Qiyang had already been at Good Cloud Mountain for two days. For these two days, he had been idly drinking tea and sitting around, a far cry from the urgent, earth-shattering situation he had imagined when he first arrived. Having been away from the martial world for several years, few recognized him now. As the saying goes, each generation brings forth new talents, and by now, he hardly knew anyone. Others regarded him as a stranger, and he viewed them the same way—like a puppy staring at a kitten, utterly baffled.
He had received a letter from the Central Plains Sword Association while traveling through Bianjing, stating that Xue Xianzi had been turned into a Medicine Person and requesting his medical expertise. Out of curiosity, he had rushed alone on horseback to Good Cloud Mountain. Yet, upon arrival, neither he recognized anyone nor did anyone recognize him. He was treated as an uninvited guest and relegated to a side room. He had intended to explain that he was Qiyang, but he couldn’t even get an audience with Cheng Yunpao or Meng Qinglei, so he resigned himself to sleeping in the room.
This trip back to Bianliang wasn’t for leisure—he had come specifically to retrieve something. Receiving the letter had been incidental. After two dull days, he was ready to leave, but the gatekeepers informed him that Young Master Tang had ordered no one to descend the mountain, lest they be spies for the Dissolute Shop, leaving him with no way to argue his case. Fortunately, Dong Hubi happened to see him today and recognized him; otherwise, he might have been confined on the mountain indefinitely.
Apart from knowing Shengxiang, Rongyin, Yuxiu, and a few others, Qiyang was largely unfamiliar with martial world figures. During his idle days on Good Cloud Mountain, he had learned that Tang Lici now stood at the pinnacle of the martial world, revered like a deity descended to earth or Guanyin incarnate—peerlessly elegant, brilliant, and talented. More importantly, he was fabulously wealthy and well-connected with the powerful. In short, he seemed to possess every conceivable virtue and advantage in the world. Qiyang had some interest in those described as "godlike, peerlessly elegant, and brilliant," but when such a figure was also "a royal relative, fabulously wealthy," and "surrounded by beauties utterly devoted to him," he couldn’t help but feel an inexplicable aversion.
He considered himself a person of good temperament, having disliked very few in his lifetime. But there was one who evoked this same unpleasant feeling—a man much like Tang Lici: of noble blood, illustrious lineage, striking appearance, gentle temper, seemingly flawless from head to toe, and crowned by women with absurd titles like "Sapphire Shining with Angelic Light" or "Prince of the Venus Forest."
Such people were simply too artificial. Qiyang sipped the tea from Good Cloud Mountain with boredom. It was said to have been transported from the capital by Ten Thousand Apertures House, but whether it was good or not, he couldn’t tell. He drank it with the sole intention of wasting it, savoring the act with perverse amusement.
"Young Master Qiyang," a maidservant in purple knocked on the door and said with a bow, "Young Master Tang requests your presence in his quarters to examine Senior Xue Xianzi’s poisoned wounds.""I'll be right there." Qiyang gave her a smile, but the maid, for some reason, looked despondent and didn't even glance at him as she retreated. He'd bet that this maid, like nine out of ten others, had her heart toyed with by the ethereal Young Master Tang. Probably most women on this mountain between the ages of sixteen and forty had suffered the same fate. Lost in these wild thoughts, he hopped off the chair and hurried after the distraught maid toward another courtyard. If he got lost and had to explain again why he wasn’t a spy from the Dissolute Shop, he’d rather bash his head against a wall.
The white mist drifted slowly, like an endless sea.
Qiyang knew Good Cloud Mountain was a humid place, hence the heavy fog. But this "Young Master Tang" deliberately chose to live in such an illusory setting—was it just to flaunt his celestial aura and appear even more "godlike descending from heaven"? He sighed inwardly. Freaks were everywhere, but this year seemed especially full of them. Across time and space, they were all equally insufferable.
The purple-clad maid gently knocked on Tang Lici’s door and whispered, "Young Master Tang, Qiyang is here."
A warm, gentle voice came from inside. "Please come in."
The maid opened the door for Qiyang but didn’t enter herself. Stepping inside, Qiyang saw two men—one seated, one standing. The standing man had a red snake tattooed on his face, with a long scar running through it. Qiyang stared in surprise. So even in this era, martial heroes liked tattoos—on their faces, no less. And on the thin skin beneath the eyes? That must’ve hurt. He couldn’t help but admire this man’s pain tolerance.
A young attendant served tea. Clearing his throat, Qiyang sat down, adopting the composed demeanor of a "godlike descending from heaven" physician. He took a sip, then calmly turned his gaze toward "Young Master Tang."
The man at the table wore white robes and had gray hair. Generally speaking, those who favored white robes and sat while others stood were the protagonists... That’s what Qiyang was thinking as he swallowed his tea. Just as he was calmly observing Tang Lici, Tang Lici turned his head slightly and smiled at him.
"Pfft—" Qiyang immediately spat out his tea. "Cough... cough..." Shen Langhun gave him a strange look. Did this legendary physician know Tang Lici? Sure enough, after choking on his tea, Qiyang pointed at Tang Lici’s nose. "You... you..."
Tang Lici smiled gently. "Me what?"
Qiyang kept pointing at him. After a long pause, he smacked his own forehead. "You..." He was never at a loss for words, but now, staring at Tang Lici, he found himself utterly speechless.Tang Lici waved his hand, and Shen Langhun, holding Yu Tuan'er, drifted away. Only then did Qiyang force a dry laugh and say, "Can I get your autograph?" The man before him had fair skin, an elegant and refined beauty, and looked strikingly familiar. It turned out that there truly was only one person with such an advantage—whether a thousand years ago or a thousand years later, there was still only this one. This person was none other than the son of the renowned chairman of the Tang Group, Tang Yingdi—a top-tier socialite in today's society and the object of fierce competition among major entertainment companies. Even after mysteriously disappearing over three years ago, reporters from major TV stations relentlessly pursued stories about him, with theories like "crime of passion," "revenge killing," "retirement," and "conspiracy" running rampant. To this day, he remains a daily news headline, with an exposure rate surpassing even the hottest celebrities.
The worst part wasn’t that this man was a celebrity among celebrities, but that he was also the acting director of Zhi Shou General Hospital, where Qiyang currently worked. Two-thirds of the hospital’s operational funds came from donations by the Tang Group.
He had always harbored an indescribable aversion toward this man. Although he signed off on the hospital’s funds punctually every year and made regular inspection visits, to Qiyang, it all felt like nothing more than a publicity stunt. This socialite, cloaked in the guise of a philanthropist, showed little genuine concern for the hospital’s patients—certainly not as much as he pretended to. This feeling persisted both before and after his disappearance. Even after he vanished, the Tang Group didn’t replace the acting director, continuing to fund Zhi Shou General Hospital under the name of "Young Master Tang." This only deepened Qiyang’s resistance, as if the hospital could never escape this control, whether the man was alive or dead.
Yet he had one reason he couldn’t refuse this man—a reason that also bound Rongyin, Yuxiu, and even Tongwei.
Shengxiang was receiving treatment at Zhi Shou General Hospital. His admission had been personally approved by this man, and all the technical support and expenses for his treatment were paid from this man’s personal account—an account that continued to cover the costs to this day.
Shengxiang’s treatment was an extraordinarily complex process, requiring substantial daily expenditures. No one but the extravagantly wealthy Tang Group could afford such expenses. So, no matter how repulsive this man was, he had saved Shengxiang’s life—and was still saving it.
He had never imagined this man would disappear and end up here. There must have been some very strange reason behind it. But even here, this man had managed to carry himself with the same demeanor as in the Tang Group—as if he couldn’t survive without that star-like status.
He had never met anyone more psychologically twisted than the man before him.
And yet, he still couldn’t afford to offend him.
"Oh... I’ll consider it," Tang Lici replied with a faint smile upon hearing Qiyang’s request for an autograph. "So you’re Qiyang." Qiyang gave another dry laugh. "I’ve always been Qiyang." Tang Lici raised a brow slightly. "I always thought you were just 'Doctor Qi.'" Qiyang smiled bitterly. "Just like I always thought you were called 'Lazarus.'" Tang Lici’s lips curved into a gentle, refined smile. "I’m glad you could come."After saying this, he took a sip of tea and fell silent. Qiyang rested his chin on his hand, watching him. He knew this person always put on airs. The fact that he had stayed here for three years must mean he didn't know how to return. Now that he'd seen him, he must be very concerned about where that freely traversable spacetime passage was—yet he stubbornly refused to ask.
Since he wouldn't ask, he stubbornly wouldn't tell.
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