-six.

Efficient.

Six minutes.

The patient’s gray skin changed slightly.

Less corpse-like.

Danger.

Awakening.

Too early?

Maybe intended.

Master said when he wakes, ask one question.

So waking was expected after stabilization.

Fourth bone needle.

Fifth.

Lu Chen’s reopened meridian began aching.

He reduced output.

The Death Essence around him whispered.

Not literally.

But the temptation remained.

So much power.

Five years of preserved death energy.

Enough to reopen multiple meridians if consumed directly.

His Life Seed could purify it at one tenth efficiency.

Slow.

Wasteful.

Safe.

He ignored the black current.

The sixth needle failed.

Then three at once.

“Damn.”

He moved faster.

Golden threads.

Bridge one.

Bridge two.

Bridge three.

The patient’s chest moved.

First breath in perhaps years.

Long.

Ragged.

Lu Chen looked at the face.

Something familiar?

No.

Maybe.

He had seen too many Valley faces.

Too many dead.

The man looked perhaps fifty.

Hair mostly white.

Scars at the temples.

One missing finger on the left hand.

Then Lu Chen recognized the hand.

No.

Impossible.

He stepped closer.

The missing finger.

Old chemical burn along wrist.

He had seen that when he was a teenager.

A man who worked not as a guardian.

Not a disciple.

A records keeper.

Elder Fan.

Fan Qingshu.

Keeper of medicinal histories.

The quiet man who never fought.

The man who had taught Lu Chen archival notation.

The man supposedly crushed when the western library collapsed.

Another dead person.

Except this time—

the archive beneath his clinic might contain the actual survivor.

Or another stolen identity.

Verify life before name.

Lu Chen refused the conclusion.

Treat first.

Seventh needle.

Eighth.

The Life Burial pattern stabilized.

The black Death Essence stopped leaking.

The golden thread in the chest strengthened.

Then—

a pulse.

One heartbeat.

Another fifteen seconds later.

Then ten.

The patient inhaled.

His eyelids opened.

Ruoxi returned to the treatment room above.

She shouted down:

“They’re out.”

Good.

Lu Chen never looked away from the patient.

The man’s eyes were brown.

Old.

Confused.

Then fixed on Lu Chen.

Recognition appeared.

Not surprise.

Recognition.

“Chen…”

The voice was barely sound.

Lu Chen’s chest tightened.

“Don’t speak yet.”

The man ignored him.

Of course.

Everyone connected to the Valley ignored medical advice.

“…you survived.”

Lu Chen checked the Life Burial points.

Stable enough.

“Who are you?”

The man almost smiled.

“Good…”

Breath.

“…wrong question.”

Lu Chen closed his eyes.

His master’s friends were all irritating.

He took out the letter.

“One question.”

The man saw the handwriting.

His expression changed.

Then he nodded.

Lu Chen leaned closer.

“Who opened the west?”

Everything changed.

The man’s eyes filled with fear.

Not confusion.

Not old trauma.

Fear.

His right hand grabbed Lu Chen’s sleeve.

“Bai…”

Lu Chen’s heart tightened.

Bai Shuyue.

But the man shook his head violently.

“No.”

He struggled to breathe.

“Bai opened…”

Breath.

“…door.”

“Yes.”

Lu Chen waited.

“Who opened the west?”

The distinction mattered.

The physical western gate versus whatever made it vulnerable.

Elder Fan’s fingers tightened.

“Not…”

He swallowed.

“…one person.”

Of course.

The master’s letter had already warned there was no single traitor.

“Who?”

The golden imprint inside his chest pulsed.

A memory.

Not his?

The man’s eyes lost focus.

Then he spoke.

“First…”

Breath.

“…Shen Tuo removed the western roster.”

Lu Chen’s expression hardened.

Fourth Guardian.

Dead six months before the attack.

“Before or after his death?”

The man stared.

Good question.

“After.”

Then someone used Shen Tuo’s identity.

“Second…”

His pulse weakened.

Lu Chen fed a tiny Life Essence thread.

The man continued.

“Luo Shen ordered the defensive rotation changed.”

Lu Chen went cold.

Real Luo Shen was already dead three days before the attack.

Another stolen identity.

“Third…”

The man’s face tightened.

“Pei Mingshan’s seal opened the repository conduit.”

Pei had been dead for decades.

Three dead men.

Three stolen authorities.

The infiltration had used the dead to prepare the west.

“And Bai Shuyue?”

The man’s breathing became ragged.

“Last.”

He looked at Lu Chen.

“She opened…”

“…the visible gate.”

There it was.

Bai had carried the guilt for the final action.

But the western defenses had already been dismantled piece by piece using identities of dead Valley figures.

She had opened a door that had been prepared to fail.

Still guilty.

Still responsible.

But not architect.

“Who coordinated them?”

The man’s eyes filled with pain.

The golden imprint flared.

The memory inside him resisted.

Not seal.

Damage.

Lu Chen almost stopped.

Master said one question.

He had already stretched it.

Then Elder Fan spoke without being asked.

“Seventeen.”

Lu Chen froze.

“Box Seventeen?”

The man nodded weakly.

“They wanted…”

Breath.

“…what was under it.”

Not inside.

Under.

Interesting.

“What?”

The Life Burial needles trembled.

Lu Chen immediately stopped.

“Enough.”

Elder Fan shook his head.

“No.”

“Enough.”

“Listen.”

His voice gained urgency.

“The west…”

“Later.”

“Chen’er.”

Lu Chen stopped.

Only people close to his master called him that.

The older man looked at him.

“The Valley did not fall because they wanted the Nine Medicines inheritance.”

Lu Chen’s heartbeat changed.

“Then why?”

“The inheritance…”

Breath.

“…was bait.”

Silence.

The patient’s hand loosened.

His eyes closed.

“Elder Fan?”

No response.

Pulse.

Alive.

Stable.

Exhausted.

Lu Chen sat back.

The Nine Medicines inheritance—

bait?

For whom?

To draw which people?

Why would his master hide it in Lu Chen’s path if it had been bait before?

Unless—

different bait.

Different era.

Too many questions.

He refused to chase them all at once.

The patient was alive.

That was enough for tonight.

Then the Life Seed pulsed.

A golden acknowledgment formed.

LIFE ACKNOWLEDGED: 12

Twelve.

Eighty-eight before the First Gate.

Lu Chen looked at Elder Fan.

The count did not care about secrets.

Only survival.

Good.

A floorboard creaked above.

Lu Chen looked up sharply.

“Ruoxi?”

No answer.

He stood.

Returning Spring came free by two inches.

Another sound.

Front room.

Someone had entered.

But Xiaoxiao and Madam Zhou were gone.

Ruoxi should be upstairs.

He climbed the stairs quickly.

The treatment room was empty.

Back clinic door open.

Cold air.

Lu Chen’s expression changed.

“Ruoxi?”

A voice answered from the consultation room.

“Here.”

He entered.

She stood near the front door.

Not alone.

Bai Shuyue sat in one of the patient chairs.

White coat.

Black hair.

Red ring.

Blood running down one sleeve.

Lu Chen stopped.

“You disappeared.”

“Yes.”

“You are bleeding on my floor.”

“Yes.”

“You have excellent timing.”

“So I’ve been told.”

Ruoxi looked irritated.

“She came through the back entrance.”

Bai glanced at her.

“You had security at the front.”

“That is what entrances are for.”

“Then your security should cover more of them.”

Ruoxi’s eyes narrowed.

Lu Chen sighed.

“Later.”

He looked at Bai’s wound.

“Sit properly.”

“I am sitting.”

“As a patient.”

Her expression changed slightly.

Then she adjusted without argument.

Interesting.

“What happened?”

“Upper Court found me.”

“Expected.”

“They found one of my safe houses.”

“Also expected.”

She looked offended.

“Do you have anything useful to say?”

“Yes.”

Lu Chen opened his medical kit.

“You should have come sooner.”

He cut the sleeve.

Not deep.

Blade wound.

No poison this time.

Good.

He cleaned it.

Bai watched him.

“Did you find the chamber?”

His hands stopped.

“You knew.”

“I suspected.”

“How?”

“Your master once mentioned the clinic.”

“When?”

“Five years ago.”

Lu Chen looked up slowly.

Bai realized she had said too much.

“Five years ago?”

“Yes.”

“After the Valley fell?”

She said nothing.

“Bai Shuyue.”

Her jaw tightened.

“Yes.”

His eyes became cold.

“You saw my master after the massacre.”

Ruoxi became still.

Bai looked toward the dark stairwell.

Then back to Lu Chen.

“Once.”

The room went silent.

“When?”

“Four months after.”

Lu Chen stopped breathing.

Four months.

His master alive.

Four months after the Valley.

“Where?”

“Jiangzhou.”

His grip tightened around the bandage.

“You saw him in Jiangzhou.”

“Yes.”

“Did he know I was alive?”

Bai’s expression changed.

There.

Answer.

“Yes.”

Pain.

Clean.

Sharp.

Lu Chen looked away.

His master knew.

Alive.

Nearby.

And did not come.

“Why?”

“He said he couldn’t.”

“That is not an answer.”

“I know.”

“Why?”

Bai lowered her voice.

“Because you were being watched.”

“By Upper Court?”

“No.”

Lu Chen looked back.

Her eyes were serious.

“By Heaven.”

Silence.

Ruoxi frowned.

“That sounds metaphorical.”

Neither cultivator answered.

Bai continued.

“Your master said if he approached you openly, the people tracking him would discover two things.”

“What?”

“That the Ghost Physician survived.”

“They discovered eventually.”

“Yes.”

“And the second?”

Bai looked upward.

Toward where Xiaoxiao normally slept.

“He said…”

She paused.

“…they would discover the child.”

Lu Chen’s expression became empty.

“What child?”

Bai said nothing.

“Xiaoxiao?”

“I didn’t know her name then.”

His voice dropped.

“But you knew there was a child.”

“Yes.”

“When?”

“Four months after the Valley fell.”

Impossible.

Xiaoxiao had not yet been born.

Lu Chen stared at her.

“That doesn’t make sense.”

“I know.”

“Ye Wan’er wasn’t—”

He stopped.

He almost said too much.

Bai noticed.

Ruoxi did too.

But neither interrupted.

Lu Chen’s mind raced.

Jian had escaped with an infant girl on the night of the Valley fall.

Master later spoke about “the child.”

Qin Zhenguo’s thirty-year-old archive contained a conditional instruction tied to a Daughter of Unwritten Fate.

Now Bai claimed Master warned about a child four months after the massacre.

And Xiaoxiao was four, not five.

Too many dates did not align.

Good.

That meant he should not leap to the obvious conclusion.

“Was the child with Master?”

Bai shook her head.

“No.”

“With Jian?”

“I don’t know.”

“Did you see her?”

“No.”

“Then you know nothing.”

Bai accepted that.

“Yes.”

Good.

Lu Chen returned to bandaging her arm.

He needed facts.

Not prophecy.

Not insinuation.

Facts.

“What did Master do in Jiangzhou?”

Bai looked toward the floor.

“He built something.”

“Beneath this clinic?”

“Possibly.”

“Did you help?”

“No.”

“Who did?”

“One person.”

“Who?”

“I never saw his face.”

Of course.

“What did Master call him?”

Bai hesitated.

Then:

“Fan.”

Lu Chen looked toward the hidden stairwell.

So the patient below likely was Elder Fan.

Stronger evidence.

Still not absolute.

“What happened afterward?”

“Your master left Jiangzhou.”

“Where?”

“I followed for three days.”

“And?”

“Lost him.”

“Direction?”

“Northwest.”

Toward the Valley?

Maybe.

“Did he say anything else?”

“Yes.”

“What?”

Bai looked at Returning Spring.

“He said when your sword returned, you would begin asking the wrong questions.”

Lu Chen stared.

“He was very confident.”

“He knew you.”

“Unfortunately.”

“What were the right questions?”

Bai’s expression became strange.

“He said you would ask who betrayed the Valley.”

“Yes.”

“You would ask who destroyed it.”

“Yes.”

“You would ask why they wanted the Nine Medicines inheritance.”

Lu Chen thought of Elder Fan’s final words.

The inheritance was bait.

“And?”

Bai met his eyes.

“He said the question you should ask is…”

A pause.

“Why did the Valley need to be destroyed before Xiaoxiao could be born?”

Lu Chen stopped moving.

Ruoxi’s face changed.

The clinic became completely silent.

“No.”

Lu Chen’s voice was flat.

Bai said nothing.

“You said he did not know her name.”

“I didn’t.”

“But he did?”

“I don’t know.”

“You just used her name.”

“Because I know it now.”

Good distinction.

Lu Chen forced himself to remain precise.

“What exactly did Master say?”

Bai closed her eyes, remembering.

Then repeated:

“When Chen’er finally understands, tell him this: the Valley did not die because of what we possessed. It died because of what had to happen afterward.”

Lu Chen stared.

Bai continued.

“And if he has a daughter by then, tell him not to assume she caused it.”

That was different.

Much better.

The earlier wording had been Bai’s interpretation.

Lu Chen’s expression hardened.

“You paraphrased.”

“Yes.”

“Don’t.”

She nodded.

Fair.

“Exact words matter.”

“I know.”

Ruoxi looked relieved despite herself.

The Valley’s destruction was connected somehow to events after it.

Maybe Lu Chen’s shattered cultivation.

Maybe his meeting with Ye Wan’er.

Maybe Xiaoxiao.

Maybe something else entirely.

But no direct conclusion yet.

Good.

Lu Chen preferred uncertainty to false certainty.

Then Bai looked toward the hidden chamber.

“Is he alive?”

“Yes.”

“Did he wake?”

“Briefly.”

“What did he say?”

“That depends.”

“On?”

“You left Upper Court three years ago.”

“Yes.”

“You helped open the western gate five years ago.”

Her face tightened.

“Yes.”

“Did you know the defenses had been compromised beforehand?”

“No.”

“Did you know Shen Tuo’s identity had been used?”

“No.”

“Luo Shen?”

“No.”

“Pei Mingshan?”

Her expression changed.

There.

“Pei?”

“You know something.”

Bai lowered her voice.

“Upper Court used that name as a clearance identity.”

“For how long?”

“Before I joined.”

“Meaning?”

“At least fifteen years.”

Lu Chen’s jaw tightened.

Dead names embedded in the institution itself.

Not just individuals borrowing identities.

The organization had institutionalized them.

“Who controlled those clearance identities?”

Bai looked at him.

“Only the Inner Ledger.”

“What is that?”

“The Upper Court’s record of identities that are alive, dead, replaceable, forbidden, and reusable.”

Ruoxi looked disgusted.

“They catalog people like credentials.”

“Yes.”

“Who keeps it?”

Bai’s answer came slowly.

“The Registrar.”

A new title.

Lu Chen stored it.

“Name?”

“No one uses it.”

“Face?”

“Changes.”

Of course.

“Life Meridian?”

Bai shook her head.

“I never saw the Registrar directly.”

“Where is the Inner Ledger?”

“Upper Court.”

“Helpful.”

She looked annoyed.

“I left three years ago.”

“Apparently without stealing useful paperwork.”

“I was busy not dying.”

“Poor planning.”

Ruoxi sighed.

“You two are impossible.”

Then a knock sounded at the clinic door.

Everyone froze.

Three slow knocks.

Lu Chen looked at the clock.

10:41 p.m.

Clinic closed.

Xiaoxiao still away.

Security outside should have stopped visitors.

Ruoxi checked her phone.

No message.

Another three knocks.

Lu Chen drew Returning Spring halfway.

Bai stood despite her wound.

Ruoxi stepped behind the consultation desk.

The third set of knocks came.

Then a familiar voice.

“Little Chen.”

Jian.

Lu Chen relaxed slightly.

Not fully.

He opened the door only enough to see.

Jian Wei stood outside.

Alone.

No disguise.

His real face.

Lu Chen still activated Life Meridian perception.

Jian noticed.

A tired smile.

“Good.”

“Origin Pulse verification is not available here.”

“Then ask something only I know.”

Lu Chen thought.

“When I was sixteen, what did Master punish me for?”

Jian immediately answered:

“Using the third alchemy furnace to steam dumplings.”

Ruoxi covered a smile.

Bai looked confused.

Lu Chen opened the door.

“That memory may have been stolen.”

Jian entered.

“Then why ask?”

“I wanted confirmation you remember my excellent idea.”

“It was disgusting.”

“The dumplings were perfect.”

“Master smelled pork in the furnace for three weeks.”

“Not relevant.”

Jian looked around.

Saw Bai Shuyue.

His expression instantly turned cold.

“You.”

Bai did not move.

“Me.”

Jian’s hand moved toward his sword.

Lu Chen shut the door.

“No.”

“She opened the western gate.”

“Yes.”

“She helped kill our people.”

“She also helped us escape Golden Pavilion.”

“That cancels nothing.”

“I know.”

Bai spoke quietly:

“It cancels nothing.”

Jian stared at her.

The hatred remained.

Good.

No cheap forgiveness.

Lu Chen stepped between them.

“Later.”

Jian looked toward the hidden treatment-room entrance.

“You found him?”

“Yes.”

“Who?”

“Probably Elder Fan Qingshu.”

Jian’s face changed.

“Fan?”

“You thought he died.”

“I saw the library collapse.”

“So did everyone.”

Jian walked toward the back.

Lu Chen caught him.

“He’s stable.”

“I need to see.”

“You need to tell me how the Third Bell patient is.”

Jian stopped.

“Stable.”

“Needles?”

“All nine bright.”

“Crown?”

“No black thread.”

“Conscious?”

“No.”

“Any attack?”

“No.”

“What happened to the vehicles?”

“Left five minutes after you did.”

As expected.

Diversion.

“They never tried to enter?”

“No.”

“Then they were watching.”

“Yes.”

“Anything missing?”

Jian’s expression changed.

There.

“What?”

“Box Nine.”

Lu Chen’s eyes narrowed.

“The one with the prayer bead.”

“It’s empty.”

“It was already mostly empty.”

“The paper is gone.”

Silence.

Someone had removed the message.

From inside a sealed archive.

While Jian remained below?

Impossible.

Unless—

someone already had access.

Or the archive itself had moved it.

Jian continued:

“And something appeared in its place.”

“What?”

He took out a folded sheet.

Placed it on the consultation table.

Old paper.

Fresh ink.

Four lines.

Lu Chen read.

Twelve lives.

His expression hardened.

They knew the count.

Next:

The physician beneath the clinic remembers the West.

So they knew who Fan was.

Third:

The physician beneath the Bell remembers the Gate.

Two witnesses.

Two pieces of memory.

And last:

Only one will survive the next bell.

Silence.

Bai Shuyue’s face went pale.

Jian looked at Lu Chen.

Ruoxi whispered:

“What next bell?”

Nobody answered.

Then—

from somewhere beneath the clinic—

a bronze tone sounded.

One note.

Deep.

Low.

Impossible.

Lu Chen turned toward the hidden stair.

Jian’s expression changed.

“That isn’t the Third Bell.”

“No.”

Bai stood.

“What is it?”

Lu Chen did not know.

But Elder Fan apparently did.

Because from below—

a scream tore through the clinic.

Lu Chen ran.

He reached the underground room in seconds.

Fan Qingshu was awake.

Fully awake.

All thirty-six Life Burial needles vibrated.

The golden memory imprint inside his chest blazed.

His eyes were fixed on the wall.

Not Lu Chen.

The stone wall.

As though seeing through it.

“Elder Fan!”

Fan gasped.

“The bell…”

“What bell?”

“Not Third…”

His body convulsed.

Lu Chen stabilized the nearest needle.

“Then which?”

Fan looked at him.

Terror.

“The Mourning Bell.”

Lu Chen froze.

The Valley had once had a Mourning Bell.

Used only when an elder died.

But this sound was beneath his clinic.

“How?”

Fan grabbed his wrist.

“They found…”

Breath.

“…the dead network.”

“What does that mean?”

“The identities…”

His eyes widened.

“Dead names…”

Lu Chen leaned closer.

Fan forced the words.

“They were never just disguises.”

Silence.

“What were they?”

Fan looked directly into his eyes.

“Doors.”

Lu Chen’s blood turned cold.

“Doors to what?”

The older man’s voice fell to a whisper.

“People.”

Then the Life Burial formation flashed.

And for one heartbeat—

Lu Chen saw them.

Not one.

Dozens.

Life Meridian signatures.

Across Jiangzhou.

Across places farther away.

Each carrying a dead Valley name like a key.

A network.

Hidden inside living people.

False identities.

Seals.

Memories.

Roles.

The enemy had not simply infiltrated the Valley.

It had rebuilt parts of the Valley using stolen identities afterward.

The vision vanished.

Fan collapsed.

Lu Chen caught him.

The Life Seed pulsed desperately.

He stabilized the failing needles.

One.

Two.

Three.

Above, Returning Spring began humming.

And far away—

somewhere north of Jiangzhou—

the true Third Bell rang a second time.