dawn broke across the horizon, a golden sun slowly rising in the east.
Having finished his cultivation, Ye Chu returned to the Jiang residence.
When he arrived at the villa, he found Jiang Junyao already gone; Han Mengjuan and Jiang Haiyun were eating at the table.
"Where have you been running off to again at this hour? You're never serious about anything," Jiang Haiyun said with obvious displeasure, his face clouded with disdain.
He could never see Ye Chu with a favorable eye.
Ye Chu ignored him altogether, while Han Mengjuan called out gently, "Xiao Chu, come sit down and eat."
As Ye Chu took his seat, he noticed the somber looks upon their faces, as though weighed down by some unspoken burden.
Curious, he asked, "Mother, has something happened?"
With a weary sigh, Han Mengjuan replied, "Jiang Junlong's inauguration as president has been moved ahead. In three days' time, he will formally assume control of the Jiang Group."
Ye Chu froze—wasn't it supposed to be a month later?
In the next instant, understanding dawned.
Clearly, with Jiang Junyao's awakening, they feared unexpected complications, hence the hasty advance.
Jiang Haiyun's expression was equally grim.
Once Jiang Junlong took office, his inheritance of the Jiang Group would be all but sealed.
Even if Jiang Junyao forged an alliance with the Huangfu family, it would likely be in vain—at worst, a wedding garment sewn only to be worn by another.
What troubled them most was that, with Junlong enthroned as president, the days ahead for their branch of the family would grow increasingly bitter.
"There's no contesting the main branch as long as the old master lives," Jiang Haiyun muttered darkly.
Ye Chu longed to offer comfort, to explain Huangfu Shiyue's involvement.
But he held his tongue—whether they believed him was doubtful, and it would only invite Jiang Haiyun's mockery.
In any case, with Shiyue's support, the great house would hardly find the path to presidency smooth.
After finishing his meal, Ye Chu departed.
He planned to purchase herbs and refine some elixirs.
Last night he had offended that so-called Holy Sect. Retaliation could come at any time.
They specialized in poisons—while Ye Chu himself had no fear, those around him were far more vulnerable.
Better to craft protective pills as a safeguard.
Searching briefly on his phone, he soon arrived at an herb wholesale market in the eastern district.
The faint fragrance of medicine greeted him the moment he stepped inside.
As he wandered, Ye Chu noted that most herbs were artificially cultivated; truly wild ones were exceedingly rare.
This was no surprise—in these times, nature's treasures had long been overharvested.
Upon inquiry, he learned that the finest and most abundant wild herbs could be found at Wanyao Pavilion.
He made his way there before long.
The pavilion was a three-storied loft, its ancient design starkly at odds with the modern buildings around it.
Inside, a clerk hurried forward with a warm smile.
"Sir, what do you require?"
Ye Chu produced a slip of paper, densely covered with herb names.
"Do you carry these?"
The clerk's eyes widened.
The listed herbs were exceedingly rare—together worth several million at least.
Suppressing his excitement at having met such a distinguished customer, the clerk said, "Please wait a moment, sir, I must consult with the manager."
He hurried upstairs. Ye Chu seated himself patiently.
Soon, the clerk returned with a gray-haired elder.
"Manager, it is this gentleman," the clerk explained.
The elder blinked in astonishment at Ye Chu's youth.
"Sir, are you certain you require all these herbs?" he asked cautiously.
Ye Chu gave a slight nod. "Prepare five sets."
The elder was shaken to the core—five sets, worth over ten million.
But seeing no jest in Ye Chu's bearing, he quickly went to make arrangements.
Before long, the herbs were carefully packed.
"Sir, please inspect them."
Ye Chu examined the bundles one by one, then paid in full with a swipe of his phone.
The elder's heart eased at the sound of the transaction's confirmation. For a moment, he had feared this youthful figure was toying with him.
Truly, appearances could deceive.
"Safe travels, sir, and do return soon," the elder said, his face creased into a smile as radiant as a chrysanthemum.
Carrying the herbs, Ye Chu stepped outside—only to nearly collide with two striking women.
One of them was an acquaintance.
"Madam Huang, what a coincidence."
Li Jingxuan looked surprised. She had not expected to meet Ye Chu here.
"Divine Physician Ye, what brings you?"
"I came to purchase some herbs," Ye Chu replied casually, his gaze drifting to the woman at her side.
She appeared to be around thirty, with a rare cascade of violet hair, a voluptuous figure, and a refined allure that exuded mature charm.
What stood out most was the gentle, cultivated air she carried, the grace of an elder sister that irresistibly drew people closer.
Ye Chu's attention was not held by her beauty, but by recognition.
This was Yun Bingwan—the illegitimate daughter of the Yun clan, and one of Jiangdu's famed widows.
Ye Chu knew her well, for his own imprisonment had ties to her.
Ye Yichen, once a suitor of Yun Bingwan, had pursued her relentlessly yet without success.
At last, humiliated by rejection, he drugged her in a bid to force her hand and then present himself formally to the Yun family.
He dared such a crime only because she was a bastard daughter, a widow no less—believing the Yun clan would not raise a storm for her sake.
But the scheme failed. The Yun family's fury erupted, and in the aftermath, the Ye family was compelled to cede much wealth and push Ye Chu forward as a scapegoat to soothe their wrath.
Though only a youth then, Ye Chu had known of the woman who drove Ye Yichen to such madness.
Ah, beauty as calamity—how timeless the saying proved.
Ye Chu sighed inwardly and turned his gaze back to Li Jingxuan.
"Madam Huang, how fares your health?"
With a smile, she answered, "Thanks to you, Divine Physician Ye, I am greatly improved. I expect a full recovery before long."
"That is excellent," Ye Chu replied with a gentle nod.
After a few more words, he excused himself and departed.
When he was gone, Yun Bingwan asked curiously, "Jingxuan, is that the physician you spoke of?"
Li Jingxuan nodded eagerly. "Yes, Bingwan. Let me tell you, he is extraordinary…"
She recounted the tale in vivid detail, leaving Yun Bingwan faintly surprised.
Amusement flickered in her eyes.
"Heh… quite the intriguing young man."
…
Not long after Ye Chu left, his phone rang.
It was Zhang Miaochun. He answered at once—only to hear a young nurse sobbing desperately:
"Brother Ye, please come quickly! Doctor Zhang… he's being beaten to death! Wuu…"
The voice was familiar—it was the young nurse from the clinic.
Ye Chu's face darkened. "Where are you?" he asked sternly.
"At Baiyao Pavilion, in the southern herbal market!" she replied in haste.
Ye Chu's brows rose. What a coincidence.
"I'll be there at once."
He hung up, asked a nearby vendor for directions, and hurried away.
Meanwhile, at Baiyao Pavilion in the western section of the market, Zhang Miaochun lay curled on the ground, shielding his head as several burly men rained fists and kicks upon him.
"Stop! Please, stop!" the nurse Zhou Xiaoyun wept, trying to intervene, only to be shoved aside violently. She stumbled to the floor, pain flickering across her features.
"That's enough—don't kill him."
A deep voice echoed.
A middle-aged man in a Tang suit rose from a grand armchair not far away, idly rolling two antique walnuts in his palm.
He strode over with languid steps, looking down at Zhang Miaochun with cold authority.
"Boy, twenty million. Not a cent less. Otherwise, you won't leave this place alive today."
His tone was calm, but brooked no refusal.
Zhang Miaochun's face was already bruised beyond recognition, several ribs shattered.
Enduring the agony, he staggered upright, spat blood, and glared back at the man.
"That ginseng was a forgery! You're extorting me!" he growled, voice hoarse with fury.
Earlier, he had come with Zhou Xiaoyun to purchase herbs.
Through an acquaintance, they were led here, warmly received, and shown a selection of ginseng.
One specimen was claimed to be a century old.
He couldn't afford it, but curiosity led him to take a closer look.
That single glance became the root of his misfortune.
The Zhang family had practiced medicine for generations. From childhood, he had been steeped in the knowledge of herbs.
His careful examination revealed the truth: the "century ginseng" was a counterfeit, cobbled together from fragments of aged mountain roots.
Just as he was about to speak, someone "accidentally" bumped him. The ginseng fell and shattered into pieces.
The staff immediately demanded compensation—an outrageous sum of twenty million.
Zhang Miaochun refused, insisting the ginseng was fake.
But the attendants produced certificates of authenticity and purchase invoices—indeed, proof of a twenty-million sale.
Prepared so thoroughly, it was clear he had walked straight into a trap.
His protest had earned only a merciless beating.
The nurse, desperate, had seized his fallen phone and called Ye Chu.
"Fake?" The middle-aged man sneered.
"And who can prove that? If I say it's real—then it is real."