Chapter Ninety: Master Su the Divine Healer

Earlier in the holding room, he’d instructed Hu Pao to relay a message to Old Master Zhang Song, and he’d made it sound grave enough—telling him he was being detained by corrupt police and beaten. If Old Master Zhang received such a call, he certainly wouldn’t ignore it.

Jiang Xiwen rose, strode out of the precinct, a chilling wind swirling around him with the air of impending doom. The policemen brandished their batons; one bold soul even drew his service pistol, aiming at Jiang Xiwen, but none dared approach.

To be threatened at gunpoint once in a lifetime was more than enough. Jiang Xiwen wasn’t foolish enough to play the hero now; he stood still, waiting silently.

A siren wailed from outside the courtyard, followed by screeching brakes. A squadron of riot police, armed to the teeth, burst in like a scene from television. The riot squad captain signaled; his team swept the compound, securing every tactical corner in an instant.

It was a dramatic display, reminiscent of a counter-terrorism operation—yet all for a single child, which seemed excessive.

Only now did they realize their adversary was merely a boy, one hand bandaged and marked with a muddy footprint, leaving them staring at each other in bewilderment.

Jiang Xiwen extended a single finger toward them and spoke calmly, “One gun is enough. Why waste so much manpower? What if a real emergency arises right now?”

“What’s going on? Who called us?” The riot captain was irritated, withdrawing his weapon and barking at the precinct officers.

“It was me!” One of Jiang Xiwen’s attackers rushed over. “Comrade, don’t be fooled by his age. Our chief and his brother-in-law—uh, the chief and Officer Li Wenwu—were both beaten down by this kid.”

Just then, the sound of a speeding vehicle drew everyone’s attention. A sleek black sedan executed a flawless emergency stop outside. A dignified middle-aged man stepped out, his police uniform lending him undeniable authority.

“I see it’s you who abused your positions to illegally detain a child,” the man’s voice was soft, but as he entered, all officers held their breath, his words echoing clearly through the crowd.

Seeing everyone stunned, the middle-aged officer raised his voice, “Back to your posts! You mobilized this much force against a child with no crime! I want a thorough investigation into this matter!”

“Yes, Director Zhu! They called in a report that sounded dire. As police, to make a false report—such conduct deserves severe punishment!” The riot captain saluted crisply.

“You may leave. Or do you want the public to gawk at your spectacle?” Director Zhu shot him a stern look.

“Yes!” The captain saluted again, gathered his team, and as they departed, switched off their sirens. The riot police vehicle eased quietly onto the road.

Jiang Xiwen exhaled deeply. Hu Pao had finally done something right; Director Zhu must have been sent by Old Master Zhang Song after his call for help.

Suddenly, Jiang Xiwen felt weak. He’d been pushing himself for so long, and now that the crisis had passed, the pain from his fracture, coupled with exhaustion, flooded his senses. His legs buckled involuntarily.

“Student!” Director Zhu was closest, stepping forward to steady Jiang Xiwen. Then he turned angrily to the others, “Look what you’ve done to this child!”

“Director Zhu, you should see our chief inside, see his condition.” A thin officer approached, feigning righteous indignation. “This child is no ordinary troublemaker; a few men couldn’t handle him.”

Compared to the vast metropolis of Mo City, this precinct was merely a district station, rarely seeing the director, let alone speaking face-to-face. The thin officer seized the opportunity to impress, having heard that Director Zhu Wei of the Mo City Police was known for his straightforwardness and disdain for flattery.

So he decided to show backbone, assuming the director wouldn’t side with a delinquent over the chief, especially since the boy had knocked out both the chief and Li Wenwu.

Zhu Wei frowned and rebuked, “A group of adults—police, no less—collaborating against a child, and when bested, you shout and complain? Call an ambulance, now!”

Only then did the thin officer realize: no one had notified the director, so why was he here personally? And upon arrival, he kept defending the child. Could it be the boy’s background was far from ordinary?

He dropped his tough act and reverted to his natural self, smiling obsequiously, “Yes, yes, Director Zhu, I’ll call right away.”

His demeanor only annoyed Zhu Wei further, who waved him off without another word.

The seasoned officers, reading the situation, hurried forward to relieve Director Zhu, half-carrying Jiang Xiwen into the office and gently settling him onto the sofa.

Jiang Xiwen gratefully accepted their care; he was out of strength anyway. With matters resolved, he could finally rest, leaving the damned chief and his piggish brother-in-law to regret their actions.

He didn’t know how much time had passed when he awoke from his slumber, feeling much better. Glancing around, he found himself in a room adorned with antique charm. The bed beneath him resembled a classical couch—perfectly comfortable.

Nearby, an elderly gentleman sat cross-legged, his back to Jiang Xiwen, reading from a book placed on a small desk. His white hair gave him an almost youthful appearance—a picture of wisdom.

Jiang Xiwen stretched, then asked, “Sir, may I ask—have I traveled through time again? What dynasty is this?”

“Oh?” The old man turned, his face surprisingly youthful despite his white hair, and after a moment’s pause, smiled, “You’re quite the humorist. Does your arm still hurt?”

Jiang Xiwen suddenly remembered his broken arm, which now felt numb. He looked over and saw the cast had been removed, replaced by fresh bandages.

Within the bandages, a faint black mud-like substance was visible. He twisted his arm, finding no pain at all. He immediately realized what had happened and, overjoyed, said, “You must be a master physician, brought here by Uncle Zhu! Thank you so much—I thought those bastards had set my bones wrong, and I’d be stuck in a cast forever!”

He’d been asleep since leaving the precinct, and now, waking in such a different environment—especially given he’d only met Zhu Wei once—he could guess how he’d been identified and brought here.

The old man silently praised him, then smiled, “You’re clever, young man. My remedy wasn’t wasted on you.”

“Does that mean those less clever miss out on your treatment?” Jiang Xiwen retorted, disliking the old man’s manner.

The old man only chuckled, “You’re right. Few people get treated by me nowadays. If it weren’t for Old Zhang himself calling, even a gun to my head wouldn’t get me to treat you.”

The bluntness of his words made Jiang Xiwen uncomfortable. He replied, “So you must be a friend of Old Master Zhang Song—an old comrade from wartime, no wonder your medical skills are so extraordinary! And honestly, it’s only because of Old Master Zhang that I let you treat me. Otherwise, even a cannon to my chest wouldn’t make me accept.”

The old man’s face darkened, his sharp eyes suddenly cold as he stared at Jiang Xiwen.

Jiang Xiwen met his gaze with indifference. After a few seconds, the old man laughed heartily, “Good lad! Few can meet my eyes like that—those who do usually respond with fierceness or coldness. But you, calm and unconcerned, are like cotton absorbing a blow; it’s rare for someone your age to possess such composure.”

Jiang Xiwen chuckled, “It’s equally rare for someone your age to let go of pride so swiftly.”

“Indeed, indeed!” The old man nodded, laughing. “Old Zhang clearly didn’t misjudge you. Clever, quick-witted—a pity that old fellow snatched such a fine grandson-in-law.”

Jiang Xiwen nearly fainted at these words. Clearly, after taking Old Master Zhang’s call, the old man had mistaken him for the Zhang family’s son-in-law.

Even without considering age or feelings, from the tone, only Zhang Song’s request would have brought about his treatment. He must be a close friend, so why lament that Jiang Xiwen ended up with Zhang Ya?

Though curious, Jiang Xiwen was more anxious to find Zhang Ya. If she realized her grandfather had sent someone to search for her, she might leave Mo City again.

Who was Old Su? Everyone knew, but I suppose it’s easy enough to guess, isn’t it?