As soon as he spoke, the scholars in the courtyard sensed something was off. At that moment, a fine drizzle began to fall from the sky.
Accompanying the rain was a bizarre melody—thump, thump, thump—as if some colossal giant was playing heaven and earth as a zither, using rainlines for strings, strumming wildly with no regard for order or harmony.
Yet hidden in this strange music was a hypnotic power; the instant it entered their ears, their yuanqi scattered, their minds loosened, Spirit Embryos slackened, Five Luminaries unraveled, and they felt an uncontrollable urge to dance to its rhythm.
The melody grew louder and more intense. Realizing something was wrong, the crowd braced themselves to forcibly break the sorcerous music, but Quinn suddenly formed a seal with one hand and punched forward!
Sun-Bathing Soul Refining in Midair!
As his fist landed, a thunderous boom erupted from the center of the courtyard, shaking everyone’s souls, rattling their spirits, and destabilizing their will. Instantly, they could no longer resist the demonic music—one by one, they began to dance and laugh wildly, singing and cavorting across the courtyard.
Suddenly, the melody shifted again. It was as if they’d been plunged into a divine-demon battlefield—warhorses and weapons crashing all around, overwhelming them so completely that they couldn’t help but fight back.
This counterattack was no small matter—even those with a shred of clarity had to defend themselves against the others’ attacks. The moment they raised a hand to respond, the music pierced their remaining reason and shattered it in an instant!
Boom!
All kinds of techniques erupted in the courtyard, spells flying everywhere. In an instant, blood was drawn and many cried out in pain, snapping back to their senses—only for Quinn, ghostlike, to weave through the crowd and flick each newly-awakened person away with a single finger!
Thunder-Pluck Pipa Flick!
His fingers moved with the music—plucking, brushing, hooking, lifting, striking, snapping, flicking—each motion razor-sharp. Mixed in with the maddening melody were bursts of thunder, vibrating the air and echoing with the heavy thud of impacts.
After a moment, only Wes Young was left, still dancing and singing in the little courtyard.
Quinn withdrew his technique—the rain vanished, the music faded, and only then did Wes snap back to his senses. He looked around in panic, only to find his courtyard covered in footprints, the flowers and plants ruined. His face went pale as he cried out, "Brother Qin, what happened here?"
"Just borrowed your place to teach a few blind fools a lesson."
Quinn grinned, "Your place is secluded—no one to interfere while I beat them up."
Wes Young was stunned. He rushed to check the courtyard walls, only to see scholar after scholar hanging from the walls, their heads embedded in the brick, too weak to move.
Wes's face turned ashen. "Brother, you've caused a huge disaster! These scholars arrived at the Academy years before us. Anyone admitted here is a scion of some great clan! Now you've beaten them—what happens next?"
Quinn shrugged, "If I didn't beat them, I'd just be waiting for them to beat me. What's done is done."
Wes stamped his feet in distress. "You used my courtyard to beat them up—I'm from the Wayne family, so they won't dare touch me, but you're definitely in trouble. What are we supposed to do now...?"
Quinn headed for the gate, laughing, "If they come to teach me a lesson, they'd better be ready to be taught one themselves."
He stepped outside and saw head after head poking out from the courtyard walls. Quinn glanced over them all, then strode off.
"Abandoned person..."
One scholar came to, weakly muttering, "You dare ambush us? Once we recover, you're dead..."
Quinn's face darkened. "Say 'abandoned person' one more time, and I'll beat you every time I see you!"
"Abandoned person!"
Quinn yanked the scholar out of the wall, dragged him to his own doorway, and surged his yuanqi, stiffening the scholar's body like a giant brush. Using blood from the man's smashed head, he wrote on the wall.
Quinn scrawled two bold lines, then wrote another row on the door lintel. Finally, he slammed the bloodied scholar into the ground, leaving only his head exposed. The man, furious and desperate, promptly fainted.
The other scholars woke up one by one, pulling their heads out of the walls, all wearing expressions of shame and uncertainty. They'd let their guard down and been ambushed by Quinn—not in the flesh, but in the soul, which was far harder to defend against.
If Quinn had targeted their bodies with spells, they'd have been able to defend themselves—their cultivation wasn't much weaker, and they had numbers on their side. At best, Quinn could have knocked out one or two. But a soul art was something else entirely.
With his improved Thunder-Pluck Pipa Flick, Quinn controlled their souls and consciousness directly. Whenever they tried to break free, Sun-Bathing Soul Refining in Midair would shatter their spirits again, leaving them no chance to fight back—they were all knocked out, heads stuck in the wall.
Wes Young hurriedly declared, "Gentlemen, I'm from the Wayne family, State Duke Residence—I had nothing to do with this!"
The dozen scholars exchanged glances. One sighed, "We've been planted—outsmarted by the new kid, lost all our dignity. Brother from the Wayne family, please don't spread this around—let us keep a little face."
Wes let out a sigh of relief. "Don't worry, I'm always tight-lipped. I won't breathe a word of this to outsiders. So, gentlemen, what's your next move?"
"Naturally, we’ll get our dignity back."
None of them had the face to stay. They all limped out together, grumbling, "We’ve embarrassed ourselves—let’s heal up and reclaim our pride tomorrow!"
"He caught us off guard this time, but tomorrow we'll make him pay!"
Wes Young was stunned, muttering, "Brother Qin is getting scarier—he already sent Daoist Lingyun flying, and now this. Even I almost got caught by his demon-music. But those guys will be ready next time; tomorrow might not be so easy for him. After all, they've been at the Academy years longer than us, their skills and insights far surpass ours. The Heavenly Records Tower is full of sect-suppressing arts from every school..."
The scholars passed Quinn's courtyard. By chance, they glanced up to see two bloody lines scrawled on the wall: "Sweeping the Capital, Invincible in All Fights; Kicking Eight Hundred Academy Scholars!"
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On the door lintel, four words were scrawled: "Invincible Five Luminaries!"
And on the ground in front of the door, a man was still stuck, head-first.
The crowd, faces grim, stepped forward and pulled him out of the dirt. "Leave those words up for now—we’ll shame him with them tomorrow!"
Quinn grabbed a bite to eat on the road, then returned to Listening Rain Pavilion to continue his free clinic. He was gaining a reputation in the capital—even the wealthy and powerful had heard of the young divine physician in Flower Lane, specializing in difficult gynecological cases.
Men also came seeking treatment, and Quinn accepted them all, but there were still a few illnesses he couldn’t cure. These cases were strange: no symptoms, yet the patient wasted away, so thin they were little more than skin and bones.
There were five such patients, carried in together by several soldiers.
After examining them for a while, Quinn said, "This is witch-poison. If you’d brought them sooner, I could have treated it. But now—they’re already dead. I can’t save them."
The lead soldier was furious. "Quack! They’re still breathing, still alive, and you say they’re dead? How does that make sense?"
Quinn shook his head. "They’re dead—their bodies just haven’t caught up. They’ve been poisoned by witchcraft from the Barbarian Di Kingdom. Unlike ordinary poison, which targets the body and nerves, witch-poison attacks the soul. Their souls died five or six days ago; this one, more than ten days ago."
The soldier’s eyes reddened. "We’re from the border. The border’s at war with the Barbarian Di Kingdom. On the battlefield, a horned barbarian used a mirror on them; after that, they started wasting away—no matter what they ate, they never gained weight, and even miracle pills didn’t help. The army doctor said there was no hope, so the general sent us to bring these brothers home. Divine physician, you have to save them..."
Quinn shook his head. "Their souls are already dead. I can't save them. You should go back."
The soldier broke down in tears, carrying the five men away with his comrades.
Suddenly Quinn called out, "General, I'll give you a prescription. If anyone else gets poisoned like this, my remedy can save them."
The soldier stopped at once. Quinn wrote out the prescription and handed it over. "This formula is called Pure Yang Worm-Refining Pill. It can counteract the soul-worms in witch-poison."
The soldier was astonished and overjoyed, dropping to his knees and kowtowing several times.
Quinn hurriedly helped him up. "There's no need for that."
The soldier wiped away his tears and left.
Quinn turned back and continued his consultations.
He’d heard about witch-poison from the Apothecary—it’s a kind of sorcerous magic. Great witches routinely refine poisons with venomous insects, absorbing both the soul and toxin into their own spirit. To kill, they don’t need to poison directly; a glance or a hidden attack is enough, and the symptoms are always bizarre.
Witch-poison sorcery targets the soul—it’s a method for poisoning souls, completely different from ordinary toxins. Regular antidotes are useless against it.