Ye Mo glanced at the old man lying on the bed. When he had just arrived, the man had barely been able to walk. Now, he had already lost consciousness, and his face was visibly turning a bluish-purple at a rapid pace.
Looking at the anxious nurse and the even more distressed young woman beside her, Ye Mo didn't have time to speak before the girl, her voice choked with tears, cried out, "Doctor, please save my grandfather! It's my fault— I shouldn't have let him sneak off to Ninghai!"
Ye Mo frowned slightly. What use is regret now? He took a few silver needles from his kit and casually inserted them into the old man's body. True Qi instantly began to flow.
The old man let out a deep breath, and the bluish-purple color on his face quickly faded. In just moments, his complexion returned to normal. He opened his eyes and said, "Qing'er, don't worry. This is just an old problem."
The nurse and the girl called Qing'er stared at Ye Mo in stunned silence. They couldn't comprehend what just happened. What kind of medical technique was that? A few needles, and he pulled someone back from the brink of death? The nurse, still in her uniform, was the first to react. She looked at Ye Mo's masked face with shock and curiosity. Who is this guy subbing in for Dr. Cui with such amazing skills?
The girl, Qing'er, quickly snapped out of it too. She threw herself to her grandfather's side. "Grandpa, you scared me so much! I promise I'll never take you out without permission again…" Before she finished her sentence, tears were already streaming down her cheeks.
Ye Mo looked at the girl. Judging by her clothes—a Donna Karan blouse that must have cost tens of thousands and what looked like E-brand designer shoes—his first impression was a wealthy girl.
Looking closer at her tear-streaked face, she was indeed a stunning beauty, comparable to the woman who had previously bought his talisman. Her cheeks, flushed from panic, contrasted against her snow-white skin. The elegant curve of her long neck and the way her outfit hugged her figure made it hard not to glance lower—her cleavage emphasized by the tailored blouse stirred the imagination.
"Qing'er, I'm fine. Help me sit up," the old man waved his hand.
"You're an amazing doctor. I know my own condition. No one has ever managed to bring me back from an attack this fast," the old man said, still in disbelief.
Before he could finish, Qing'er turned to Ye Mo, visibly surprised. "I didn't expect your medical skills to be this incredible. Are you a traditional Chinese doctor? You used golden needles—can you tell what my grandfather's illness is? Thank you so much for saving him!" She fired off a string of questions without pause.
But in truth, Qing'er didn't expect an answer. Her grandfather had been seen by top specialists both domestically and abroad, but none could diagnose him. All they concluded was that his organs were inexplicably deteriorating, and he had at most six months to live. Her questioning was just instinctual—what really mattered was that this mysterious doctor had just saved her grandfather's life. Luckily, the Likang Hospital was nearby. Had they been any farther, the consequences would've been unimaginable. Her grandfather meant everything to her—and to many others.
Ye Mo nodded and said, "Yes, I know what his illness is."
Of course he knew. But he also knew that Earth's current medical knowledge hadn't yet identified it. That was why no diagnosis had been made. The illness was incredibly rare—perhaps one in a billion.
In the cultivation world, there was a mineral called Zijiao. It was a rare ore used to refine mid-grade magical tools. But if not stored properly in a jade box, it lost all value—and became toxic. Carrying Zijiao in one's pocket for even a day would allow its toxins to seep into the body, rendering the ore useless and potentially fatal.
The symptoms matched perfectly. When Ye Mo inserted his needles, he immediately knew this was Zijiao poisoning. The toxin lay dormant for years—sometimes decades—until suddenly activating. Once it did, if not treated properly, it would lead to certain death.
Symptoms included purpling of the skin, slow necrosis of the organs, and eventual suffocation. Only a cultivator could cure it. For ordinary people, even slow herbal detoxification was barely effective. But Ye Mo, being a first-stage Qi practitioner, could expel it using True Qi.
What surprised Ye Mo was that such a mineral actually existed on Earth. Interesting. If he could get his hands on it, it would be very useful.
"You—you said you know what illness my grandfather has? Doctor, can you cure him? If you can save him, I'll do whatever it takes. Name any price!" Qing'er's voice trembled.
The old man stared at Ye Mo in disbelief. It was already miraculous that Ye Mo had revived him. But now, he claimed to know the diagnosis? Is that possible? Even Likang's top doctors hadn't figured it out.
"Any price" made Ye Mo smile slightly. Young women really shouldn't say things like that so casually. But it confirmed for him that her family was indeed wealthy. Since that was the case, he had no reason to be polite—he did need money.
He turned to the stunned nurse and said, "Please step out. I need to speak with the patient's family privately."
Once the nurse left, Ye Mo tapped on the table and said after a brief pause, "I can cure this illness."
With a clatter, Qing'er dropped her phone. The battery flew out and landed meters away, but she didn't even notice.
"Doctor, you can really cure my grandfather? Is it true?" Qing'er ran to Ye Mo, grabbed his hands, and asked anxiously.
The old man also stared at Ye Mo in awe. He didn't think Ye Mo was bluffing—his earlier actions had proven he was the real deal.
"Um, Qing'er, calm down. Take a seat first," Ye Mo said, enjoying the sensation of her holding his hands. Compared to Su Mei, Qing'er was far more pleasant—beautiful, composed, and sincere. If she were a student at Ning University, Su Mei's title as campus queen would be in jeopardy.
Qing'er blushed and quickly let go, obediently sitting beside her grandfather. She had no idea Ye Mo called her "Qing'er" simply because he didn't know her real name.
The old man chuckled. Clearly, he found this situation quite amusing.
"Do you want a cure, or just symptom relief?" Ye Mo asked suddenly.
"What do you mean? Of course I want him cured completely!" Qing'er responded immediately, the blush fading from her face.
Ye Mo explained, "With my current skills, I have a 70% chance of curing the illness entirely. But there's a 30% chance he might pass away sooner. If you only want symptom relief, I have a 100% success rate—he'll be in good health for another three years. However, in either case, I require the treatment fee to be paid upfront. These are private medicines—I don't do IOUs."
His "70%" was actually a conservative estimate. Given his current level—Qi Condensation Stage 1—he couldn't fully guarantee success. At Stage 2, he'd be 90% confident. At Stage 3, he could be sure of a full cure.
"Ah… how can it be like this?" Qing'er was torn and looked helplessly at her grandfather, hoping he would give her some guidance.