Chapter Sixty-Five: The Nine-Hanging Pulse Diagnosis Technique

On either side of the elder’s seat stood two burly men. One was powerfully built, his features rough and imposing. The other had a sallow complexion with a bluish tinge between his brows, yet it was clear that in his youth he must have been strikingly handsome.

The pressure in the hall was overwhelming, not a force of cultivation, but one of spirit and will. It was as if a lone man stood before a crowd of thousands, all eyes upon him, the weight of their attention pressing down with a stifling intensity. Yet this elder wielded such pressure with far greater mastery. As a supreme expert, even the slightest release of his spiritual force could bear down on Lin Fan with the might of an avalanche.

Still, he restrained himself, directing only as much pressure as someone at the peak of the Qi-Gathering Realm could withstand. For Lin Fan, even in his wounded state, this was not enough to inspire fear.

Step by step, Lin Fan strode from the entrance to the center of the great hall, then bowed deeply with cupped fists to the elder. “Lin Fan of the Lin family pays his respects to Senior Jiang.”

“Good, very good.” Jiang Taihong observed Lin Fan’s calm composure, noting how his expression did not waver even under the pressure. He nodded approvingly. Whether or not this youth could truly save his son remained to be seen, but to display such bearing at his age was enough to earn his respect.

“Rise. You say you can save my son Beicheng—do you speak the truth?” Jiang Taihong wasted no time, cutting straight to the heart of the matter. Were it not for his son’s life hanging in the balance, Lin Fan would not have made it past the Jiang family gates, let alone stand before him. As the sole River-Realm cultivator among the noble houses of Qingxue Prefecture, he stood at the pinnacle of the entire Ice and Snow Kingdom. Even the heads of other clans had to make appointments to see him, and only if he had time and was in a good mood might they gain an audience.

But this was about Jiang Beicheng’s very life. When the guards reported Lin Fan’s arrival, he received the youth without hesitation, showing no disdain for his youth. Yet if this boy was deceiving him—no matter how much he admired him—he would not hesitate to kill him on the spot, and eradicate the Lin family as well. His notorious temper had earned him the moniker “Jiang the Lion” of Qingxue Prefecture, a title well deserved.

“It’s true,” Lin Fan replied with a smile and a nod. “However, I do not have the inner core of the Hydra beast.”

“Then how do you propose to heal him? Do you know the consequences of deceiving the Jiang family?” The burly man’s face hardened, a cold glint flashing in his eyes. Jiang Beihu, his entire life, had most respected his elder brother, Jiang Beicheng. Their father, being a River-Realm powerhouse, seldom had time for them—be it in cultivation or clan affairs. It was his elder brother who had raised him, so since Beicheng was poisoned, he had desperately sought out renowned physicians and master alchemists. He had only returned home two weeks prior, after the auction, intent on caring for his brother, when he heard that a young man claimed he could save Beicheng. He had to see for himself.

Now hearing Lin Fan admit he did not have the Hydra’s inner core, murderous intent surged within him. How could a mere youth of sixteen or seventeen, without such a rare treasure, possibly cure his brother? The notion that he might be a peerless physician or grandmaster alchemist was laughable. Everyone knew that the medical and alchemical arts were even more complex and time-consuming than the martial path. To reach the level of a famed doctor or alchemist required decades of tireless study, even for a genius.

“Of course I know the consequences of deceiving the Jiang family!” Lin Fan replied, unruffled, not caring in the least about Jiang Beihu’s threat. Even as his internal system warned him of rising negative emotions, he showed no sign of panic.

“Then have you brought news of the Hydra beast?” Jiang Beihu pressed, the coldness in his eyes intensifying, a strange aura rising about him.

Lin Fan shook his head. “No, I have not.”

“Then I’ll kill you!” Jiang Beihu roared, smashing the armrest of his chair with a crack. Unable to restrain himself any longer, he leapt up, ready to lunge at Lin Fan. A boy so young could not possibly be a famous physician or alchemist, had neither the Hydra’s inner core nor any news of it—was he not here to swindle the Jiang family?

“Hold your temper!” Jiang Taihong, noting Lin Fan’s composed demeanor, frowned and pressed his palm downwards, instantly freezing Jiang Beihu in place.

“Father, this youth is clearly blinded by greed for the bounty, here to deceive us—let me kill him!” Jiang Beihu’s eyes were bloodshot as he pleaded with his father.

Such words caused Jiang Taihong’s usually impassive face to flicker with suppressed anger. “So many years, and you’ve yet to learn restraint. How can I ever entrust the position of clan head to you in the future?”

“I don’t want to be clan head—the clan head should be my brother!” Jiang Beihu’s voice trembled, his eyes red with emotion.

“Insolence! Is that how you speak to your father?” At this, the sickly yet still graceful man, previously silent and composed, lifted his head and glared at Jiang Beihu. “My poison is already beyond cure. Of the Jiang family’s direct line, only you and I remain. If not you, then who?”

“But, Brother…” Jiang Beihu tried to protest, but under his brother’s glare, he fell silent and sat back down.

Observing this, Lin Fan narrowed his eyes. He realized that Jiang Beihu did not fear his River-Realm father, but was deeply afraid of his gravely poisoned elder brother.

“You are Lin Fan, correct? Since you have neither the Hydra’s inner core nor any news of it, how do you intend to save me?” The sallow-faced, handsome man—Jiang Beicheng—waited until his brother was seated and his father’s anger had subsided before turning to Lin Fan. “Allow me to introduce myself. I am Jiang Beicheng.”

Despite his obvious illness, Jiang Beicheng’s bearing was impressive, leaving a strong, positive impression.

“May I take your pulse?” Lin Fan pondered for a moment before speaking.

In his estimation, Jiang Beicheng, having been afflicted with such a deadly poison, ought to be bedridden, nearing death’s door. Normally, the toxins would have ravaged his meridians and organs, but with a certain secret technique from his previous life, Lin Fan could suppress the poison, delaying its effects for years. Yet now, though Jiang Beicheng was frail, he was far from spent, which contradicted the rumors the Jiang family had spread.

“Haha, that’s hardly an issue,” Jiang Beicheng said with a laugh, extending his wrist onto the table for Lin Fan.

Lin Fan stepped forward, placed his fingers on Jiang Beicheng’s wrist, closed his eyes, and began to gently tap his fingers. Threads of soul force, woven through his fingertips, slipped into Jiang Beicheng’s meridians—an ethereal, invisible current beginning its subtle exploration.

This was the “Nine Suspended Pulse Reading,” a technique he had learned in his previous life from his friend, the sage physician Bei Mingxi. It drew not only from the physical pulse, but merged one’s soul force with the patient’s meridians, probing every hidden detail.

Jiang Beicheng’s meridians resembled broad avenues lined with eight carriages abreast—spacious and resilient. Wild, liquid elemental energy coursed through them like coiling azure dragons. Lin Fan was startled: Jiang Beicheng was actually a Stream-Realm expert!

There was no time for astonishment. Continuing his examination, Lin Fan soon discovered black toxins permeating Jiang Beicheng’s meridians, corrupting the circulating elemental energy and slowly invading his organs. At this rate, it would take less than half a year for the poison to reach his five viscera, resulting in inevitable death.

Though both Jiang Taihong and Jiang Beihu doubted Lin Fan’s ability to save Jiang Beicheng, from the moment Lin Fan laid hands upon the pulse, they sensed something extraordinary in his methods, and a faint hope flickered within them.

After a long while, having finished his examination of all the meridians, Lin Fan drew a deep breath and said to Jiang Beicheng, “This poison is beyond my ability to cure.”

Jiang Beicheng’s face darkened upon hearing this, but he quickly recovered and smiled. “It’s all right. After all these years, I’ve grown used to disappointment.”

Jiang Taihong’s expression was somber, sorrow welling up within him. For all his power in the River-Realm, he was helpless to save his own son. He had never truly dared hope, but the sting of disappointment cut deep. Repeated despair—eventually, the white-haired will send off the black-haired.

Jiang Beihu said nothing, but his gaze upon Lin Fan was restless and uncertain.

Jiang Beicheng noticed this, frowning slightly.