Quinn Shepherd and Crippled Joe locked eyes, while Grandpa Mark remained outwardly cold but inwardly warm-hearted. He said, "We're all adults now—no need for childish tantrums. We came to see how you've been doing lately, and to let you check if our hands and legs still work."
Crippled Joe grinned. "Old Grandpa Mark came running all the way from Great Thunderclap Temple, so you should know he came just to see you. That place is tens of thousands of miles away, but only a couple thousand from Oldridge Village. As for me, I definitely didn't come for you—my leg was at the Imperial Preceptor's Manor, which is closest to you."
Quinn felt a warmth in his heart. Grandpa Mark said, "Don't mind Crippled Joe's teasing; he's actually a good person. When you were little, you used to wet the bed all the time. Granny Sue had never raised a child before, and you drove her crazy. She wanted to send you off to be raised in the next village. She sent you there one day, and the next morning you were back in her bed. She tried several times, but you mysteriously came back each time. Of course, it was Crippled Joe who stole you back."
Crippled Joe shook his head. "Not true. I hate kids. If I hadn't only had one leg, I'd have kicked your butt every day."
Quinn felt a dull ache in his chest, a little skeptical. "I wet the bed as a kid, and Granny Sue wanted to give me away? She loves me so much..."
"She tried to send you away several times."
Grandpa Mark said, "Granny Sue had never raised a child, and you peed like a waterfall. You cried at night, cried when you were hungry, cried when you were full, cried when you couldn't sleep—the cow in the pen was nearly driven mad by your midnight wailing. It's no wonder Granny Sue was fed up. The rest of us old folks were at our wits' end too. Back then, Village Chief and Apothecary both said sending you away would bring peace and quiet."
Quinn's chest hurt even more. He scowled, "Village Chief and Grandpa Apothecary wanted to send me away too? Why didn't I know about this?"
Crippled Joe laughed, "You were less than a year old—how could you remember? Bedwetting was one thing, but you also pooped in bed. The Mute Smith even said to give you away, and throw in a milk cow as a bonus. But then you stopped wetting the bed, so they kept you after all..."
"Mute Smith wanted to give me away too?"
Quinn was silent for a moment, then said, "At least Grandpa Blindeye and Grandpa Deaf cared about me."
Grandpa Mark said, "Blindeye really did care for you. But ever since he picked you up and lifted you high, and you peed right in his face, Granny Sue sent you away, and he never spoke about it again."
Crippled Joe said, "When you were little, Grandpa Deaf was the most annoyed by you. You always climbed onto his desk, got ink everywhere, and even peed in his inkstone..."
He sighed, "You were cute when you just wet the bed. Once you got a bit older, you weren’t so cute anymore—you started climbing onto the village statues to pee."
Quinn felt crushed and said hoarsely, "Grandpa Mark, Grandpa Cripple... I’m the Cult Master of the Cult of the Heavenly Demon now. Can we please stop talking about bedwetting? Let me check your leg and arm instead."
Crippled Joe grinned at Grandpa Mark, "Even after I’m dead and stuffed in a coffin, just remembering Granny Sue sending you away for wetting the bed will have me laughing and jumping up!"
Grandpa Mark smiled, "Me too."
Quinn, face dark, went out to the courtyard, moved the cauldron and medicine furnace inside, and began checking their arms and legs. He took out the Junior Guardian Sword, made a small cut on Crippled Joe’s leg, and drew a few drops of blood to examine closely.
After a while, he cut Grandpa Mark’s arm too, drew some blood, studied it, and said, "Grandpa Mark’s arm has lost nearly half its vitality, but it’s been well cared for. It feels like someone used Buddhist True Words to resonate the blood, keeping it fresh. With some spirit medicine to nourish it, the arm can be reattached. A few more years of refining, and it’ll be good as new."
Grandpa Mark said, "My arm was kept in the Thousand Buddha Pagoda. The pagoda holds the flesh of past Buddhas, and monks chant True Words day and night to preserve the bodies’ vitality."
Quinn was startled and blurted, "Does Great Thunderclap Temple really have a thousand Buddhas in the Thousand-Buddha Pagoda?"
Grandpa Mark shook his head, "I never counted, but I suppose so."
Quinn steadied himself and checked Crippled Joe’s leg. "Grandpa Cripple, this leg... the blood’s gone bad, the limb is dead. It can’t be reattached."
Crippled Joe’s face turned pale, his smile vanished. He cried, "How is that possible? The whole world called me the Divine Leg! These legs were refined to the divine realm—how could it be dead? Besides, this leg was only cut off recently, just twenty or thirty years ago. I don’t believe my leg is weaker than Grandpa Mark’s Divine Fist. It must still be alive!"
Quinn gave a simple, honest smile. "Grandpa Cripple, my condolences—it’s dead, you can’t reattach it. And I tasted your blood just now, it had five-spice powder and a smoky flavor. I think the Imperial Preceptor turned your leg into cured meat."
Crippled Joe, furious, laughed, "Brat, you’re messing with me again! You think the Imperial Preceptor’s so poor he’d cure my leg to eat it?"
Then he grew anxious, "That guy really is poor—he wouldn’t actually make my leg into cured meat, would he?"
Quinn looked smug.
Grandpa Mark said, "Don’t scare him, thieves are always jumpy."
Quinn laughed, "Grandpa Mark’s arm and Grandpa Cripple’s leg might have less vitality than Butcher’s lower half, but at least they’re still alive. I’ll use medicine to nourish the living tissue for ten days or half a month—then they should be ready to revive. Once that’s done, reattaching them will be no problem. Butcher’s lower half is growing on the Witch Patriarch, so it’s fine. Yours are a bit worse off—no living body to sustain them."
Grandpa Mark and Crippled Joe both breathed a sigh of relief. Grandpa Mark said, "As long as it can be reattached, that’s good enough."
Crippled Joe grinned, "I took a share of every spirit medicine from the palace treasury. See which ones you can use. If you’re missing something, I’ll go... borrow a few more."
"No need. The Imperial Academy’s storerooms should have everything we need."
Quinn went out to the courtyard, about to check the herbs, when Lina the Spirit Fox called out from outside, "Young master, the Imperial Preceptor is here to visit."
"The Imperial Preceptor again? Did Grandpa Cripple get caught and lead him here?"
Quinn tensed, turned to close the main hall door, straightened his clothes, and opened the door to see the Imperial Preceptor standing outside. The renowned middle-aged man looked a bit awkward, standing there for a moment before finally saying, "Doctor Quinn, you’re wealthy—could I borrow some money?"
Quinn was puzzled, then laughed, "You came all the way just to borrow money? The mighty Imperial Preceptor of Everpeace Empire, short on cash?"
The Imperial Preceptor paused, then said, "I was out campaigning, and my manor was robbed and cleaned out. Now I’m strapped for cash, and I need to go pay respects at the Prince of the North’s estate. I’m really a bit short..."
Quinn’s mind spun: Did Grandpa Cripple really empty out the Imperial Preceptor’s Manor, leaving him penniless? Even with only one leg, Grandpa Cripple is still quicker than me.
He smiled, "How much do you need, Imperial Preceptor?"
The Imperial Preceptor thought for a moment. "My monthly salary is eight hundred Everpeace coins. Just lend me one month’s salary to get through this."
Quinn said to Lina, "Lina, bring a thousand Everpeace coins for the Imperial Preceptor."
Lina the Spirit Fox answered and slipped inside.
Quinn smiled, "How did the Imperial Preceptor end up so poor?"
The Imperial Preceptor shook his head. "Too many worldly possessions hinder cultivation and wisdom. With less desire, money doesn’t matter so much."
Suddenly, his eyes flickered and he smiled, "There are others in your house—a powerful presence, like a Buddha sitting there, unmoving... No, there are two. One’s body blends with heaven and earth, always ready to vanish—a truly masterful movement art. I almost missed him! Doctor Quinn, why not invite me in for a visit?"
Quinn shook his head. "Imperial Preceptor, I’d better not invite you in. My elders are here, and they’re injured—not fit to meet guests."
The Imperial Preceptor said, "So they’re injured. No wonder your courtyard is full of spirit medicine. I’m hurt too, so I won’t intrude."
Lina the Spirit Fox came back carrying a big money bag. Quinn took it and handed it to the Imperial Preceptor, smiling, "If you’re really strapped, you don’t have to pay me back. Imperial Preceptor, a true gentleman may be poor, but you don’t have to be. Poverty isn’t necessary for virtue."
The Imperial Preceptor replied, "I’ll pay you back. Once the Emperor’s reward comes in a few days, I’ll return it. I just need to get through these days."
He thanked them and took his leave.
Quinn waited until he was gone, then told Lina the Spirit Fox and the Dragon-Qilin to guard the door. He went into the main hall and asked, "Grandpa Cripple, did you really empty out the Imperial Preceptor’s Manor?"
"What do you mean, emptied out?"
Crippled Joe shook his head, "His manor barely had any money, not even a single piece of valuable furniture. The most valuable thing was probably Deaf Grandpa’s painting—that’s priceless."
Quinn was puzzled. Was the Imperial Preceptor really so poor? He’s the most powerful minister in the empire—how could he have no assets?
Some officials in the Everpeace Empire buy mines, set up refineries and foundries, and are filthy rich. How could the Imperial Preceptor be so poor?
Crippled Joe pulled out a scroll from somewhere and unfurled it. "This Sword God Back-Sword painting—must be the Village Chief when he was young. Deaf Grandpa must’ve seen him back then. Tsk tsk, you shouldn’t look at this painting—one glance and you’ll go blind..."
He rolled up the Sword God painting and tossed it to Quinn. "It’s yours, for warding off evil. If you use Deaf Grandpa’s painting of the Village Chief, even ghosts and gods won’t come near. Don’t open it—your current cultivation isn’t enough. One look and you’ll go blind, maybe even die! Deaf Grandpa’s painting skills weren’t at the divine level yet, but the subject was too powerful for you to handle."
Quinn wasn’t sure, but put the scroll away in his gluttonous pouch.
Grandpa Mark said, "Deaf Grandpa really did see the Village Chief, but he respected and admired him. In the village, he was closest to Mute Grandpa. Mute Grandpa left without a word, so I bet Deaf Grandpa won’t sit still—he’ll come looking for him."
Quinn was moved. Ever since he left the village, the elders of Oldridge have been trickling out too. They always say they don’t care about him, but it’s all for his sake.
He focused on identifying the rare herbs Grandpa Cripple 'borrowed' from the palace. "These palace herbs really are top-notch—only a bit less precious than those in Apothecary’s garden. Rare finds indeed!"
With these herbs, he already had a prescription to restore Grandpa Mark’s arm and Crippled Joe’s divine leg. All he needed was to buy a few auxiliary ingredients from the Imperial Academy’s storerooms.