CHAPTER 115: PLEASURE HEALER [2]

Mo Han stepped into the Healing Tower of the Eternal Night Mansion. The air inside smelled faintly of crushed herbs and burned incense, heavy with the weight of countless attempts to treat wounds, diseases, and damaged meridians.

At the counter sat a plump, middle-aged woman in plain servant’s robes—her face stern, her eyes sharp. She looked Mo Han up and down before glancing at the wooden token in his hand.

"You’re here for the Healing Division?" she asked flatly.

Mo Han nodded and placed the token before her.

She studied the carved seal, then her eyes softened a little. "Good. Not many of your type come here. Most disciples only want to flaunt their techniques before the rich, or save their aura for competitions. The Healing Tower? They rarely touch it. The common folk who come here don’t pay enough, so the disciples ignore them. It has been days since we had a proper healer attend the common lines."

From behind her, another younger servant woman came bustling forward, whispering into her ear, but loud enough that Mo Han could hear.

"Senior Sister Yan, be careful. This one only joined the Healing Division yesterday. I heard Elder Park herself punished him in front of everyone. How can someone like this treat others? Better not to trust him—send him away now before he causes trouble."

The plump senior servant, Yan, furrowed her brows and stared at Mo Han again, her eyes darting between him and the eager crowd waiting in the main hall.

Mo Han did not shrink back. Instead, he stepped forward, his voice clear and calm.

"I won’t hide the truth. I am indeed new to this Healing Division. To be honest, I have never treated a single person before. But..." He paused, and his gaze swept the hall, meeting the eyes of peasants, laborers, and injured cultivators waiting in line. "But knowledge does not lie. I have studied countless manuals, and I walk the path of a Pleasure Healer. My methods are painless, my techniques focus on restoring balance, and my goal is simple—your suffering should end the moment you step into my care."

A ripple of murmurs passed through the crowd.

"Pleasure Healer? What’s that supposed to mean?" one man whispered.

"Sounds like some shameless dual cultivation trick..." another muttered.

"Never heard of it before. New methods are always risky."

Mo Han lifted his hands in a respectful clasp. "I will not force any of you. Whether you trust me or not is your decision. I will remain here until evening. If you wish for my help, come. If not, my door will remain open all the same."

With that, he turned and walked into the private treatment room Senior Yan had assigned to him. He shut the wooden door gently, leaving the crowd to whisper and wonder.

The line of people outside stood still. Not a single person moved forward.

Some chuckled nervously.

"Hah, a new boy pretending to be a healer. He’ll kill someone by mistake."

"Pleasure healer... probably just a scam. Better wait for the regular disciples tomorrow."

An old farmer leaned on his cane and muttered, "If he’s new, why risk my life? I’ll keep my pain."

Minutes dragged into an hour. No one entered Mo Han’s room.

Inside, however, Mo Han showed no sign of impatience. He arranged his silver spiritual needles neatly in rows of three, aligned the jade bowls, and crushed herbs with steady precision. His movements were calm, methodical—like a professional who had done this for years. He even traced simple aura formations on slips of parchment, preparing them as supplementary talismans to stabilize weak constitutions.

Still, the door remained closed.

The younger servant from earlier smirked from the hall. "See? No one dares go in. He’ll sit there all day and leave humiliated."

But Senior Yan didn’t reply. She stared at the closed door, something unreadable in her eyes.

Meanwhile, the news spread like wildfire through the Healing Division.

By the time the sun moved high into the sky, disciples loyal to Elder Park were already whispering among themselves.

"That Mo Han? Daring to call himself a healer after one day?"

"Hah! Elder Park gave him ten manuals just yesterday to crush him. He still dares to show off in the Healing Tower?"

"Let’s go watch. Maybe he’ll embarrass himself so badly, Elder Park won’t even need to cast him out—we’ll laugh him away ourselves."

A group of young disciples, clad in bright azure robes, made their way to the Healing Tower, smirks plastered on their faces. They entered noisily, drawing the attention of everyone waiting.

The younger servant girl perked up immediately. "Oh good, you’ve come. That new one has been sitting there pretending all day. Not a single patient dares go in."

The disciples laughed. "Of course not. Who would? A new dog thinking he can treat wounds? He’ll be lucky not to kill his first patient."

Their voices carried loudly, deliberately, making the commoners outside nervous.

"Should we even try?" a woman whispered to her husband. "What if he kills me by mistake?"

"Best not risk it," the man replied.

The disciples sneered, leaning against the walls, waiting for Mo Han to walk out humiliated.

-

Inside, Mo Han quietly finished grinding a batch of herbs into fine powder. He heard the mocking outside but didn’t let it disturb him. His expression remained calm, even serene, as though none of it touched him.

The sun dipped lower. Still, not a soul entered.

And then—just as some of the disciples started to leave in boredom—a faint rustling was heard at the entrance.

A middle-aged woman in tattered clothes, her hair messy, her face pale, shuffled inside. Her hands trembled as she clutched at her chest. Her robe was patched with different cloth pieces, clearly worn from years of poverty.

The moment she entered, murmurs erupted outside.

"Is she mad? Trusting a newcomer?"

"She must be desperate. Maybe she has no other choice."

The woman looked nervous, her voice quivering as she spoke to Mo Han. "S-sir... they say you are a healer. I... I cannot pay much. But my throat burns every night. I cough blood sometimes. I... I cannot bear it anymore. If you can help me... please."

Outside, all eyes widened. They crowded near the door, straining to hear.

The young disciples snickered. "Perfect. His first patient will die in his hands. We’ll get to see a good show today."

Mo Han did not respond with arrogance. He looked at the woman gently, gestured for her to sit on the padded chair, and poured her a cup of warm herbal tea from the pot he had already prepared.

"Calm yourself," he said softly. "Your life is not in danger today."

The woman’s eyes brimmed with tears as she sat down, hope and fear tangled in her chest.

Outside, the entire hall held its breath. Everyone was waiting to see what would happen—would the new healer kill his first patient, or... could he really perform a miracle?

-

Tq guys!