Six days had passed since the Tich Tam Clinic first opened its doors.
An incessant drizzle fell over Van Trach. The rain was fine, like a watery dust that mingled with the mountain mists to drape the East Street in a somber, blurred veil. Runoff trickled through the muddy ruts of the road, carrying refuse and the stagnant stench of ancient wooden houses.
Inside the apothecary, the humidity made everyone's old wounds itch with a restless irritability. Yet, the Tich Tam Clinic was far from deserted. On the contrary, a steady stream of people—mostly women, children, and the elderly—huddled beneath a makeshift tarp outside, waiting their turn.
The reputation of the "Blind Physician Lam" had spread faster than a contagion. It wasn't because of any miraculous "god-hand" techniques, but rather for two simple reasons: he could treat common ailments that other healers ignored, and he took no coin from the poor.
Lam Tich sat behind the counter, faced by an elderly man suffering from joint pain. He used his left hand (his right remained bound, though the infection had receded thanks to proper care) to meticulously palpate the old man's wrists and elbows, asking detailed questions about the nature of the pain and how it reacted to the weather.
"This is not a 'cold-vapor invasion' of the joints as other healers might say," Lam Tich murmured after a thorough examination. "This is degeneration. Your joints have simply worn down with age. Taking 'wind-and-cold' expelling medicine will only make it worse."
The old man looked bewildered. "Then... what can be done, Physician?"
"Ease the pain with warm compresses, gentle movement, and foods rich in calcium—that is, bone-nourishing nutrients," Lam Tich said, listing common ingredients like bone broth and crushed eggshells. "And here, take this salve made from Mugwort and Frankincense; it will provide topical relief."
The old man left in deep gratitude, leaving behind a small basket of eggs—the only thing he had to offer as payment.
[ Collected Void Energy from "Pure Trust": +3 points ]
[ Void Energy: 42/100 ]
The energy accumulated over the past few days came from small, humble sources like this. It wasn't enough for major "borrowings" from the System, but it sufficed to keep Lam Tich's mind sharp and the fever at bay.
Van Khue, playing the role of the "grandson" dispensing herbs, watched everything with an analytical eye. He realized something unsettling: Lam Tich was genuinely skilled. It wasn't a mystical brilliance, but a staggering capacity for observation, deduction, and memory. He remembered the medical history of every patient, the exact location of every herb in the shop, and most notably, every scrap of trivial gossip a patient might let slip while complaining of their aches.
"Dai Hung," Van Khue whispered to the giant who was grinding herbs in the corner. "Do you see? Yesterday, the porridge vendor mentioned her son saw strange tracks in the woods. Today, the woodcutter spoke of increased patrols at the West Gate. The Great One is stitching these fragments together."
Dai Hung nodded, his face full of unwavering reverence. "The Great One's calculations are divine, of course."
"It's not divinity," Van Khue shook his head. "It's intellect. A kind of intelligence that requires no cultivation, no Divinity. And it is more terrifying than I imagined."
At noon, when the crowd of patients thinned, a figure clad in a drenched straw cloak and hat stepped inside. It wasn't a patient. It was one of the other escaped prisoners, assigned by Lam Tich to act as eyes and ears throughout the town.
"Great One," the man whispered, his face pale beneath his hat. "Something is wrong. At the main gate, a new bounty has been posted by the Lam Clan. The reward has doubled. And... there is a strange detail."
Lam Tich raised his head, his sightless eyes turning toward the voice. "Continue."
"In the description, besides mentioning a 'blind cripple' as the primary target, it says... the body of the jailer, Ly Buu, has vanished from the dungeon. They suspect the escapees took the corpse for dark rituals." The prisoner's voice trembled. "They are warning that the leader is a 'Tà Tu' (heretical cultivator) specializing in blood sacrifice and necromancy."
The room fell into a heavy silence. The sound of rain outside suddenly felt louder, more frantic.
Van Khue's eyes widened. "The body vanished? But we left it in the cell! Unless..."
He looked at Lam Tich, a horrifying thought flashing through his mind: Did 'That Thing' truly exist? Had it... 'disposed' of Ly Buu?
Dai Hung's face paled, but a spark of fearful worship ignited in his eyes. He believed in the legend of "That Thing" more than anyone.
Lam Tich's expression remained unreadable. In his mind, the pieces clicked into place with blinding speed: The Lam Clan couldn't find Ly Buu's body. They were afraid. They were constructing a narrative even more terrifying than the truth to mask their incompetence and demonize the escapees. This wasn't a threat; it was a golden opportunity.
"Good," he suddenly remarked, a faint, eerie smile touching his lips. "They are helping me perfect the story."
"Great One?" Dai Hung was lost.
"Van Khue, you are clever. Tell me," Lam Tich turned toward him, his voice like a riddle. "Why would a Great Clan like the Lam family fabricate a story about a 'missing corpse' and 'heretical arts'?"
Van Khue narrowed his eyes, his mind churning through clan politics, face-saving tactics, and mob psychology. Then, his eyes lit up. "To hide their own weakness! A group of 'trash' prisoners led by a blind man escaping and killing a jailer in their own dungeon—that is too humiliating, too hard to explain.
But if they turn it into the machinations of a mysterious heretical cultist with a grand, evil purpose... then their failure seems... logical. They might even use this excuse to purge internal rivals or demand more resources from allied sects."
"Precisely," Lam Tich nodded, looking satisfied. "They are handing me the perfect identity to wear.
'The Night Emperor' is no longer just a dungeon legend. He has been 'officially recognized' by the enemy itself."
[ Reliability (Van Khue): 55% - Convinced by intellect, but wary of the level of manipulation ]
"What do we do then?" Dai Hung asked, his fists clenched. "Flee Van Trach?"
"Flee? No," Lam Tich shook his head. "Fleeing is an admission of guilt. Fleeing provides them a trail. Instead, we will show them a piece of the story they want to see—but in a different place, with a different character."
Van Khue understood instantly. "A sacrificial lamb. A 'fake heretic' appears, causes chaos, and is captured or killed. The heat of the bounty will die down, and attention will drift away from Van Trach—away from a harmless, blind physician."
"Exactly," Lam Tich nodded. "We need a puppet. Someone willing to play that role."
"And that person is?" Van Khue asked, though he had already guessed.
Lam Tich was silent for a moment, "looking" toward the back room where the other prisoners were resting. Then he spoke, his voice gentle but brooking no refusal: "Tam Tu."
"That coward?" Dai Hung sneered. "He'll shake like a leaf and betray us the moment he's questioned!"
"No, he is the perfect choice," Lam Tich shook his head, a cold light flickering in his blind eyes.
"Because he is a coward, he is easily controlled. He is already terrified of 'That Thing' to his very marrow. He believes only I can grant him a chance at life. And most importantly, I am not telling him to commit suicide. I am giving him hope."
He turned to Van Khue. "You will draft a script. A mission for Tam Tu: Pose as a panicked fugitive, leave false clues of 'heretical rituals' at a location twenty miles north of Van Trach—Stone Valley, for instance. If he does well and lures the patrols and bounty hunters there, he will be truly free. I will give him some silver and show him a path to cross the border. If he fails and is caught... the diversion is achieved regardless."
It was a ruthless but efficient plan. Tam Tu, in every outcome, was a sacrificial pawn. Van Khue felt a chill run down his spine. This cold calculation, wrapped in the guise of "giving him a chance," was more terrifying than a direct order.
"But... will he believe it?" Van Khue asked.
"I will make him believe," Lam Tich said with absolute confidence. "Because I will show him a 'favor' first. And because his fear of me... is already great enough."
That afternoon, Lam Tich called Tam Tu into the back room. The space was small, furnished only with a wooden bed and simple stools. Lam Tich sat in his chair, a small fabric bundle on the table before him.
"Tam Tu," Lam Tich began, his voice no longer the gentle tone of the physician, but deep and weighted with an invisible gravity. "Do you want to live? To truly live, not just survive in hiding?"
Tam Tu, a gaunt man whose face was perpetually pinched as if about to cry, fell to his knees. "Great... Great One, I do! I want it more than anything!"
"Then I am giving you a chance," Lam Tich said. "One chance. But it is riddled with risk. Do you have the courage?"
Tam Tu hesitated, but looking at the bundle on the table and into Lam Tich's blind eyes—which seemed to see through his very soul—he nodded frantically. "I do! I'll do it! Just show me the way!"
Lam Tich smiled, a smile that made Tam Tu shiver. "Good. In this bundle is some silver, a small map, and a talisman... upon which I have drawn a mark with a drop of my own blood."
He lied; the talisman was merely scribbled paper with black ink.
"It will mask your aura from simple trackers for three days."
Tam Tu's eyes lit up as if grasping a lifesaver. "Thank you, Great One! Thank you!"
"However," Lam Tich interrupted, his voice turning razor-sharp. "You must do one thing for me before you leave. A small task."
He explained the plan: Tam Tu would sneak out of Van Trach tonight, intentionally leaving "clues" along the path. At the valley, he would light a decoy fire, leave some "sacrificial items," and then disappear. After that, he was to follow the map across the border to start a new life.
"It sounds... dangerous," Tam Tu stammered.
"It is dangerous," Lam Tich admitted. "But it is far more dangerous to stay here, waiting for the Lam Clan or bounty hunters to find you. This is the only path to life I can carve for you. Either you trust me, or..." He let the sentence hang in the damp air.
The silence was more threatening than any verbal warning. Tam Tu remembered Ly Buu's death and the rumors of "That Thing." He nodded tremulously. "I... I'll do it! I'll do it!"
[ Reliability (Tam Tu): 95% - Absolute Terror laced with Blind Hope ]
Night fell, and the rain returned. Tam Tu, as planned, slipped out of the Still-Heart Clinic, intentionally snagging a piece of his prison rags on the back fence before vanishing into the wet darkness toward the north.
Two hours later, rumors rippled through the seedy taverns of Van Trach: An escapee! A prisoner! He's heading for Stone Valley!
Greed and the thrill of the hunt ignited. Bounty hunters, vagrants, and even a few greedy patrolmen began preparing for the chase.
Inside the Still-Heart Clinic, Lam Tich sat in the darkness, listening to the town's stirrings through the rain. He was burning 5 points of
Void Energy to maintain a faint "Expanded Perception," monitoring the movements around him.
Then, he "heard" it. Light, cautious footsteps that did not blend into the rowdy crowd pouring out of the taverns. Two people. They stopped at the street corner opposite the shop. Watching. Patient.
Not bounty hunters, Lam Tich thought. Professional patrols. And likely, the one in charge.
He signaled Van Khue, who had just returned after confirming Tam Tu reached the forest edge. "Guests. Back door. Fast."
Van Khue nodded and slipped silently into the shadows of the rear exit.
A moment later, the shop door was pushed open. Two figures in rain-slicked cloaks entered, water dripping from their hats onto the dirt floor. The man in the lead was gaunt and middle-aged, with deep crow's feet and eyes as sharp as daggers—Truong Thiet, the Patrol Chief of Van Trach. The man behind him was younger, his hand perpetually on his hilt.
"Physician Lam," Truong Thiet spoke, his voice neutral—neither friendly nor overtly hostile. "Forgive the late intrusion."
Lam Tich "looked" toward the voice and nodded slightly. "It is no matter. Truong Thiet, I presume? I have heard you suffer from lower back pain due to an old injury. Does the agony plague you often on cold, rainy nights like this?"
Truong Thiet froze, as if he had been physically struck. Information about his old injury was not common knowledge. "Who... who told you that?"
"I didn't need to be told," Lam Tich said, gesturing to the stool opposite him. "Please, sit. When you walked in, your footsteps were uneven; you lean slightly to the right to alleviate pressure on your lumbar spine. Your breathing is slightly shallow when standing straight but stabilizes when you sit. These are the hallmarks of a chronic injury to the 4th or 5th vertebrae, likely from a lethal blow to the back many years ago."
Truong Thiet was utterly blindsided. He had once been a Level 4 Body Tempering cultivator before an ambush damaged his meridians and spine, halting his progress. Lam Tich's diagnosis was almost identical to what the finest physicians had once told him. Such keen observation... could not belong to an ordinary man.
"You... are you truly just a common physician?" Truong Thiet asked, his voice suspicious but laced with a new curiosity.
"I am a blind man," Lam Tich replied calmly. "Because I cannot see, I 'hear' and 'sense' more than most. For a physician, that is an advantage in diagnosis. That is all." He paused, then added a natural offer: "That injury, if treated with correct acupuncture and massage, could have its pain reduced by seventy percent."
Truong Thiet sat down, his gaze complex. The wisdom and intuition of this blind man far exceeded any common healer. But it was for that very reason his suspicion deepened. Why would a man of such talent hide in a place like Van Trach?
"I didn't come here for a check-up," Truong Thiet said bluntly. "The bounty from the Lam Clan. What do you know of it?"
"I hear the patients' whispers," Lam Tich admitted. "A dangerous heretic, using human bones for his arts. It sounds horrific. This small town must be in an uproar."
"And they say the leader... is a blind man."
The room went still. Only the steady drum of rain on the roof and the soft breathing of Dai Hung in the corner shadows remained.
Lam Tich let out a soft, bitter chuckle of self-mockery. "So, the Truong suspects me? A blind man, arm still bandaged, who nearly died of infection days ago? A man sitting here giving charity care to children and the elderly is actually a notorious heretic capable of murdering jailers and stealing corpses from the most secure dungeon in the realm?"
He shook his head. "If I possessed such power, I would have healed these eyes and this arm first, rather than sitting here receiving uninvited guests in the middle of a rainy night."
The words were sardonic yet undeniably logical. Truong Thiet knew it. Lam Tich's physical frailty was real, his wound was real, and his charity work had been witnessed by the entire East Street. Yet, the instincts of a former cultivator told him something was off.
"Then why open a shop and treat people for free?" he asked, his tone softening.
"Because I have nothing left to lose," Lam Tich said, his voice weary and resigned. "And because when I save a child from a fever, or see an old man in less pain, I feel... that I still have some value. A blind cripple like me, besides this mediocre medical skill, what else do I have to give?"
The sincerity in his voice and the actions of the past few days were beginning to tip the scales. Truong Thiet looked at the sightless eyes, then at the gaunt hands and the white bandages. A conflict rose within him: he mistrusted the mind, but sympathized with the heart.
Finally, he stood up. "I hope you are telling the truth, Physician Lam. Van Trach is small, but it is full of dangers. That bounty will draw many greedy and brutal men here. Be careful. Close your doors early on nights like this."
"I understand," Lam Tich nodded. "And I thank you for the warning."
As Truong Thiet and his subordinate vanished into the night rain, Van Khue slipped back through the rear door.
"Did he believe it?" Van Khue asked.
"Not entirely," Lam Tich said, his face turning cold in the shadows. "But he is wavering. He is caught between his rational suspicion and his emotional empathy. That hesitation is enough to keep him from acting rashly. It's enough to make him watch us longer. And while he watches, we will show him exactly what he wants to see—a benevolent, weak, and utterly harmless physician."
Dai Hung sighed in relief. Van Khue did not. He knew this was merely the silence before the storm. Truong Thiet was no fool. And Tam Tu, the willing puppet, was now running through the rainy night, carrying a hope for life and a fate already sealed by a blind man sitting in a tiny apothecary.
That night, far to the north of the town, Tam Tu—his heart hammering against his ribs—was "accidentally" spotted by a group of early hunters. He fled, "unintentionally" dropping a scrap of paper with a few scribbled words: "Blood sacrifice at Stone Valley, night of the black moon."
The news spread like wildfire. Before dawn, patrols, bounty hunters, and the curious were already swarming toward Stone Valley.
In the Still-Heart Clinic, Lam Tich listened to Van Khue's final report and nodded with satisfaction.
"Step one is complete. Now, we wait. We wait to see if Tam Tu is clever and lucky enough to truly survive and escape, or if he will become the perfect sacrifice for the Lam Clan's narrative."
"And Truong Thiet? Did he join the hunt?" Dai Hung asked.
"No," Lam Tich shook his head. "He is a cautious man. He will stay, watching the town, and watching us. But that is no matter. Because the next time he returns, it will not be as a Chief Investigator, but as... a patient in need of help."
The rain continued to drum on the roof of the Still-Heart Clinic. In the warm room, smelling of herbs and human presence, Lam Tich sat alone, his blind eyes turned toward the window where the patrol lights had long since faded.
The first puppet had danced. The threat had been diverted. And a potential enemy was slowly being drawn into a web of manufactured kindness and calculated empathy.