"In a little while, go and spread the word: Medicine King Zhao on our side has hung up his shingle and is seeing patients, specializing in stubborn and baffling ailments!" said Zhao Qibing. "Of course, you should also let it slip that Medicine King Zhao is the private physician of a hidden family..."

"Right, Young Master Bing, I know that well enough!" Li Cihua nodded. Zhao Qibing's money-making scheme was a good one, and there was no danger in it, either.

"Now tell me about that orphanage business. What is it — some kind of trouble?" Zhao Qibing asked.

"It's like this. Last time we went there, wasn't that old director a Yellow Rank expert? I was thinking we could have the Medicine King put in an appearance and give the old director a scare, make them hand the orphanage's land over to us..." said Li Cihua.

"Hmm... no hurry on that. First get the business of Medicine King Zhao seeing patients properly underway — that's money we'll see back right away, whereas tearing down the orphanage will take a certain amount of time!" said Zhao Qibing.

"All right." Li Cihua nodded and went out to spread the word.

What Zhen Dazhou had asked Zou Tiandi to look into was in fact those miracle doctors who served only the wealthy. He felt that ordinary physicians could no longer cure Zhen Yingjun's illness; only such miracle workers could.

Heaven rewards the diligent. Zhen Dazhou had not expected word to come so quickly: the Zhao family's private physician had actually hung up his shingle and begun seeing patients!

As one of the notables of Donghai City, Zhen Dazhou naturally knew a thing or two about the hidden Zhao family that held sway there. A man like him still had no chance of coming into contact with the Zhao family, but he was well aware that the Zhao family was a formidable presence indeed!

Hearing that the Zhao family's private physician had opened his practice, he hurriedly sent Zhen Yingjun over. In his view, the Zhao family's private physician must be far superior to any of those doctors outside.

And so Zhen Yingjun became the Medicine King's first patient.

"What seems to be the trouble?" The Medicine King glanced at Zhen Yingjun — mouth askew, eyes slanted, legs cramping — and, feigning ignorance, asked mildly.

"My son, Zhen Yingjun — somehow he was struck by evil and turned into this..." Zhen Dazhou thought there was no need to recount how the boy had fallen ill; it would only add to the mockery. Better to state the condition outright.

"What's your son's name? Zhen Yingjun? Ha, he's certainly 'handsome and talented'!" At the sight of Zhen Yingjun's present state, Zhao Qibing could not help cackling. Where was there the slightest thing about him that had anything to do with being handsome?

Zhen Dazhou knew Zhao Qibing, knew he was a famous young gentleman of Donghai City, and had vaguely heard of his hidden-family background. So when he saw the Medicine King at Zhao Qibing's side, he had no doubts; he trusted the Medicine King completely, and that was why he sincerely let him treat the boy.

Seeing Zhao Qibing laugh, he dared not take offense, only smiled bitterly: "The boy used to look rather spirited, but now he can't be seen in public at all. The moment anyone hears his name, they laugh just as Young Master Bing did!"

Zhao Qibing had laughed before he could stop himself, but once he had laughed he rather regretted it — he meant to swindle money out of Zhen Dazhou, so how could he go and anger the man? Yet hearing Zhen Dazhou say this, Zhao Qibing felt relieved. He thought: this Zhen Dazhou is fairly sharp, knows when to advance and when to yield! So he said: "Medicine King, why don't you take a look at him?"

The Medicine King nodded and glanced at Zhen Yingjun. A brief examination was enough for him to understand the ailment. What Wei Zhao had done was simple enough: he had merely used true qi to seal several of Zhen Yingjun's meridians and acupoints. Even without treatment, it would clear up on its own in ten years or so.

Of course, the Medicine King could not say such things aloud.

"It can be cured, but it is very complicated!" the Medicine King said to Zhen Dazhou, putting on an air of profundity.

"Master Medicine King, I beg you — I implore you to cure my son. So long as Yingjun can be cured, name whatever conditions you wish, and I will do everything in my power!" Hearing that the Medicine King could cure him, Zhen Dazhou was overjoyed. He had seen many doctors, and all of them had been at their wits' end.

"Zhen Yingjun's condition is in fact not an illness, nor is it possession by evil — someone has tampered with him," the Medicine King said mildly. "This is no ordinary case of stroke aftereffects! Though it looks similar, in truth the two are worlds apart!"

Hearing this, Zhen Dazhou could not help nodding along. So someone had tampered with him? No wonder the ordinary hospitals had been helpless!

"Ah! Someone tampered with me?" Zhen Yingjun was startled. It suddenly came to him that the man called Wei Zhao had seemed to pat him a few times, and afterward he had fallen ill! Could that have been the moment the man struck? He could not help exclaiming: "That's it! It must have been Wei Zhao who did it! Dad, I've got it!"

"Wei Zhao?" On hearing the name, the Medicine King put on a show of surprise. "What did you say? Wei Zhao was the one who tampered with you?"

"Yes! Why do you ask?" Zhen Yingjun was taken aback.

"Medicine King, do you know this man called Wei Zhao?" Zhen Dazhou had never considered that his son might have been tampered with, for it sounded rather fantastic, and so when the boy described what had happened, Zhen Dazhou had paid it no mind. But now the Medicine King himself had said the boy was tampered with, and the man his son suspected was actually known to the Medicine King as well. He could not resist asking.

"Of course I know him!" The Medicine King nodded. "This Wei Zhao is a skilled physician to begin with — good at saving lives, but just as good at ruining them. How could I not know him?"

"Ah! Damn him — so it was Wei Zhao who did it! I'll kill him!" Now that he knew the truth, Zhen Yingjun was furious, stamping and raging.

Watching from the side, Zhao Qibing only sneered. You'll kill him? Who do you think you are? I've wanted Wei Zhao dead for ages, and what came of it? My leg is broken, Uncle Zhu is bedridden, my building collapsed, I paid out compensation — and Wei Zhao is still hopping about as lively as ever!

But Zhao Qibing said nothing. He would not mind the Zhen father and son going to make more trouble for Wei Zhao; even if they could not kill him, it would be good to give Wei Zhao some grief.

Zhen Dazhou cleared his throat and shot his son a glare. He thought: if you want revenge, wait until you're well again! Can't you tell what matters more? Having silenced the boy, Zhen Dazhou turned to the Medicine King: "Medicine King, between you and this Wei Zhao, which of you is the more formidable?"

"Hmph. The ailments he creates, I can remedy. You tell me which of us is the more formidable?" The Medicine King did not answer directly, but spoke in a way meant to mislead.

"Of course it is you, Medicine King!" Zhen Dazhou did not think otherwise; he took the Medicine King's roundabout answer for modesty. He said hurriedly: "Then can you treat my son?"

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