Chapter 55: Medicine Hall

Chapter 55: Medicine Hall However, Hei Long didn’t have much time to dwell on this—or on the absurdity of Lin Fan being the so-called protagonist. Because right now, he had something far more important on his mind. The Ancient Golden Pill. According to what Hei Long knew from the original story, it was hidden deep within the medicine hall—untouched, sealed away, forgotten by most. A miraculous treasure that could drastically boost one’s cultivation if taken at the right time. In the novel, it was meant to be Lin Fan’s first major turning point. His rise from bottom-feeder to future powerhouse began with that pill. And Hei Long wasn’t about to let that happen. "That pill is mine," he muttered, his pace quickening: "I’ve suffered enough watching this train wreck stumble through life." He turned and quietly excused himself: "I’ll be heading out." As he made his way toward the medicine hall— Hei Long passed through one of the busier segments of the sect grounds. Disciples moved about their day—some sparring, some meditating, others simply chatting among themselves. Yet, as Hei Long walked through, the atmosphere subtly shifted. Heads turned. Conversations paused. Men greeted him with respectful nods, murmuring praises beneath their breath. Women, on the other hand... their reactions were less subtle. A few gasped softly. One girl clutched her chest. Another stared dreamily, utterly lost in his presence. Hei Long didn’t acknowledge any of it. He was used to it by now. Still, his sharp eyes caught sight of someone else drawing attention—though not the good kind. Up ahead, Lin Fan was limping along with his chest bound and ribs taped. He was being guided by an older disciple toward the medicine hall. But unlike Hei Long, his presence stirred the opposite reaction. People were glaring. Scoffing. Rolling their eyes. Whispers followed him like a bad smell: "Why is he even still here?" "Total pervert." And the most ridiculous part? None of them had even interacted with him. Hei Long smirked to himself. ’That’s protagonist status for you,’ he thought dryly: ’Everyone just irrationally hates you at the start, for no reason whatsoever. It’s practically a rite of passage. You’re hated by all, have no talent, and yet fate insists on handing you golden opportunities until you suddenly shine.’ Hei Long glanced at Lin Fan, who was now clutching his side dramatically, trying to act tough in front of a passing group of junior sisters—only to trip on a root and nearly faceplant. "..." Hei Long looked away before he started laughing out loud: ’Pathetic. If I don’t act now, that fool might really stumble his way into the Golden Pill by accident. It’s fate’s favorite trick—give the idiot a treasure, and the idiot becomes a genius overnight.’ His eyes narrowed as he picked up his pace. . . . "So this is the Medicine Hall, huh?" Hei Long murmured to himself as he stepped forward. His eyes rose to take in the large, pristine building nestled under the shadow of the mountain’s slope. White stone walls, tall wooden pillars, and a faint herbal aroma wafting through the air—it looked just as refined and important as one would expect for a place that handled the health of an entire sect. Disciples and elders came and went through the grand double doors, each carrying herbs, scrolls, or freshly-brewed pills. Hei Long took a breath and moved forward—but barely a few steps in, he found himself greeted by a classic scene straight out of every trash-tier cultivation novel. ’Ah, there it is,’ he thought dryly: ’Right on schedule.’ A small crowd had gathered near the herb counter, surrounding a group of four men mid-argument. Two flanked the third, puffing their chests, looking down on someone with all the entitlement of young masters. In the middle stood none other than Song Huayuan—an arrogant inner disciple whose cronies had once tried to intimidate Hei Long. And the person they were currently harassing? Of course... Lin Fan stood, clearly injured—chest still bandaged from the earlier beatdown, one arm cradling his ribs, his breathing shallow. But his eyes burned with the stubborn defiance. "Roll!" one of Song Huayuan’s lackeys barked, arms crossed tightly over his chest: "That Spirit Grass belongs to Brother Huayuan!" Lin Fan scoffed and glared, his pride refusing to back down: "Me roll? Who do you think you’re talking to? That herb isn’t even paid for! How does he own it?" "Tch—smart mouth," the second lackey growled, rolling up his sleeves: "Then maybe I’ll knock the teeth right out of it!" He stepped forward, arm cocked, ready to drive a fist into Lin Fan’s already cracked ribs. But before the strike could land— A calm figure stepped between them. "Gentlemen," Hei Long said smoothly, his hands behind his back, "shall we all calm down?" Instantly, the atmosphere shifted. All eyes turned to him. Whispers broke out across the room like wildfire. "Isn’t that... the Saint?" "He’s getting involved?" "So righteous!" "He’s stopping a fight! How noble!" Even the elder behind the counter paused in their inventory check to watch. The two lackeys froze in place, tension radiating off their clenched fists. Song Huayuan narrowed his eyes, lips curling slightly. "Well, well," he said, voice heavy with false warmth, "if it isn’t Brother Hei Long. What brings you to the Medicine Hall?" Hei Long gave a small, polite smile: "Merely came for a few ingredients. But I happened upon this... lively talk." He turned briefly to Lin Fan, then to the Spirit Grass sitting untouched on the table. "As I understand it, this herb hasn’t been purchased yet, correct?" Lin Fan nodded quickly, still clutching his side: "Exactly! It was just sitting there. I reached for it, and these clowns jumped me." Song Huayuan clicked his tongue: "How petty. Brother Hei Long, surely you know the rules. Even if unpaid for, such a rare Spirit Grass—first picked, first served. This idiot had no right to even look at it if I had my eye on it." Hei Long raised an eyebrow, tone still calm: "And yet, the sect rules clearly state that until an item is exchanged for spirit stones, it belongs to the hall, and is fair game for any disciple." The crowd gasped slightly. One of the lackeys opened his mouth to argue—then closed it again. Song Huayuan’s smile stiffened: "You would stand on his side?" "I stand on the sect’s rules," Hei Long replied smoothly, "and more importantly, I stand on the side that isn’t trying to assault an injured junior right inside the Medicine Hall." The elder behind the counter cleared their throat: "He is correct. This is not a sparring ground. Anyone causing trouble here can be punished, regardless of status." Song Huayuan gave a sharp glare to his subordinates. With a reluctant grunt, he stepped back. "Let’s go." The trio turned and stalked off, pushing past the crowd with sour expressions. Lin Fan exhaled sharply, then scoffed. "Tch... I had it handled. You just got in the way." Hei Long’s smile sharpened. "Sure. You’d be a lot more convincing if you weren’t getting tossed around like a sack of potatoes." Lin Fan opened his mouth to argue... then coughed instead, holding his ribs: "Fuck you!" Lin Fan turned on his heel and strode out, shoulders stiff and face flushed with humiliation. Defeated in this encounter, he decided it was best to retreat and return later—when he could save whatever remained of his pride. Hei Long watched him leave, a slow, satisfied smirk spreading across his lips. ’Perfect,’ he thought quietly. Now, with Lin Fan redirected elsewhere... The Ancient Golden Pill would be his—undisturbed, untouched, and entirely within his grasp. No one stood in his way.