Cha Ming nodded. “I’ll try to think of something. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a long-overdue meeting with my disciple to attend.”
“Then we won’t hold you up,” Elder Gan said. “By the way, an elder will be undergoing his transcendent tribulation outside the city soon. Thousands of us will be there to watch, and it’s a good place to exchange pointers and compete.”
Cha Ming nodded. “I’ll be there. Save me a seat.”
Cha Ming hesitated outside Yue Bing’s door. His hesitation wasn’t because of her but because of his own actions. He felt guilty for judging her so quickly without speaking to her, and even more guilty for putting off the discussion for a year.
What’s done is done, Cha Ming thought. I can only move forward. Overcoming resistance and building momentum was an undeniable part of what he’d begun to identify as his Dao. He knocked on the door and held his breath as he waited.
Yue Bing, the lone inhabitant of the small office in Haijing City, opened the door. Then, seeing who it was, she smiled. “Please come in, Master,” she said, welcoming him inside. She led him to a table and began serving tea. They used to drink together every day before he’d left for Jade Moon Planet. It was only now that he realized he hadn’t done so since his return.
“I’m sorry,” Cha Ming said, cutting the tension after a few warm mouthfuls.
“Whatever for?” Yue Bing asked, averting her gaze.
“For waiting so long,” Cha Ming said. “It was unfair of me to neglect you.”
She continued brewing tea and averting her eyes. “It’s not much different than the way anyone else treats me. In fact, you treat me much better.”
“People are scared of what they don’t understand, myself included,” Cha Ming said. “I made a mistake, and I own that. Do you want to talk about what happened?”
“Ah, you’re seeing me as a victim,” Yue Bing said, smiling lightly. “A poor girl who must be saved from the darkness. Have you ever wondered how patronizing that sounds?”
Cha Ming thought for a bit and nodded. “How’s business?” he asked, looking around. Her office was empty save for a lone bed. The usual concoctions and needles spirit doctors used were nowhere to be found. Neither were their impressive libraries or artworks.
“Surprisingly good,” Yue Bing asked. “Especially given my client restrictions.”
“Which are?” Cha Ming asked.
“I treat people and demons, both are fine,” Yue Bing said. “But anyone with a sin glow is rejected, even if they’re dying.”
“Seems a tad cruel,” Cha Ming said.
“It is,” Yue Bing said. “But to be kind to the righteous, you must be cruel to the merciless. Life taught me that. It’s not too late for you to learn the same lesson.”
Cha Ming nodded, tasting her words. “Anything else?”
“That’s it,” she said. “I’ll only refuse people beyond my ability to heal, but you’ll be surprised how few people in the city that applies to. Perhaps a dozen, excluding transcendents. I charge according to cultivation level and severity of the injury.”
“Far better than most doctors,” Cha Ming said. “They’re prone to daylight robbery. And when they fail, they blame the patient’s condition.” He also remembered Li Yin’s story about how he’d been forced to flee his city because doctors didn’t like him treating their patients.
“That’s right,” Yue Bing said. “But I guarantee treatment. I can do so because once I take on a case, I hardly ever fail. It’s only happened two or three times since I came to Haijing, which is better than most spirit doctors can say.” A soft ring sounded, and two figures appeared in the reception area. An attendant greeted the guests for her.
“Would you like me to leave?” Cha Ming asked.
“Stay,” Yue Bing said. “They won’t complain about your being here if I treat them for free.”
Cha Ming nodded and sat cross-legged in a corner as he waited. Her patient was apparently the son of a noble, a Haijing royal. The white-haired young man was an initial-marrow-refining cultivator, so the injury had to be extremely severe to warrant immediate treatment.
The Haijing nobles were a surprising addition to my clientele, Yue Bing sent mentally as she touched several acupoints to stall blood flow. Traditional medicine is extremely ineffective on body cultivators, who mostly rely on their own regeneration to recover. Usually, it’s best to feed them some pills that replenish vitality. Those who come to me are too grievously injured for that to work.
After exchanging a few words, Yue Bing glowed red with blood. Wings of blood sprouted out from her back as a red mist enveloped her and her patient.
Just where is the vitality coming from? Cha Ming thought. From a treasure? He dismissed that thought, as he didn’t see her ankh anywhere. Yue Bing used no fancy techniques, nor did she use acupuncture needles or specialized knowledge. Instead, she poured the bloody energy surrounding her directly into the man. It seamlessly combined with his own vital energy. Then, to Cha Ming’s amazement, the man’s lethal injuries began healing faster than he thought possible. What should have taken several days to recover from—far too long for anyone to stand such a grievous injury—took only a single minute. It was the fastest recovery he’d ever seen for an initial-marrow-refining cultivator.
The treatment ended as quickly as it began. From start to finish, all she’d done was pour blood vitality into the man. By the end of the process, Cha Ming realized the mist hadn’t come from an artifact—it had come from the void in Yue Bing’s bones. She wasn’t supplementing the man’s vitality with captured blood, but her own. Could he really fault her for that?
A while later, they were drinking tea again. “How do you cultivate your art?” Cha Ming asked.
“By fighting the South in various battlefields,” Yue Bing said. “I steal the blood of others to strengthen my body cultivation. Alternatively, I can use pills as supplements, but I figure why
