Inside the hospital room.
Lin Fan lay calmly on the bed, watching as Li Ang was wheeled away for emergency treatment. He couldn't understand why the man had reacted so dramatically at the sight of him.
So overwhelmed, he couldn't even speak.
Strange.
He glanced at Old Zhang, then at the One-Eyed Man.
Neither had woken.
With nothing else to do, he lay there motionless, eyes fixed on the ceiling.
A current of energy flowed silently through his body.
The principles of internal cultivation emphasized harmony with nature—tranquil mind, no desire, no disturbance. One must perceive the rhythms of heaven and earth, draw in their elemental particles, and refine that energy to strengthen the body.
Simultaneously, one must digest food and convert its nutrients into energy—also a basic skill of cultivation.
Ordinary people might manage the latter.
But to merge with the natural world and absorb its essence?
Only Lin Fan could do that.
He was without greed or obsession, living freely and whimsically. His thoughts were both simple and profound—twisting like an endless thread, impossible to unravel or predict.
"What happened to me?"
Old Zhang stirred awake, dazedly staring at the ceiling. His memory was foggy—how had he ended up here?
"You're awake," Lin Fan said.
"Mm. I want a Sprite," Old Zhang murmured, rubbing his head, still disoriented and craving the familiar fizz to steady his nerves.
"I want a Coke."
They looked at each other.
A mutual thirst in their eyes.
But there was nothing here.
Their gazes drifted to the One-Eyed Man.
"He's still out."
"Maybe he's a pig."
The two exchanged a look—and burst into giggles.
By the door, a nurse stood frozen, chills crawling up her spine. She couldn't understand their words, but somehow… their laughter terrified her.
Especially the sound of it.
It wasn't right.
Eventually, the One-Eyed Man groggily came to. His mind snapped to alertness—Where am I? What happened? Why did I lose consciousness?
It was deeply unsettling.
He vaguely recalled…
Needles. In his head.
Given his strength, even a bullet to the skull wouldn't faze him.
So how had this happened?
He turned his head—and found Lin Fan and Old Zhang watching him.
Smiling. Still. Silently. Eyes steady, expression unchanged.
Just watching.
A shiver ran down his spine.
The smiles should've been warm—like sunlight.
Instead, they felt unnervingly sinister.
"How… did you do it?"
His voice was low, controlled. He meant: How did you knock me out with a few silver needles?
If anyone heard about this…
One of Yan Hai City's strongest warriors—felled by lunatics?
He'd be the laughingstock of the underground.
But Lin Fan and Old Zhang only smiled.
Didn't answer.
Just looked at him—deeply.
After a long moment—
Old Zhang sighed. "Failure. His eye didn't grow back. I must've missed the right acupoint. But if I had another chance, I know I could succeed."
"I believe in you," Lin Fan said solemnly.
The One-Eyed Man's instincts flared. They wanted… another round?
Absolutely not.
But he couldn't let it go.
He had to know.
A nurse tiptoed in to retrieve some supplies. The One-Eyed Man tried to ask her what had happened—what the diagnosis was.
She panicked.
In her mind, he was one of them. When a patient in a psych ward spoke to her, she turned and bolted—didn't dare reply.
The One-Eyed Man fell into thought.
He refused to believe it.
There was no way a few needles could render him unconscious.
He'd survived being crushed by malevolent forces, bones shattered—never fainted then.
But this?
"I want to try again," he said quietly.
A warrior's pride cannot be so easily trampled.
Lin Fan and Old Zhang stared at him in surprise.
Then—delight.
"Great!" Old Zhang beamed. "I was just blaming myself for messing it up. But now I've got another shot!"
"You'll do it this time," Lin Fan encouraged.
"I will," Old Zhang said, eyes shining.
Then his face fell.
"But… I don't have the needles. They were taken."
Lin Fan draped an arm around his shoulder, comforting him gently.
"Don't cry. They were too cruel."
The One-Eyed Man stared at the two of them in silence.
He was now absolutely certain: these two were certifiably insane. The dangerous kind.
He even began to doubt himself.
Was he really considering letting them stick needles in him again?
Was he the crazy one?
"…I'll handle it," he muttered. Pulling out his phone, he dialed a number.
In the hallway.
Li Ang, having survived resuscitation and a dose of sedative, was regaining his composure.
Clutching the doctor's arm with tearful desperation, he pleaded, "Doctor, please! Don't put me back in that room! They're all lunatics—I'm a caretaker, I'm sane! Please let me switch rooms!"
The doctor patted his hand gently. "But isn't that perfect? As a caretaker, you're surely experienced. You'll be better at managing them than we are."
That broke him.
Li Ang leapt off the stretcher, fell to his knees, and grabbed the doctor's coat.
"I'm begging you. Please don't make me go back. I just want a different room—I don't want to die!"
Tears and snot streamed down his face.
"Come now," the doctor said kindly. "No need to panic. You're a professional—believe in yourself. Besides, we're out of rooms. And honestly, that ward comes with a hospital fee waiver. Isn't that a nice perk?"
Maybe he could be convinced with benefits.
Just then, a middle-aged man shuffled past. Disheveled hair, sunken eyes, empty pockets.
Clearly poor.
Hearing the conversation, a light sparked in his dull gaze.
"Doctor… is that true?" he asked eagerly. "If I agree to stay in that room, my fees are waived?"
The doctor nodded. "Yes. But… it has three psychiatric patients. They're dangerous."
The man shook his head. "I'm not afraid. Not at all. I'll switch with him."
Li Ang clutched the man's hand, overwhelmed with gratitude.
"Thank you, big brother. Thank you. You're… you're a saint!"
(End of Chapter)