Chapter Eight: Stubborn to the End!

Master An spat out fresh blood.

It splattered on the ground, a thick, dark purple, bubbling with small frothy beads.

Moreover, it was caustic; as it struck the floor, a white vapor hissed up in rapid wisps.

“Why is the blood black?” An Lan gasped in horror.

The others were equally dumbfounded, exclaiming incredulously, “Master An… is he poisoned?”

Before their astonishment had passed, Master An vomited up several more mouthfuls of blood.

When at last he finished, the pallor on his face gradually gave way to a healthy flush.

“Water…” Master An called out weakly.

An Lan hurried to pour a glass of water, helping her grandfather into a half-sitting position. The moment the cup touched his lips, he gulped it down, then said with delight, “How comfortable… I feel so much better…”

A collective shock ran through the room.

After so long in a coma, bedridden and unresponsive, Master An had not only awoken but claimed to feel comfortable.

Was it possible—was he truly cured?

“The heart rate is normal.”

“The readings are normal.”

“All the vital signs have returned to baseline.”

“Master An is truly well!”

The doctors in white coats rushed to check the monitors. When they confirmed the stability of the data, everyone was left in utter awe.

Their gazes toward Ye Wushang changed dramatically—gone was the former mockery and scorn, replaced by an inexpressible reverence and admiration.

“Grandfather, you’re finally well!” An Hailong shouted, barely containing his excitement.

An Lan, too, let out a long breath, the stone that had weighed on her heart finally lifted.

She gently settled Master An back against the headrest, then rose and bowed deeply to Ye Wushang.

“Mr. Ye, you have saved my grandfather—you are now the benefactor of the An family. From this day forward, you are our honored guest. Whatever you may ask in the future, my family will do everything in our power to fulfill it!”

Ye Wushang waved his hand. “Miss An, you flatter me. Healing the sick is but a physician’s duty—it is nothing worth mentioning.”

At his words, all the doctors present felt a sting of shame.

They dropped their heads in silent chagrin.

Xu Lang, in particular, turned pale with anger—both because Ye Wushang had stolen the limelight, and even more so because he had truly saved Master An’s life.

All his careful scheming over so many days had come to naught.

“I didn’t expect this fellow to actually have some skill,” An Hailong muttered, curling his lip. He disliked the man, but had to admit his ability.

After a moment’s hesitation, he asked, “Ye Wushang, tell me—why was the blood my grandfather coughed up black?”

“You’d best ask him,” Ye Wushang replied, casting a sidelong glance at Xu Lang.

Xu Lang’s body tensed, but he forced himself to retort, “What does this have to do with me? Don’t start making baseless accusations—”

“Still pretending?” Ye Wushang shook his head slightly.

Master An looked puzzled, “Mr. Ye, what do you mean by that?”

“Ye, I warn you”—Xu Lang interjected—“you can eat whatever you want, but you can’t say whatever you please. Master An is not only my patient, but also my friend—how could I ever harm him?”

“Whether you did or not, you know in your own heart.” Ye Wushang’s eyes turned cold. “It seems you won’t shed tears until you see the coffin.”

“Very well, I’ll oblige you.”

With that, he drew from a plastic bag two pieces of pig’s liver and lung, which he had taken from the kitchen earlier, and laid them neatly on the table.

He then took a low stool and inverted it over the organs, looking to An Hailong. “Young Master An, hand me the spray bottle.”

“Oh, and tear a scrap from your shirt and give it to me as well.”

An Hailong eyed him suspiciously. “What are you trying to do?”

“Just do it,” Master An commanded sternly.

Daring not to defy his grandfather, An Hailong handed over both the spray and the scrap of cloth.

Ye Wushang first sprayed the organs thoroughly, then covered the stool with the fabric. Finally, he poured the remaining medicinal broth from the bowl into the setup.

A few minutes passed.

When he lifted the stool, everyone was stunned.

“Why did it turn black?”

“And it’s bubbling—just like the blood Master An coughed up earlier.”

“What’s going on, Mr. Ye? Please explain!”

The crowd pressed him for an answer.

Ye Wushang glanced at Xu Lang, who by now was ashen and drenched with sweat.

“These two pieces, the liver and the lung, stand in for Master An’s organs,” Ye Wushang began. “Ordinarily, there would be no problem. But once the broth from this bowl is added, a toxic liquid forms.”

“The spray acts as a catalyst, causing the poison to circulate within the body—subtly influencing the entire system, especially in dim light.”

“This results in deep, chronic poisoning.”

“That’s why Master An’s condition kept worsening—yet no medical test or surgical procedure could uncover the real cause.”

He turned to Xu Lang and said flatly, “I must admit, you went to great lengths to clear yourself of suspicion. You wanted Master An dead, but without any risk to yourself—a clever and vicious plan.”

“If it hadn’t been for me, even if Master An died, no one would ever have suspected you.”

At these words, Xu Lang suddenly lunged, seizing An Lan as a hostage.

He whipped out five silver needles and thrust them toward her throat.

A flash and a whirlwind—

Ye Wushang moved just as swiftly, snatching up five bamboo skewers from the ground and hurling them with precision.

Not only did he deflect the needles, but one skewer sliced across Xu Lang’s right hand, drawing blood.

With a cry of pain, Xu Lang released An Lan, shoving her away.

“You little bastard!” Xu Lang shouted. “It’s all your fault—otherwise I would have succeeded!”

With a furious roar, he charged at Ye Wushang.

In both medicine and martial arts, Xu Lang was no ordinary doctor—he had skills of his own. As he attacked, the onlookers held their breath.

But Ye Wushang stood his ground, unmoving.

At the crucial moment, he ducked low, slipping behind Xu Lang.

With a swift motion, his fist became a claw, locking onto Xu Lang’s spine and squeezing hard.

Xu Lang spat blood, collapsing to the floor.

Before he could rise, Ye Wushang planted a foot on his chest, pinning him down.

“Xu Lang, you snake—I treated you as a friend, and you tried to kill me?” Master An cried out in shock.

“Speak! Why did you do this?”

Xu Lang lay sprawled on the ground, ignoring Master An, his only thought to get up and try again.

“I checked the medicine bowl—it contained five or six times the usual dose,” Ye Wushang remarked coldly. “You were in such a hurry to kill Master An; clearly, someone behind you is growing impatient.”

“Shut up! Shut up!” Xu Lang shrieked, enraged. “You little bastard—it’s all your fault! You ruined everything!”

“Even if I die, I’ll never forgive you—not even as a ghost!”

“Something’s wrong!” Ye Wushang’s expression shifted.

Before he could act, Xu Lang bit down hard. Blood spilled from his lips, and his hands fell limp.

“Grandfather, he—he’s dead!” An Hailong leaned over, checking his breath, and found none.

Even in death, Xu Lang’s eyes were wide open, fixed in a furious glare at Ye Wushang, unwilling to close.