Upon hearing Ye Mo's words, a flicker of surprise crossed the old man's eyes. Although he already believed that Ye Mo had some real skills, the idea that he could completely cure him still seemed far-fetched. Moreover, the moment Ye Mo spoke, it was about money—he showed no sign of medical ethics at all.
In the medical field, having a 70% chance at a cure was already impressive. But this young man talked about it so lightly, as if it were nothing. That made the old man, who had just started to trust Ye Mo, begin to waver again. Still, considering that he had only a few months left to live even without treatment, being "cheated" would at most cost him some money.
But cheating him out of money wasn't that easy either.
He asked calmly, "You say you don't have full confidence to cure me now—so when will you have full confidence?"
"Three years," Ye Mo replied with a faint smile.
Ye Mo thought to himself that once his Silverheart Grass matured, even if his cultivation didn't progress much, reaching the third level of Qi Condensation should still be within reach. He didn't quite understand the old man's motive for the question, but he could sense the doubt. It didn't matter. He only planned to earn this money once anyway.
He wasn't stupid enough to share his secrets with others. Even if he gave up the money, he would never reveal his background. He understood very well what kind of place this was. If people discovered he had abilities that defied science, he'd end up on an operating table getting dissected.
With his current strength, he couldn't even escape if something went wrong. He was fully aware of how powerful the government could be. That's why he had to earn money secretly, never publicly display his abilities—lest he end up a lab rat.
"Then let's go with the symptomatic treatment. But how much do you want? We don't have the money right now. You'll have to wait until after the treatment—I'll have someone transfer it to you. Or, if you prefer, come with us to withdraw it," the old man said with a touch of weariness. In his mind, he had already concluded that Ye Mo was a con artist. After all, an incurable disease now wouldn't magically become curable in three years—who would believe that?
Still, he was willing to let Ye Mo try. After all, just those few silver needles had brought him back from the brink of death. He was curious to see how Ye Mo would try to "pull a fast one." He worked at Likang Hospital—Ye Mo wouldn't be able to run far.
But Ye Mo shook his head and replied, "No money, no treatment. I treat patients for money, and I need it upfront. I'm not interested in transfers or coming with you."
Ye Mo's flat rejection caught the old man off guard. Without solid power to protect himself, Ye Mo would never expose his skills. He had long learned how dark people's hearts could be. Except for his master Luo Ying, he didn't trust anyone. And honestly, he didn't believe this rich girl didn't have any money on her. Someone dressed that expensively surely had at least one card on her.
The old man's expression darkened. What kind of doctor is this? Whether he was a fraud or not, asking for payment upfront before even beginning treatment was outrageous. This wasn't just a lack of ethics—it was no ethics at all.
"Grandpa, I heard that's how doctors are these days—no money, no treatment. Don't be upset," the girl named Qing'er said, trying to soothe her grandfather now that his crisis had passed.
"How much for the symptomatic treatment?" she asked. She wasn't stupid. Even though she suspected Ye Mo might be exaggerating his abilities, he had helped stabilize her grandfather. And he was the only person who had guaranteed he could do so. She didn't want to pass up the opportunity.
"200,000 yuan," Ye Mo said, glancing at her outfit. Just her clothes alone probably cost more than that—so he figured this amount wouldn't be a problem.
But Qing'er was frustrated. All the money she had added up to only 50,000. This guy was clearly asking for more based on her appearance. What he didn't know was that her clothes weren't bought by her—they were gifts from her aunt. She couldn't afford them either.
"I only have 50,000. It's all on this card. The password is 880521," she said, handing him the only bank card she had.
Ye Mo took the card, glanced at her, and thought: Stingy. One of my Heart-Guard Pills alone is worth more than this. Still, 50,000 was 50,000. It was enough to ease his financial pressure for now.
He put the card away without another word, opened his kit, and took out a small, dark pill. Handing it to the old man, he said, "Take this Heart-Guard Pill first, then I'll start the acupuncture."
"What is this? Why is the pill so dark? Are you some street-side quack? This is Likang Hospital, you know," Qing'er said, grabbing Ye Mo's hand in worry.
"If you're not willing to proceed, I'll return your card right now," Ye Mo said, his tone growing cold.
The old man looked into Ye Mo's eyes and raised his hand. "Qing'er, step aside. Give me the pill."
Without hesitation, he swallowed the pill. He wasn't afraid of death, but if this truly bought him another three years, it would give him enough time to properly handle various affairs. Otherwise, a sudden death could throw his family into chaos—and decline. That wasn't something he was willing to risk.
Even if Ye Mo was 90% likely to be a fraud, there was still a 10% chance—and that was worth trying.
Once the old man had taken the pill, Ye Mo nodded, motioned for him to lie down, and began the acupuncture.
Qing'er, still suspicious because of that pitch-black pill, grew more skeptical. But when she saw Ye Mo's fluid motions, and her grandfather's gradually relaxing expression, her suspicion turned into renewed hope.
She had seen acupuncture on TV before, and it looked nothing like this. Ye Mo's movements were smooth, practiced—at times so fast she could only see afterimages. That was what made her believe again.
Eventually, even her doubt vanished. Sweat beaded on Ye Mo's forehead, and she felt a sudden tension in her chest.
But then her anxiety returned. Her grandfather's expression was beginning to show signs of pain. Just as she was about to speak, Ye Mo flipped the old man over and delivered a strong palm strike to his back.
Puh! The old man vomited a thick, black, sticky substance.
Ye Mo exhaled in relief and turned to Qing'er. "Your grandfather's fine now. He'll be completely healthy for the next three years. Call a nurse to clean up. I'm leaving."
He slung his medical kit over his shoulder and left without waiting for her response. By the time Qing'er chased after him, Ye Mo had already disappeared.
"Grandpa?" she ran back into the emergency room, worried. Was this guy just a con artist who fled after taking the money? Come to think of it, hadn't the nurse said earlier that he wasn't Dr. Cui?
But now it was too late to chase him down.
The old man sat up, wiped his mouth with a towel, and a strange gleam flashed in his eyes. He looked at Qing'er and said, "That doctor wasn't a fraud. I can feel it—my body is lighter, less burdened than before. I didn't expect to meet a divine physician like that. Go ask the nurse what his name is. We need to make sure we stay in touch with someone like him."