The line moved slowly into the Healing Tower, one by one, faces worn with fatigue and bodies bent under the weight of long illnesses. Mo Han sat at the center of his chamber, the polished silver needles glinting faintly under the soft lamplight.

An old man with trembling hands and clouded eyes was led inside by his granddaughter. His voice was cracked with age. "Healer… I cannot walk without pain. My legs have been stiff for twenty years."

Mo Han nodded calmly, gesturing for him to lie on the cushioned stone bed. The granddaughter helped him down, tears already shining in her eyes as she whispered, "Please help my grandfather."

Mo Han examined the man's ankles, then pressed lightly on the meridian point along his thigh. The old man hissed in pain, but Mo Han only said, "Endure."

With a flick of his wrist, he drove a silver needle into the Baihui point at the crown of the old man's head, then followed with a sequence along his spine and calves. Aura flowed steadily through his fingers, carrying the Pleasure Qi he had mastered.

"Ahh… ahh—!" The old man's voice cracked into a strange mixture of groan and laugh as the pain melted away. His stiff legs twitched, then kicked once. For the first time in two decades, sensation flowed like a rushing river.

Gasps sounded outside the door when the granddaughter shrieked in joy. "He's moving! His legs—he can move them!"

The old man sat up, trembling, then slowly pushed himself off the bed. He took two shaky steps—then three, then four—until he was standing on his own. Tears poured from his wrinkled eyes. "For twenty years, I was a cripple… and now…" He clasped Mo Han's hands and bowed deeply. "You are no healer—you are a saint."

Mo Han said nothing, only wrote a prescription for the morning dew lotus tea to strengthen the recovery and handed it to the granddaughter.

By the time they left, the air outside was electric. More old ones pushed forward—the lame, the blind, the ones whose bodies had been plagued by illness for decades. One by one, Mo Han treated them. Each session was quick, precise, and filled with quiet authority.

An old woman who hadn't tasted food for months due to stomach pains left clutching her belly in shock, whispering, "It doesn't hurt anymore… it doesn't hurt!"

A man who had lost his voice for five years let out a trembling shout, then began to laugh and cry in the same breath.

By midday, the name of Mo Han was no longer whispered as "Pleasure Healer." It was now, "Divine Hands."

-

While Mo Han worked inside, a new disturbance stirred outside the Healing Tower. A group of richly dressed servants arrived, their robes embroidered with the golden crane sigil of the Bai Clan. The crowd hushed as soon as they saw them approach.

Everyone knew—the Bai Clan was one of the four ruling families of Golden Silk City. Their influence stretched over trade, law, and even the Eternal Night Mansion itself. When a Bai spoke, the city listened.

The lead servant, a sharp-eyed woman in blue, approached the Senior Servant Lady of the Healing Tower. Bowing slightly, she spoke with careful authority. "Our young mistress, Lady Bai Gu, has heard of the divine healer who cures with a touch. She wishes for a personal visit. For his time, we offer this."

She placed a pouch heavy with clinking stones onto the table. The Senior Servant Lady's eyes widened when she peeked inside. The shimmer of pure spirit stones—no less than one thousand.

The crowd buzzed in shock. A thousand stones just for a single visit?

The Senior Servant Lady's throat tightened. Even as someone who worked under the Eternal Night Mansion, she knew the weight of refusing such an offer. The Bai Clan could break the wings of any servant or disciple if angered. She swallowed and said carefully, "I will… inform the healer."

-

Inside, Mo Han had just finished treating another old man when the Senior Servant Lady slipped in, her steps uncertain.

"Young Master Mo Han," she said softly, "the Bai Clan has sent an invitation. Lady Bai Gu requests your presence in her chambers for a personal treatment. They are offering one thousand stones."

Mo Han paused, setting the needle back on the tray. His eyes narrowed slightly, then he leaned back on the chair. "One thousand?"

The lady nodded quickly. "Yes. It is a great honor. Refusing may cause unnecessary trouble… Perhaps you should—"

But before she could finish, Mo Han raised a hand. His voice was calm but carried iron. "I do not dance for coin, no matter whose purse it comes from."

The lady stiffened, sweat beading at her neck. "But the Bai Clan…"

Mo Han's gaze turned cold. "If Lady Bai Gu truly desires my time, then the price is ten thousand spirit stones. That is my rate for leaving this Tower for a private visit."

Her jaw dropped. "Ten… ten thousand?"

"Yes." He said it without hesitation, as though ten thousand was as light as a feather. "And even then, I will go only if it suits me. Today, it does not. Tell them I have a headache."

The Senior Servant Lady almost dropped the pouch in her hands. "Mo Han, do you understand what you're saying? This is the Bai Clan!"

Mo Han stood, gathering his needles and herbs into his storage ring. His expression was flat, unshaken. "The Bai Clan can send a hundred servants with a thousand stones each. My answer will not change. Healing is not a performance to be bought at whim. They can come here tomorrow, like everyone else."

–

When the servants of Bai Gu heard his reply, their faces darkened.

The lead servant clenched her jaw, glaring at the Senior Servant Lady as though she were the one responsible. "Is this how the Eternal Night Mansion treats the Bai Clan? Very well. We will deliver his words to our mistress. Let him not regret this arrogance."

The servants turned sharply and left, their robes sweeping behind them like storm clouds.

The crowd outside murmured with disbelief. "He rejected the Bai Clan?"

"Ten thousand stones for a visit… who dares to say such a thing?"

"Either he is mad… or his confidence is truly that great."

Inside, Mo Han simply sat back down, closing his eyes for a brief moment of meditation. The fatigue of the day pressed down on him, but his heart was calm.

He knew what he had done. He had drawn a line. And in this city of seduction, wealth, and power, only those who drew lines boldly could stand tall.

-

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