Who are you, really?
The injured man who had swallowed Feng Yuqin’s pill actually sat up.
He looked stunned for a moment, then broke down in tears of gratitude. “I’ve lived twenty-something years—never seen a pill that heals this fast.”
Around him the crowd was buzzing with the same astonishment. None of them had ever witnessed such rapid recovery. They all wanted to try it for themselves.
By contrast, the man who'd taken the Grand Elder’s medicine had stopped bleeding, but the wound on his leg still looked gruesome. He had been relieved earlier to get the Grand Elder’s remedy; now he found himself envying the patient who’d taken Feng Yuqin’s pill. Their injuries had been similar at first, yet the other man was now more than half recovered, able to sit up and speak. His own pain was no less; only the blood had stopped.
“No, I don’t believe it.” The Grand Elder couldn’t accept it. “You aren’t human—you’re a demon.”
He clung to the accusation as if it explained everything. “There’s no pill that heals that fast. Something’s wrong with you, or with that pill. It could be false recovery—just a fleeting illusion. Once we leave, his injuries might worsen.”
Feng Yuqin only scoffed. “A frog at the bottom of a well.”
Old Zhao, watching the Grand Elder, sighed. “I once saw a pill like this in the Central Territories. If you don’t believe it, go there yourself and see.”
Meng Xiucheng spoke up, practical. “Simple enough. Have a physician examine the patient—if there’s a hidden problem, it will show.”
“I’ll do it.” A doctor pushed forward from the crowd.
Everyone turned to see who it was. It was Doctor Wang from West Street—known for his skill. Meng Xiucheng nodded to him. “Thank you, Physician Wang.”
Wang checked the man quickly; medical inspections rarely took long. Ten breaths later he straightened, astonished. “His recovery is genuine. There’s nothing wrong with him. If he rests and carefully recuperates, he’ll recover even faster.”
The injured man wept with gratitude. “Thank you, Physician Wang. Thank you, Lord Qin—your pill saved me. I’ll never forget this.”
Feng Yuqin looked toward the Grand Elder. “Is that settled?”
The Grand Elder’s face fell—utter defeat. He hadn’t expected this outcome. He couldn’t understand how he’d lost—especially to a teenage girl.
“Then the contest goes to Lord Qin,” Yun Feiyue announced with a smile. “Congratulations—truly, youth can produce heroes.”
Feng Yuqin inclined her head slightly, then addressed the Grand Elder. “I’ll be taking your storage pouches.”
Only then did the Grand Elder react to the totality of his loss. “No! Those pouches—those contain the years of herbs and treasures I’ve accumulated!” He began to bluster, trying to wriggle out of the bet.
“Lose with grace,” Feng Yuqin said coldly. “No amount of squirming will change the terms.”
“I’ll kill you!” The Grand Elder snapped. Losing his pouches had sent him over the edge.
Before he could act, Yun Feiyue stepped between them. “Grand Elder, Lord Qin is right—if you make a bet, you must honor it.”
“Prince, you’re siding with her now?” the Grand Elder demanded, furious.
Yun Feiyue’s expression remained calm. “I stand with fairness. The conditions were agreed by you in advance. If you can’t even uphold the basic honesty of a contest, it doesn’t bode well for your standing as an elder in the Alchemist Guild.”
“Are you threatening me?” the Grand Elder’s tone turned dark.
“Just stating facts,” Yun Feiyue said evenly. “If you make a scene, the Guild itself may send people.”
That prospect made the Grand Elder’s face even uglier, but with so many eyes on him he had no choice. He left with a last venomous glare at Feng Yuqin. “We’ll see about this, Lord Qin.”
Meng Xingyu snorted. “Can’t handle a loss—typical of the Alchemist Guild.”
The Grand Elder cast one glowering look at him, then swept away.
“Quick—let’s buy those pills at Midnight Pavilion!” someone in the crowd shouted. “If news gets out, people will come from everywhere to buy them.”
As if triggered by a starting bell, the bystanders turned into shoppers. Anything on the shelves of Midnight Pavilion was snatched up.
Dongfang Zhi watched, dumbfounded, and then laughed softly and told Feng Yuqin, “You’ve staged a brilliant publicity move.”
“It’s craziness,” Meng Xingyu and Yan Xiao said in unison as they watched the scramble.
Zhao Lao and Meng Xiucheng felt the same admiration. It was flawless strategy: win the contest outright, then let everyone see the pill’s effect with their own eyes. That kind of proof couldn’t be dismissed as a planted performance. People don’t forget a live demonstration. The result: Midnight Pavilion’s shelves were emptied in under half an hour.
Before the frenzy, Feng Yuqin had led Zhao Lao and the others upstairs. Her reward this time was richer than before.
Dongfang Zhi was the first to open the small porcelain bottle; when he saw its contents, he toppled from his chair.
Silence blanketed the room.
“You okay?” someone asked.
Dongfang Zhi scrambled up, eyes fixed on Feng Yuqin. “Who exactly are you?”
Feng Yuqin blinked at the question, then answered on reflex: “Feng Yuqin.”
Everyone else was puzzled. Didn’t Dongfang Zhi already know her identity?
“You’re the eldest daughter of the Chancellor’s household—Feng Yuqin?” he pressed.
She shrugged, palms up. “As real as it gets.”
His next question knocked the room into shocked silence again. “Then where did you get these—these seventh-tier elixirs?”
Seventh-tier elixirs.
Now it was everyone else’s turn to be speechless.