Serena Feng never wanted to save people with ulterior motives, but Prince Nolan's earlier attempt to stop her left her feeling stifled. She knew that what she was doing would not only fail to help Prince Nolan—it would actually bring him trouble. But...
Living as a person, you can't act only for profit or loss. She couldn't let herself weigh gains and losses with every action. Most importantly, she was Serena Feng—she would never lose herself for the sake of any man.
Some principles may seem laughable, but she still held on to those she believed in. Without looking at Prince Nolan again, Serena used the old doctor's medicines and tools to give the wounded man basic emergency care, then directed others to make a simple stretcher and carry him into a tent.
"Wait here, I'm going to get the medicine chest." Serena turned and went back into her tent, and while no one was watching, she took out an extremely small medicine chest from her Smart Med-Pack.
The medicine chest was so tiny it disappeared into her robes with a single motion, so no one suspected how she had brought it. Serena checked the medicines inside, removed what she didn't need, and added what she did. The whole process took little more than the time for a cup of tea, while the matches outside continued.
Serena ignored the competition and went straight to the wounded man's tent. He was a disciple from a second-rate sect, sharing the tent with two junior brothers. When Serena arrived, only the doctor and the man's master were inside.
"Miss Feng, we truly owe you so much this time." The master’s eyes lit up when he saw Serena, as if he wished he could pull her inside immediately.
Serena was deeply concerned about the wounded man’s condition. She nodded to the master and began emergency treatment.
The facilities on the mountain were crude; even if Serena was fearless, she dared not expose her Smart Med-Pack, so she couldn’t perform surgery here—she could only stabilize the patient. "Once his condition is stable, send him down the mountain as soon as possible. This is not a suitable place for treatment."
The old doctor agreed with Serena’s advice: "Indeed, we only have injury medicine up here. Young Hero Yu’s wounds are not suited to be treated on the mountain."
The master looked at his wounded disciple, then glanced at the ongoing matches outside. At last, he gritted his teeth and said, "Miss Feng, don’t worry. Once my disciple’s condition is stable, we’ll head down immediately."
Climbing up the mountain was hard, and going down was no easier—especially with an injured man. Their whole sect would have to leave together, which meant giving up the once-every-three-years Martial Arts Conference. But for his disciple, he had no other choice.
Serena admired this master for valuing his disciple over fame and fortune, and kindly said, "A blessing in disguise."
Leaving now might just save their lives.
"Miss Feng, you’re absolutely right." The master thought it over and realized it made sense; he immediately smiled and agreed.
Serena said nothing more. She trimmed away the excess fabric from her robe, then squatted down to treat the rest of the wounded man’s external injuries.
With nothing else to do, the old doctor squatted beside her to help and learn. Serena didn’t hide anything—she explained as she bandaged, even sharing the underlying medical principles.
Not only the old doctor, but even the master kept nodding, looking as if they’d gained invaluable knowledge.
People in the jianghu are bound to get hurt sooner or later. Learning another technique could be a lifesaver one day. "Miss Feng, please, save my senior brother!"
"Miss Feng, my disciple, he..."
Once she started, Serena couldn’t refuse the next injured people who were brought in. Nearly every match produced wounded fighters. Normally, these injuries would be considered severe, but after seeing someone nearly die earlier, the crowd outside no longer thought much of it as long as lives weren’t at risk.
"Prince Damien of Southlyn is trying to cripple these people." Prince Nolan glanced worriedly at Serena’s tent.
Serena probably wouldn’t get any rest today, and who knew if she could hold up tomorrow.
Prince Nolan’s guess was right. For the rest of the day, wounded fighters kept arriving at the old doctor and Serena’s tent, keeping Serena so busy she didn’t even have time for a sip of water.
The injured weren’t dying, but their wounds were all at vital points—enough to keep them from fighting and require constant care.
In battle, one wounded fighter meant two people had to care for and protect him. Even without thinking hard, Serena could tell what Prince Damien was up to: he was using this to weaken every sect’s fighting strength.
It was a clever scheme, but Serena wasn’t stupid either. Wounds she could have treated to seventy percent recovery, she deliberately fixed only to fifty, then said, "You must send them down the mountain immediately—the supplies here are too limited for anything more than basic care."
"His injury is too severe; I can only keep him alive for now. If you get him down the mountain before nightfall, maybe there’s still hope." Serena kept exaggerating the seriousness of everyone’s wounds, just to get them off the mountain sooner—at least to send the injured away, so they wouldn’t drag others down.
"Six hours—if his wounds aren’t treated and set within six hours, his arms and legs will be crippled. Do as you see fit." Serena’s face was icy, all her earlier warmth gone.
Some refused to leave, but Serena was even colder than they expected: "I do have medicine, but it’s for saving lives. Using it on his hand is a waste. If you send him down, his hand can still be saved."
"If I can save his life, that's already something. As for his hand—if you want to watch it become useless, there's nothing I can do."
"I'm a doctor, not a miracle worker. If you want to save him, you have to get him down the mountain."
...
Most of the wounded were in bad shape, and with Serena’s dire warnings, quite a few masters who valued their disciples agreed to leave the mountain. Of course, there were also those who cared more about fame and fortune than their students and refused to go no matter what.
With people like that, Serena could only mourn for them in her heart, hoping they’d survive.
When the day’s matches ended, more than thirty people had been injured—and none lightly. Serena and the old doctor barely got any rest, working straight through to late at night.
"What’s going on this year? In past years, there were never so many injuries, and never this severe. It’s like everyone’s gone mad, attacking only vital points." The old doctor was a well-known traveling physician in the jianghu, serving the Martial Arts Conference for several years.
"Anything out of the ordinary must have a cause. If you’re free tomorrow, sir, you’d better head down early. I’m not sure if the people below will find a good doctor." Tomorrow, Prince Nolan would not only allow this to happen, but use it to expose Prince Damien and his faction. Serena couldn’t say this outright, so she just hinted that the doctor should leave early.
The old doctor wasn’t stupid. Remembering Serena’s actions during the day, he understood her meaning. He thanked her for her kindness and said no more.
Being a hero isn’t easy—only Buddha truly saves all suffering. The old doctor had traveled the jianghu and knew its rules; he understood what it meant to protect himself.
The more you know, the more dangerous it is. He didn’t want to get involved in jianghu affairs. Even if he found out the truth, what could he do? He had no power to change anything, and no evidence—speaking up might even get him blamed.
If nothing has happened and there’s no proof, exposing things early only alerts the enemy. If you’re not in charge, don’t meddle. He was just a doctor, and all he needed to do was his job; the grudges and vendettas of the martial world had nothing to do with him.