Chapter 6: Medicinal Herbs

As Zhao Heilong's long blade came crashing down, the faces of the onlookers turned pale with shock. Many had already imagined the gruesome scene of Xu Yang’s skull being split open, and could not help but avert their eyes in pity.

Xu Yang himself felt his heart seize as the dazzling arc of the blade slashed toward him. In that moment between life and death, the cultivation technique inherited from the Emperor stirred into frenzied motion.

In a flash, a faint golden light flickered in his eyes.

In that split second, a wild and domineering imperial aura surged to Xu Yang’s heart. Panic, fear, helplessness—all the negative emotions dissipated under the sweep of this Emperor’s will.

A rebellious, cold smirk curled at Xu Yang’s lips.

At the same time, he twisted his body sharply, contorting himself into an almost inhuman posture.

Clang!

The blade missed, grazing his scalp and cleaving nothing but air before crashing heavily to the ground.

A strike that should have been all but certain—how could it have missed?

For an instant, Zhao Heilong’s face was a mask of confusion.

Xu Yang, meanwhile, moved like a phantom, closing in on Zhao Heilong’s chest in the blink of an eye.

Whoosh!

A fist, breaking the air with a whistle, smashed fiercely into Zhao Heilong’s abdomen.

Zhao Heilong doubled over like a boiled shrimp, his body sent flying back.

Thud!

He tumbled a full seven or eight meters before crashing to the ground.

Just as he struggled to rise, Xu Yang was already upon him like his own shadow. With a heavy stomp, Xu Yang pinned Zhao Heilong’s chest to the ground.

All of this happened in the span of an instant.

The onlookers were utterly dumbfounded by what they saw.

Just moments ago, Xu Yang had seemed about to be cleaved in two—how had he suddenly turned the tables?

What in the world had just happened?

The crowd was utterly bewildered, while Zhao Heilong was seized by abject terror.

In that moment, he sensed the aura of death radiating from Xu Yang.

Terror gripped him so hard his limbs stiffened and he could barely breathe, his heart pounding wildly as if it would leap from his throat.

He was a notorious underworld boss, with over a dozen lives on his hands—a man known for his audacity and ruthlessness.

Yet now, Zhao Heilong felt as helpless as a newborn chick, his fate entirely in Xu Yang’s hands.

Cold sweat poured from his brow, his face drained of blood. His lips trembled as he struggled to speak:

“Spare... spare me... I beg you, spare my life!”

Xu Yang, vaguely hearing Zhao Heilong’s plea for mercy, felt his mind relax. The wild, tyrannical aura of the Emperor within him quickly dissipated.

The killing intent in his eyes faded bit by bit as he gazed down at Zhao Heilong, his voice hoarse:

“Do you yield?”

“I yield! Brother, as long as you spare my miserable life, I, Zhao Heilong, will serve you faithfully as a beast of burden, never daring to betray you!” Zhao Heilong’s voice quivered as he clung desperately to his last hope.

Hearing this, Xu Yang nodded in satisfaction and withdrew his foot from Zhao Heilong’s chest.

Zhao Heilong let out a long breath, rolled over, and—like a dog eager to please—knelt obediently at Xu Yang’s feet.

“Thank you, Brother, for sparing my life. From this day forth, this life of mine belongs to you. The entire Black Dragon Hall will obey your every command!”

The fear that had shaken him to his core still lingered, and Zhao Heilong’s submission was absolute.

Witnessing this, the bystanders and the enforcers of Black Dragon Hall were all left utterly aghast.

They simply could not fathom how the notorious, defiant Zhao Heilong could suddenly become so docile.

At this moment, he knelt at Xu Yang’s feet, as humble as a beaten cur.

On the other side, Zhou Jian, the eldest son of the Zhou family, stood dumbstruck at the sight.

What the hell had just happened?

The underworld boss he’d hired to teach Xu Yang a lesson was now kneeling at Xu Yang’s feet like a beaten dog.

Confusion and shock warred within him.

But soon, Zhou Jian realized he was now utterly alone, in mortal danger.

A violent shudder ran through him, and he nearly collapsed.

Not daring to hesitate for even a moment, he turned and hobbled away in panic.

Xu Yang watched Zhou Jian’s pitiful retreat with a look of disdain.

“Brother, shall I go cripple that scoundrel Zhou Jian for you?” Zhao Heilong, now the very image of a loyal hound, asked respectfully.

“He’s nothing but trash. There’s no need to rush,” Xu Yang replied coolly, shaking his head.

“Very well—next time, we’ll deal with that bastard!” Zhao Heilong agreed, his face full of shared hostility.

Seeing Zhao Heilong behave thus, Xu Yang couldn’t help but smile faintly.

He understood that it was that fleeting imperial aura radiating from him that had overawed Zhao Heilong.

It was likely that the shadow lingering in Zhao Heilong’s heart would soon dissipate, and with it his slavish attitude.

After extracting some information about the Chen family of River City from Zhao Heilong, Xu Yang hurriedly took a cab and left.

Half an hour later, Xu Yang arrived at Tonghe Hall, the most renowned traditional medicine clinic in River City.

Though he had inherited the Emperor’s legacy and possessed advanced cultivation methods, his current strength was barely at the threshold of a cultivator.

To contend with the deeply rooted, formidable Chen family, he needed to raise his cultivation to be truly assured of victory.

The quickest way to do so was to ingest superior medicinal herbs and refine the spiritual energy within them.

Xu Yang quickly calculated—he didn’t even have enough cash on hand to buy an ordinary ginseng root.

However, he still had a few credit cards; if he maxed them out, he should be able to buy some herbs.

As he stepped into Tonghe Hall, a rich aroma of herbal medicine greeted him.

With his supreme medical skills, Xu Yang needed only a whiff to smile in satisfaction.

Indeed, this was the finest clinic in River City—the herbs here were not only varied but of the highest quality.

At that moment, several resident physicians were taking pulses for patients in the main hall, and there was a steady line at the dispensary.

Xu Yang queued up patiently, waiting nearly twenty minutes before it was finally his turn.

“What do you need?” asked a middle-aged pharmacist with glasses, his tone flat.

“Astragalus, premium ginseng, polygonum, and snow lotus. All must be over thirty years old,” Xu Yang replied after a brief consideration.

If he had the money, he would have purchased tonics aged a hundred years or more and taken them directly. Now, with funds tight, he could only buy a few herbs to concoct a potent tonic himself.

The pharmacist looked at Xu Yang in surprise, sizing him up before tapping at his abacus and warning,

“Young man, just those few herbs will cost you two hundred thousand.”

“What?” Xu Yang’s face changed instantly at the sum.