Hedonist Prodigy

Chapter 66: The Great Physician’s Sincerity

Jiang Feng was well-versed in alchemy and medicine—otherwise, he would never have been able to refine the heaven-defying Earth Origin Pill while still at the Golden Core realm. Nor would he have been struck into oblivion by tribulation lightning during his ascension, his soul transmigrating to Earth due to the pill’s overwhelming potency.  

Yet despite his vast knowledge, he had never heard that the fruit of the Hundred-Fruit Tree held such a hidden secret. He couldn’t help but marvel at the profundity of Chinese culture—its extraordinary figures and their elegance were no less impressive than the heritage of the Tianyuan Continent. Just as he was engrossed in thought, Pei Yuanshan suddenly launched an attack at him.  

Jiang Feng froze for a split second before his expression darkened. His figure blurred as he flipped backward, putting two meters between them.  

But Pei Yuanshan pursued him relentlessly. Despite his advanced age and frail appearance, the old man moved with startling agility, his strikes fierce and unyielding. The moment Jiang Feng retreated, Pei Yuanshan closed the distance again, throwing another punch at him.  

Jiang Feng had no intention of clashing with Pei Yuanshan. If he had, Pei Ruoxi would never have made it home alive that day. After learning of Pei Ruoxi’s relationship with Pei Yuanshan and meeting the old man in person, he had developed deep respect for him. He harbored no ill will—not even when sharing the secret of the Hundred-Fruit Tree.  

After all, treasures of heaven and earth belonged to the virtuous. If Pei Yuanshan truly was a man of virtue, sharing the tree with him was only fitting.  

But now, the old man had suddenly turned hostile, attacking without warning—and with lethal intent.  

Jiang Feng immediately suspected the Hundred-Fruit Tree was the cause, yet something felt off. If Pei Yuanshan had truly coveted the tree, why would he have revealed so many secrets?  

But if not the tree, then why?  

There was no time to ponder. As Pei Yuanshan’s second strike came, Jiang Feng’s temper flared. Forced back two more steps, he clenched his fists and said coldly, “Elder Pei, if you continue, I won’t hold back.”  

Pei Yuanshan stared at him with icy resolve. “Young men are hot-blooded. Let’s see how you won’t hold back.”  

Without hesitation, he pressed the assault, each strike aimed at Jiang Feng’s vitals. Jiang Feng sneered and countered with a punch of his own.  

Boom!  

Their fists collided mid-air, the impact resonating dully. Both were forced back a step. Jiang Feng’s heart skipped a beat—Pei Yuanshan was stronger than that Mr. Shen he had encountered days ago.  

Pei Yuanshan, too, was shaken. Knowing Jiang Feng was aware of the Hundred-Fruit Tree’s existence, he had prepared himself for a formidable opponent—but not this formidable.  

Yet he didn’t hesitate. The moment he steadied himself, he lunged forward again.  

Jiang Feng’s lips curled into a cold smirk. If he wants a fight, then a fight he’ll get. He had never feared anyone.  

He met Pei Yuanshan’s strike head-on.  

Boom! Boom! Boom!  

Fists clashed dozens of times in rapid succession, neither willing to yield or slow down. To an observer, their movements would have been nothing but blurs.  

Finally, Jiang Feng staggered back, his organs churning, blood surging up his throat.  

Pei Yuanshan’s fists were overwhelmingly powerful. If not for the Hundred-Fruit Tree’s spiritual energy tempering his body these past few days, Jiang Feng would have struggled far more in this battle.  

As for Pei Yuanshan, he was in no better shape. His once-ruddy complexion had turned deathly pale, his aging features starkly pronounced. After dozens of exchanges, he looked a decade older. Fine wrinkles creased his forehead, and his neatly combed hair was disheveled from the force of their blows.  

He stumbled back several steps before barely steadying himself, his body swaying unsteadily. With a cough, he spat out a mouthful of dark blood.  

Jiang Feng felt no pity. “Elder Pei, shall we continue?”  

Pei Yuanshan suddenly burst into laughter. “No, no more. I’m old—truly old. If we keep going, these bones of mine will shatter.”  

“Elder Pei, you—” Jiang Feng was taken aback.  

Pei Yuanshan chuckled. “Young Jiang, do you still not understand my intentions?”  

“Please enlighten me,” Jiang Feng said bluntly.  

Pei Yuanshan studied him with a faint smile. “If you truly didn’t know why I attacked, why didn’t you kill me? The moment I entered this courtyard, I smelled blood. Someone died here. And you—you could have ended me, couldn’t you?”  

Jiang Feng frowned. “Yet I didn’t. Because I don’t understand why you attacked me.”  

“Don’t understand?” Pei Yuanshan murmured, then collapsed to the ground, coughing up more blood. His breathing was labored, his chest heaving—clear signs of severe injury.  

“Elder Pei!” Jiang Feng rushed forward, catching him.  

Pei Yuanshan patted his hand weakly. “Don’t worry. I won’t die yet.”  

He pulled out a few pills from his pocket and swallowed them, sighing. “The young surpass the old. These bones of mine are truly useless now. I hope you can forgive my earlier rudeness.”  

“If you have something to say, speak plainly,” Jiang Feng said.  

A bitter expression crossed Pei Yuanshan’s face. “The Hundred-Fruit Tree is too precious. If word spreads, countless will fight over it. I had no intention of claiming it for myself, but I couldn’t take it lightly either. I had to test your character. The fact that you spared me tells me everything—my caution was unnecessary.”  

Jiang Feng’s heart clenched. So that was it. Guilt flickered in his eyes. “I apologize for striking so hard.”  

Pei Yuanshan waved him off. “Now you see why I told you so much earlier?”  

Jiang Feng nodded wryly. Of course he understood.  

Since ancient times, wealth tempted men’s hearts. The Hundred-Fruit Tree’s fruit might not be gold, but it could buy a kingdom—and with the right catalyst, it could even revive the dead. Such a thing would drive the world mad.  

An ordinary man, upon hearing such a secret, might lose all reason. Jiang Feng prided himself on his discipline, yet even he had been momentarily unsettled by Pei Yuanshan’s words.  

And in that moment of distraction, the old man had struck—aiming to subdue him when his guard was lowest. If not for Jiang Feng’s reflexes, it would have been him lying battered on the ground.  

“Now that you’ve tested me, are you satisfied?” Jiang Feng asked dryly.  

Pei Yuanshan smiled. “Though I’m but a humble physician, unable to achieve great deeds for country or people, I couldn’t let the Hundred-Fruit Tree fall into wicked hands. Your demeanor and strength have won my admiration. This tree… only you are worthy of it.”  

“You flatter me,” Jiang Feng said. “I merely stumbled upon it by chance.”  

Pei Yuanshan’s expression turned solemn. “Luck is still a form of strength. And unless I’m mistaken, you’ve already stepped into the Xiantian realm, haven’t you?”  

Xiantian realm?  

Jiang Feng had heard the term from Mr. Shen before. Now, hearing it again, he frowned. “Elder Pei, what is the Xiantian realm?”  

“You don’t know?” Pei Yuanshan was stunned.  

“I truly don’t,” Jiang Feng admitted.  

“When you struck, your internal energy was immense—clearly the mark of a trained practitioner. How could you not know this? Did your master never teach you?”  

Jiang Feng’s “energy” was merely the product of body refinement, not true Qi. True Qi circulation required at least the Foundation Establishment stage.  

But he couldn’t explain that. “If you have insights, I’d be grateful to hear them.”  

Seeing his genuine ignorance, Pei Yuanshan frowned but obliged. “You’ve heard of China’s ancient martial traditions, yes?”  

“A little. Please elaborate.” Jiang Feng helped him sit and listened intently.  

Pei Yuanshan, feeling a connection, shared what he knew.  

China’s recorded history spanned millennia—but what of the eras before writing? One thing was certain: since humanity’s dawn, people had sought to unlock their potential.  

Hunting, reproduction, war, longevity—all were pursuits of power. From these emerged the first martial artists, the legendary ancient warriors.  

Over time, their methods grew refined, their prowess transcendent. They withdrew from mortal affairs, chasing higher truths. Their legacies became myths, their arts nearly lost to time.  

Modern China’s cultural upheavals had further eroded these traditions. Ancient martial artists now wandered in obscurity, their existence all but forgotten.  

Today’s practitioners followed four tiers: Heaven, Earth, Profound, and Yellow. The Postnatal realm was merely the threshold. Breaking into Xiantian meant touching the barrier of true martial arts—but only at Yellow Stage’s initial level did real training begin.  

Each breakthrough was grueling, yet brought greater power and longevity. But many, in their obsession, burned their lives away.  

Historical records spoke of the Heaven Stage—but none knew what lay beyond.  

Jiang Feng absorbed this, cross-referencing it with his own knowledge. “Elder Pei, are you at the Xiantian realm?”  

Pei Yuanshan sighed. “Yes. I only reached it due to a youthful encounter. Since then… I’ve progressed no further.”  

“All these years…?” Jiang Feng trailed off.  

Pei Yuanshan laughed ruefully. “You’re right. An old injury from my reckless days hindered me. At thirty, I reached Xiantian—and never advanced again.”  

“You were wounded in a fight?” Jiang Feng guessed. During their clash, Pei Yuanshan’s vigor had faltered—hence his swift defeat.  

“Yes. In my arrogance, I provoked a master. He was likely at the early Yellow Stage then—now, perhaps Profound.”  

Jiang Feng didn’t press further. “If you’d like, stay here a few days. The environment may aid your recovery.”  

He wouldn’t mention the Hundred-Fruit Tree’s spiritual energy—but its presence would benefit Pei Yuanshan.  

The old man chuckled knowingly. “Then I’ll gladly impose.”