His life has ended, mine has found peace.

The Sage of Medicine relaxed slightly, his voice cold, "You? The poison of Cloud Silken Colors spreads swiftly; now it has reached the heart vessels. If true energy penetrates them, before the poison claims him, the conflicting energies will shatter his heart."

True energy, when not compatible—meaning, each person's cultivated inner power differs—can wreak havoc if one’s body harbors another’s energy for too long. At best, blood pours from every orifice; at worst, the body bursts apart, which is why the tradition of passing on energy to the dying does not exist.

Liao Yingdong, voice hoarse and strained, coughed lightly, then rasped, "My true energy will suffice."

Liao Yingdong let his energy surface, channeling it so that a portion flowed from his neck into the black-robed man’s arm, gradually merging, indistinguishable from each other. Liao Yingdong said, "Now, Sage, you should believe me. My energy can force out the poison without harming his heart. All I ask is that you protect my Blue Falcon Gang for a while after."

The Sage of Medicine withdrew his silken threads and silver needles, pushing him aside and speaking coldly, "You have no right to bargain!"

Liao Yingdong cleared his throat, easing some of the pain, and said, "Since you care so much for Zhang Ling, he must be important to you. Though he is now at the fourth rank, his inner power is shallow. I can save him, and even gift him a portion of my energy. I only hope you will guard those behind me."

The black-robed man’s eyes flashed coldly. "Is that a threat?"

Liao Yingdong grew serious, no longer speaking softly, "Not a threat—a transaction."

The Sage of Medicine said in a deep voice, "I’ll guarantee their safety for half a year. After that, I won’t interfere. And should you overstep, don’t expect mercy."

Liao Yingdong bowed deeply. "Thank you. Please, Sage, grant me a moment to speak with them."

The Sage nodded, focusing solely on Zhang Ling’s wounds.

Liao Yingdong turned toward the gathered men, his gaze settling on his eldest son. "Wenqi, come with me."

He strode out, Wenqi following.

A young girl moved to follow, "Father!"

Liao Yingdong turned and signaled to one among them, who promptly knocked Liao Wenya unconscious.

After some time, both men returned. Liao Yingdong was composed, offering no explanations, while Wenqi bit his lip, blood trickling as he fought back grief and rage.

Wenqi took his sister into his arms. Liao Yingdong looked at him. "From now on, Wenya depends on you. You can’t be indecisive as before. When faced with people or situations, don’t always be accommodating—be ruthless, make decisions even if it hurts. It’s your burden now. Blame me for my shortcomings if you must."

He then looked at his longtime brothers, bowing slightly. "Wang Kui, you followed me first. I once promised you riches and glory, but now, not only have I failed to keep that promise, I’ve led so many brothers to their deaths. I owe you all. Today, I must shamelessly ask: if any wish to leave, I won’t stop you. But those who remain, please support Wenqi in the future."

Liao Yingdong knew if more left, there would be nothing left of the Blue Falcon Gang. He waited awhile; no one moved, and only his oldest comrade stepped forward. "Yingdong, don’t worry. Not one brother will leave."

Liao Yingdong bowed deeply, then turned. "Please, everyone, step aside."

The old comrades knew he was resolved to die. Wenqi carried his sister away, taking the others with him.

Liao Yingdong bowed his head. "Sage, I am ready."

Song Linjie and the Sage stepped aside. Song Linjie glanced at him now and then; the Sage kept his eyes on Zhang Ling, but noticed the glances. Calmly, he asked, "What do you want to say?"

Song Linjie gripped his Sky-forging Blade, his demeanor uncertain, and asked directly, "Are you truly the Sage of Medicine from the Valley of the King of Herbs?"

He nodded. Song Linjie pressed on, "What is your relationship with Zhang Ling?"

The Sage shot him a glare. "Don’t ask what you shouldn’t."

Song Linjie fell silent. Liao Yingdong sliced open his palm, raising Zhang Ling’s hand so their palms met. A white mist began to flow from Liao Yingdong’s body—like the frosty currents of winter, yet with a gentle warmth—compressing between their palms before entering Zhang Ling, rushing to his heart entangled by Cloud Silken Colors.

Song Linjie exclaimed in astonishment, "Such potent vitality!"

The Sage watched coolly; with a thought, the five silver needles in Zhang Ling’s heart flew back to his sleeve. On his right index finger, a faint mark appeared, the invisible thread linking Zhang Ling and Liao Yingdong, though neither detected it. The Sage spoke, "A gang with many members is common, but each one so skilled? That’s suspicious. Blue Falcon Gang? Do you believe that?"

Liao Yingdong smiled bitterly. "Does it matter anymore?"

His inner power seeped into Zhang Ling, but the poison didn’t emerge from the wound as before. Instead, it dissolved with the true energy. Zhang Ling’s face grew rosy, vitality flowing through his limbs and bones like gentle spring waters—the very source of life. Meanwhile, Liao Yingdong’s energy dried up, his features aging in moments—black hair graying, then whitening, like a man truly at death’s door.

Song Linjie was dumbfounded. The previous displays of martial prowess in Windflow City were mere peaks of the martial arts, but this scene was truly uncanny. He asked, "What is happening?"

The Sage, through the silken thread, sensed the poison in Zhang Ling was purged, but did not halt the process. Instead, he spoke coldly, "He deserves death."

Liao Yingdong, his voice frail, replied, "I paid the price without reservation, so I can trust the Sage’s promise. The martial art I practice is called Transmigration Cultivation. It’s not particularly powerful, except it increases longevity and allows energy to be transferred to others. Thus, it’s also called Transmigration Rest. The manual also records another technique, called Fusion True Formula, which is the opposite—it absorbs others’ energy for oneself. It’s said to originate from the Light and Shadow Empire five hundred years ago. Transmigration Cultivation was passed down through my ancestors, never shown to outsiders, but when it was discovered, disaster followed. Assassins were hired; I escaped, but they too coveted the technique. Even now, they pursue me relentlessly."

Neither the Sage nor Song Linjie was tempted—they scoffed. Only Song Linjie showed some sentiment. "I never imagined such a sinister martial art existed. Sage, how will you handle it?"

Liao Yingdong replied, "I’ve given Transmigration Cultivation to Wenqi, so he can pass it on to Zhang Ling. If you wish to have it, Sage, take it. I trust you would never use it for evil."

The Sage remained silent, curious about Zhang Ling’s choice.

Liao Yingdong’s breath faded, his hand falling lifelessly, his vitality utterly extinguished.

The Blue Falcon Gang rushed back, finding only Song Linjie standing, and one dead and one alive lying on the ground. Wenqi could no longer contain his grief, wailing uncontrollably. Who said men do not easily cry? When true sorrow strikes, the tears are heart-rending.

Song Linjie looked again—Sage of Medicine had already vanished without a trace.