*—I wonder if the Orthopedic Surgeon buff combined with internal martial arts will produce some miraculous results. Well, no harm in testing it out on her silly senior sister first.*
Ren Yuanhao shook out his hands. Back when he used to watch wuxia dramas as a kid, he’d often see heroes with broken arms reset their own fractures without any help—just gripping their own hands and yanking like madmen, accompanied by exaggerated sound effects and over-the-top acting. Those scenes had haunted his childhood nightmares.
Now, it was time for *this* "Master Huang" to take the stage.
He walked slowly to Zhixuan’s side, gently lifting her hand. Her wrist felt boneless, like sun-scorched straw drooping limply under the midday heat. A flicker of pain occasionally crossed her face, her delicate nose wrinkling slightly—as if even in unconsciousness, she could still feel the agony in her wrist.
"Honestly, I thought your two senior sisters were the ones who did this to you."
Ren Yuanhao held Zhixuan’s smooth palm with his left hand while his right gripped just below her wrist. Channeling his qi, his vision suddenly took on an X-ray-like clarity—every misaligned bone, displaced tendon, and torn ligament became starkly visible.
Ying Caiwei had been bustling back and forth, wiping her father’s feverish brow and soaking towels in the cold spring water to ease his suffering.
"So that’s it… My senior sisters must have been trying to carry me back safely while I was unconscious—"
She cut herself off, the icy reprimand of her eldest senior sister still ringing in her ears.
"Carry you back? From where?" Ren Yuanhao naturally picked up on the bitterness in her voice. His hands were already suffused with refined qi, sharp as surgical blades.
Just then, the mountain wind grew fiercer. The dappled sunlight was slowly devoured by gathering storm clouds, plunging the surroundings into gloom. Water droplets shattered against the rocks, and a chilling aura swept through the air as a blinding bolt of lightning split the sky like a sword!
**BOOM!**
Thunder crashed down from the darkened heavens, deafening. The small pavilion creaked like fragile grass under the storm’s fury.
Ying Caiwei shuddered. The withered grass swayed wildly under the oppressive darkness. She hadn’t planned to speak of her sect’s cruelty, but the sudden shift in the heavens seemed to mirror the turmoil in her heart. With a long sigh, she finally relented.
Her words spilled out between sobs, delicate as pear blossoms weighed down by rain. Her sorrowful tale twisted like the mournful wind, leaving Ren Yuanhao’s chest aching.
"Hmph. I thought cultivators were supposed to be transcendent, detached from worldly affairs. Who knew they could be so heartless? A place like that isn’t worth going back to."
Ren Yuanhao’s internal energy surged as his hands worked over Zhixuan’s wrist—pressing, pulling, kneading, adjusting. In less than five minutes, her wrist was already moving freely under his guidance!
"Incredible!"
Ying Caiwei had never seen such divine skill.
In her mind, her master’s miraculous elixirs had always been the pinnacle of healing. Had she not witnessed it herself, she’d never believe someone could reset a fractured wrist with mere manipulation!
"It’s nothing. Your senior sister’s injury was fresh. Your father’s condition is far more serious." Ren Yuanhao withdrew his qi, taking a deep breath. The storm clouds churned above like galloping steeds—a downpour was imminent.
He turned back to Ying Caiwei with a reassuring smile. "But don’t worry. I *will* heal your father. Look at this huge estate of yours—you can’t possibly manage it all alone, can you?"
His tone carried a natural calmness. Ying Caiwei smiled faintly, shy but not distant, clutching a towel as she tiptoed over to gently wipe his face.
Up close, Ren Yuanhao realized her skin was the most flawless he’d ever seen—smooth as polished jade, without a single blemish. If not for the dim light, he might’ve even glimpsed the capillaries beneath. The wind teased her cheeks, making her supple skin tremble like ripples on a lake.
"Alright, your senior sister should be fine now. Next—your father."
Guided by her, Ren Yuanhao entered the house. Ying Caiwei lit two candles as the howling wind outside grew fiercer. She shut the door and hurried to her father’s side.
"Who the hell did this? So ruthless..."
Ren Yuanhao’s enhanced vision revealed a gruesome sight. Any ordinary man would’ve died long ago from such injuries.
The man’s shoulder joints were severely dislocated. Deep claw marks gouged into his biceps and triceps, his arms swollen like bloated pythons, the skin marred by spiraling blood patterns. His wrists were misaligned, congealed black blood trapped beneath.
Ren Yuanhao forced his expression neutral to avoid alarming Ying Caiwei, then shifted his focus to the man’s legs—only to pale further.
Though somewhat naive, Ying Caiwei could read the grim truth in his face.
"Big Brother… my father, is he—?"
"His arms are manageable. But his legs… are in bad shape."
Ren Yuanhao exhaled sharply, scanning the man again like a medical imaging device.
His ankles and knees were twisted—some bones even shattered. Without truly miraculous medicine, full recovery was impossible. Even with his skills, there was only so much he could do.
"Is there… no hope, Big Brother?" Ying Caiwei’s eyes brimmed with desperate hope as she stared at him.
That pure gaze made Ren Yuanhao refuse to disappoint her. He even considered storming her sect himself—tearing the place apart if necessary—to find the bone-mending elixirs they surely hoarded.
"Nonsense. Your father’s condition is tricky, but not hopeless."
Channeling qi into his hands, Ren Yuanhao began the intricate work of realigning the man’s upper body. But with injuries this old, mere bone-setting wouldn’t suffice. It was like the goddess Nüwa sculpting humans from clay—without breathing life into them, they remained lifeless. What this man needed now was *true* spiritual medicine.