Thump, thump, thump—Xu Fu knocked on the back door of the Golden Herb Apothecary. With a creak, the door swung open.
"Young master."
"Adam, from now on, don’t call me young master, alright? I’m hungry. Can you get me something to eat?"
Xu Fu walked naturally into the courtyard. The stone room where Adam Dale had once been imprisoned was still there, but now it looked like a storage space for odds and ends. The yard was filled with herbs. Xu Fu glanced around and, while Adam went inside, quickly picked up a handful of medicinal ingredients and stuffed them into his clothes.
A bowl of hot rice was brought out. Xu Fu ate slowly and deliberately.
"Eat quickly and leave, young master. Outsiders aren’t usually allowed in here."
Xu Fu sneered, glaring at Adam Dale. He thought to himself that this fool hadn’t told anyone about his identity, and if he wanted revenge, it would all depend on Adam.
The medicines Xu Fu took were all for external use. Some were highly toxic—if mixed together and ingested, they could kill someone.
After eating, Xu Fu claimed he was thirsty and asked Adam Dale for some water. While Adam was away, Xu Fu ground a few of the medicines with a pestle. When Adam returned with the water, Xu Fu took it, said he was leaving, and walked off with the bowl.
At the edge of the city, Xu Fu wore a cold smile. He used two sticks to fish out the herbs that had been boiling over the fire. Once they cooled, he glanced around, found some common plants, squeezed out their juices, and added them to the bowl.
“Let’s give it a try first, heh.”
Xu Fu carried the medicine, weaving through the alleys and streets, until he found the beggars who had beaten him. They were huddled inside a dilapidated shack at the edge of the city, surrounded by other beggars, seemingly cooking something over a pot.
As soon as he entered, someone immediately questioned him. Xu Fu smiled, walked over to the pot, and then deliberately stumbled, tossing the medicine bowl into the pot with precision. Instantly, several beggars grabbed him and threw him out after a beating.
Seeing the bowl, the beggars thought Xu Fu was just trying to snatch a bite from their pot and didn’t suspect a thing.
Xu Fu waited outside all night, watching as more than a dozen beggars ate from the pot. He waited, and as night fell, beggars began to rise, vomiting violently, their bodies convulsing.
Xu Fu laughed, watching the beggars who had beaten him convulse one by one, foam at the mouth, and within moments, they vomited blood and died.
The night grew darker. Xu Fu stepped into the ruined shack, quietly watching the firelight flicker across his face, which was twisted with wickedness. The ground was littered with cold corpses. Xu Fu began searching, found some money, and stuffed it into his clothes.
At that moment, Xu Fu felt much better inside. He laughed loudly. Suddenly, one of the corpses—a beggar—struggled to open his eyes, weakly pointing at Xu Fu. Xu Fu glanced at him, looked around, then grabbed a branch and started lighting fires around the shack.
In no time, the whole shack was ablaze. Xu Fu ran off into the distance, watching as people frantically fetched water to put out the fire.
“That really was satisfying, heh.”
Xu Fu laughed, looking around. In the chaos, he slipped into a stranger’s home, found some money and clothes, and left. By a pond outside the city, Xu Fu washed himself, used a knife to trim his messy hair, changed into clean clothes, and tossed away his old rags.
Victor Wu watched everything unfold, stepping out slowly. In his eyes, he saw black energy rising from Xu Fu’s body.
“Not a shred of goodness? Only evil.”
The wraith standing beside Victor Wu stared at Xu Fu in terror, shrinking behind Victor, clearly afraid.
Xu Fu finished tidying himself, then walked toward Victor Wu, clutching a dagger.
“Move, or I’ll kill you...”
In an instant, Victor Wu stepped back. He’d never seen anyone like this—pure evil, not a trace of humanity. Victor Wu waved his hand; the wraith flew forward but couldn’t get close to Xu Fu and quickly retreated.
“What do you really want?”
Victor Wu asked. Xu Fu turned his head, grinning wickedly.
“Before I die, I’ll enjoy everything the world has to offer. From today on, I won’t let anyone humiliate me again.”
Hearing this, I felt only dread, my heart pounding. I didn’t ask Xu Fu why he did such things—treating people like ants, killing without remorse, even finding joy in it. It was deeply abnormal.
“Want to call me a madman, Ethan Zhang? Heh, you’re right. All thirteen of us are extraordinary lunatics, pure evil inside and out.”
Xu Fu paused, picked up his wine, took a sip, and continued.
“That’s why we can never attend the Dark Banquet. From birth, we lost the qualification—we are completely evil.”
My heart skipped a beat as I stared at Xu Fu.
“What exactly is the Dark Banquet?”
“All I know is, without goodness, you can’t attend. Only those who embody both good and evil to the extreme are qualified. As for the other way to participate—you know it, don’t you? But for over two thousand years, we’ve never managed to collect or make the ticket required.”
“So, what’s inside?”
Xu Fu waved it off, then smiled.
“Only Emperor God, Sylvia Yan, and Phantom Sage know what’s really inside. Whenever the Dark Banquet is mentioned, I see fear on their faces.”
Xu Fu didn’t continue. I’d heard about this countless times, but I didn’t want to dig deeper—right now, I’m still too weak.
The next day, the afternoon sun was scorching. People everywhere discussed last night’s fire, which killed more than ten beggars and affected several families. Everyone sighed, but Xu Fu was smiling.
The money Xu Fu grabbed last night was enough for a good meal. He ordered a jug of wine and a plate of lamb, eating heartily and feeling great.
“Sigh, the poison sore on my leg still hurts. I shouldn’t be eating spicy food.”
Nearby, Xu Fu noticed two well-dressed men. One, a fat man, lifted his robe to reveal his right leg—a black, festering sore. He seemed unable to walk properly.
“Let me take a look.”
Xu Fu suddenly sat beside him, examining the man’s poisonous sore.
“Get lost, kid. Where did you come from?”
The fat man was visibly annoyed, glaring at Xu Fu.
“That sore has been festering for two years, hasn’t it? If it gets worse, you might lose your ability to walk.”
Xu Fu knew this type of sore well—he’d seen it before and knew how to treat it. Huang Ren and Zheng Boqiao had mentioned it.
“You? Heh, none of the famous doctors in the city could cure it...”
“How about a bet? Follow my method—if I can’t cure you, I’ll pay you 100 gold. If I can, you pay me 300 gold. Deal?”
The fat man immediately burst out laughing.
“Heh, kid, forget 300 gold—if you can cure me, I’ll give you 500.”
Xu Fu asked what medicine the fat man had used before. The man took Xu Fu to his spacious courtyard.
Xu Fu glanced around at the medicine the fat man had used. He couldn’t help but laugh—mostly topical ointments, which might help a little, but to truly cure it, the root cause had to be eliminated. It would take time and careful dosing; the medicine was too weak and, being toxic, could even harm the man’s foot.
“You’ve only seen quacks—the treatment was wrong.”
Xu Fu wrote a prescription. The fat man sent for the ingredients—there were both internal and external medicines. Since the household had medicine slaves, Xu Fu knew the right dosages. Previously, he’d killed patients by forgetting the difference between adults and children.
For seven days straight, Xu Fu stayed at the fat man’s house. At first, the sore hurt so much the man cried out at night, but after a week, it shrank considerably and didn’t hurt as much.
“Doctor, you’re a miracle worker, I...”
“No need for praise—it’s not healed yet, only halfway. Follow my instructions and you’ll be fine. Pay me a third now; I’ll come for the rest when you’re cured.”
Xu Fu spoke, and the fat man immediately fetched 100 gold, handing it to him. Xu Fu left, grinning.
With money in hand, Xu Fu looked around. He knew that in this society, without money, you’re nothing.
At a local inn, Xu Fu saw many swordsmen waiting to be hired. The clinking of coins echoed as Xu Fu tossed 20 gold onto the table, drawing every eye in the room.
Usually, hiring a swordsman costs at least 10 gold a month, but Xu Fu offered 20. Then he called out.
“I need a skilled swordsman. As for the price, we can talk.”
The clinking continued as Xu Fu kept adding gold, one piece at a time. Soon, over twenty swordsmen stood up, glaring at each other.
Only one swordsman—a woman—sat unmoving in the corner. She looked delicate and calm. Xu Fu glanced at her and smiled.
“Alright, whoever’s the best, I’ll hire.”
As the swordsmen left the inn one by one, the woman in the corner remained still, taking a stiff sip of her wine.