Chapter Twenty-Two: A Great Loss

“Damn it, don’t they know the young master is busy?”
Just as he was about to grab his gun, mount his horse, and ride out in a glorious charge, someone reached out to stop him. The agony of being interrupted at such a moment was indescribable. That was exactly how Jiang Tao felt now; when he opened his mouth, there was nothing pleasant to say.
“Young Master Jiang, we’ve found out who that kid is,” a hoarse voice continued from outside the door.
“What?”
Startled, Jiang Tao climbed off a naked woman, motioned for the others to leave, and quickly dressed himself. For someone as vindictive as Jiang Tao, venting his anger on women was no longer enough. Only by teaching that kid a lesson could he soothe the hatred festering in his heart.
Once he was properly dressed, he said in a low voice, “Come in.”
The door creaked open, and Tong Yu entered, bowing respectfully. He handed Jiang Tao, who was sitting on the sofa, a few documents before standing quietly to the side.
Jiang Tao picked up the documents and leafed through them quickly. As the pages rustled, his expression changed like a chameleon’s. When he finished, he threw the folder violently to the floor and shot to his feet, unleashing a torrent of curses at Tong Yu. “Damn it, is this all you found?”
The documents contained little more than Lin Yang’s participation in medical competitions, some information about Thirteen Blades Hospital, and Lin Yang’s connections with some influential people in Jinhai City—Tang Yixue, Guo Xiaoxiao, the Tiger, and so on. But none of this was what Jiang Tao really wanted.
Determined, Jiang Tao stood up and barked coldly, “I don’t care where that kid came from—I want him dead. Go, spend some money, hire a few cutters to deal with him. Make it quick and clean. If necessary...” As he spoke, Jiang Tao made a gun-firing gesture at Tong Yu, who had served him for years and understood immediately. But unless it was absolutely necessary, Tong Yu preferred not to use such illegal means—they were far too risky.

Rather than going straight home, Lin Yang made a stop at the supermarket downstairs. His frying pan had met its end the night before and was now completely unusable, but he still planned to experiment with alchemy tonight, so he had no choice but to buy a new one.
To be safe, he bought three at once—just in case.

It was past six in the evening when he finally returned home. The sky was already shrouded in twilight. As he passed the corridor, he noticed that Mrs. Wang’s door was closed, which instantly put him in a better mood. He calculated whether he should first attempt to refine the Sun-Yang Pill—after all, even if he blew up the pan again, he didn’t have to worry about her suddenly knocking on his door.
Inside, he wasted no time. Lin Yang gathered his frying pan, induction cooker, and other alchemy tools, steadied his nerves, and began his work with utmost care, just as he had the previous night. He was especially fearful of any cold drafts or accidents that might trigger another spectacular explosion and bring the wrath of his neighbors upon him. To be extra cautious, he sealed the doors and windows so tightly that not even a mosquito could get in.
He worked with his usual seriousness, adding piece after piece of Fire Ganoderma to the pan as if it cost nothing. Luck seemed to be on his side tonight; his first attempt was a resounding success. Though the color of the result was less than attractive, at least he’d managed to produce something. Elated, Lin Yang let out a wolfish howl, as if he’d just taken a shot of pure adrenaline.
Unfortunately, Mrs. Wang heard him just as she was returning home with Wu Qianqian. If there was one thing she was known for, it was her ears—sharp and sensitive as a mouse’s. People always say you can’t cross women in menopause, and Mrs. Wang was no exception. Her good mood was shattered by Lin Yang’s howl. It was almost impossible not to get angry.
Bang, bang, bang—she hammered on Lin Yang’s door with practiced impatience.
“I’m doomed,” Lin Yang muttered to himself, fully aware of his predicament and already thinking up lies to tell the ever-meddlesome Mrs. Wang.
He hurriedly stashed his alchemy tools and, shuffling in his slippers, went to open the door.
Standing at his threshold was Mrs. Wang, her face dark with displeasure. Lin Yang put on a cheeky grin and greeted her, “Hello, Aunt Wang! Did you just take Qianqian to school?” There was nothing in her hands, and given the hour and her age, she surely wasn’t out on a date. Plus, it was Sunday night, so it made sense to guess she’d taken her granddaughter to school.
“Cut the small talk. What were you doing in there, yelling like that? Anyone would think someone’s cat or dog had gone mad. I swear, you’re the most troublesome neighbor I’ve ever had.” Mrs. Wang’s sense of humor was sharp as ever. As his neighbor, it was impossible for her to avoid him—especially since Lin Yang’s constant explosions and earthquakes made her apartment feel like the epicenter of a natural disaster. She couldn’t keep her distance even if she wanted to.
“Nothing, just clearing my throat. I’ve been a little under the weather lately,” Lin Yang replied without batting an eye. If telling lies was an art, he was a master. The night was cool and crisp, a light rain had fallen just the evening before, and here he was claiming to be “overheated.” Mrs. Wang, being an experienced woman, immediately suspected something else.
Seeing that he refused to confess, Mrs. Wang could only sigh inwardly at her misfortune in having such a neighbor. As long as he didn’t corrupt her precious granddaughter, though, she saw no reason to call the property management to have him evicted.
Once Mrs. Wang the Meddler was gone, Lin Yang promptly locked the door, leaned against it, and laughed so hard his belly ached. He nearly burst into tears. Lying and acting were skills, and he practiced on her whenever he could—preparing himself for a future filled with all sorts of people.

After calming down, he returned to his bedroom, dragged the frying pan from under the bed—his secret hiding place for illicit goods—and examined the reddish, slightly scorched medicine powder at the bottom. His face lit up with wild, almost manic glee.
He had done it. After a few failed attempts, he’d finally managed to refine the Sun-Yang Pill.
Without hesitation, he carefully scooped the powder into a jade container he’d prepared in advance. Jade, after all, was the best vessel for preserving medicinal properties.
There wasn’t much—barely a third of the container. Not bothering to clean up, Lin Yang couldn’t wait. He sat cross-legged, opened his mouth, and swallowed a large portion of the freshly made Sun-Yang Powder—which, truth be told, bore little resemblance to a pill, but the name would have to do. The reason for his haste was simple: this medicine could speed up the accumulation of true energy, in turn accelerating his practice of the Thirteen Blades of Heavenly Spirit.
Lin Yang was obsessed with mastering the next moves of the Thirteen Blades—almost to the point of madness.
After about half an hour, his face was a mix of joy and frustration. The cultivation of the Thirteen Blades was proving far more difficult than he had imagined. After consuming half a batch of medicine worth ten thousand yuan, he had only managed to condense a wisp of true energy, no thicker than a strand of hair—a ridiculous waste.
He’d suffered a huge loss. Lin Yang cursed silently, wondering if it was worth it to keep refining such expensive, minimally effective pills.
The Golden Silkworm Powder, by contrast, was far more useful—a miraculous healing medicine that could benefit the beauty-obsessed and even all of humanity.
His excitement extinguished, Lin Yang flopped onto his bed in disappointment and fell into a deep sleep.