After A Max-Level Celestial Master Transmigrated Into The Body Of A Sickly Beauty's Substitute - Chapter 4

Caught off guard, Lan Ting was plunged into chaos, his five senses diminished to the extreme. Yet, in the darkness, something hard bumped against him, causing him to frown.

What on earth is that? So hard.

That “thing” took a light, effortless step, instantly shattering the entire array. Everything had been going smoothly, and both the old Daoist and Gu Guixi had been certain of success, but an accident occurred nonetheless. Regardless of how much blood the Daoist coughed up after the backlash, the ward itself remained strangely peaceful.

The newcomer was cloaked in black mist, making it impossible to see anything in the night. From within that mist, a hand marked with bizarre totems reached out, straightened the youth on the bed, and traced his features with fingertips. When those fingers paused on lips stained with dried blood, the motion abruptly stopped.

A dangerous aura began to spread rapidly through the air. The window frame rattled with a faint sound as if frozen by low temperatures, and the coffee table vibrated with a dull hum. All these disturbances ended the moment Lan Ting frowned.

The lost vitality could not be recovered; Lan Ting’s body was veiled in a grey, sickly aura, marking him as someone near death. The hand smoothed the furrows in his brow, pulled back, tilted its head, and pressed down firmly on the vertebrae at the base of his neck.

The surroundings fell into silence. A sword hummed, ringing out across the sky, yet those outside remained entirely unaware. The sound was clear and short, and the figure in the black mist let out a suppressed breath.

“Ugh.”

In his dreams, Lan Ting felt as though he were floating in the clouds, soft and warm, as if wrapped in a massive cocoon. A fire burned at his spirit center, yet the temperature did not scorch him. The flames stacked layer upon layer, and in the next second, he broke through the cocoon.

It must have been daytime when he woke up. Lan Ting reached out, his palms feeling the warmth of the sunlight. His meridians were clear, his spirit bright, and his condition was significantly better than the day before. The dull ache in his chest, which had persisted for so long, had largely vanished, though his vision remained pitch black.

“What happened?” Lan Ting muttered, frowning. He froze, reaching up to touch his neck. His Adam’s apple rolled under his fingertips; his voice had recovered too.

“Not only am I not dead, but I have even recovered somewhat. Hiss.”

Lan Ting narrowed his eyes. No matter how he looked at it, this was strange. Yet, outside the window, birds sang melodiously, the wind rustled the treetops, and the sun felt warm and gentle. Everything appeared perfectly normal.

How peculiar.

A dark glint flashed in his eyes before he buried his suspicions. He sat up in bed and stretched his arms in a long yawn. At the same time, the door to the ward opened, and the smell of antiseptic filled the room.

“Awake?” the doctor asked.

Lan Ting blinked and turned toward the sound. His expression immediately relaxed into a soft, harmless look. “Dr. Li.”

As he moved, his hand brushed against the nearby cabinet, touching a cold, hard object. He paused, but as Dr. Li approached, he tilted his head casually to hide his reaction.

The young man did not look fragile; instead, he had a pair of phoenix eyes. When he looked up, his outer corners tilted slightly, giving him a naturally haughty air. However, his skin was overly fair, and having been frail since childhood, he naturally carried an aura of sickness. With his recent brush with death and his hair turned white overnight, this fragile appearance combined with those eyes made him look stubbornly resilient. He looked quite pitiful.

Dr. Li, seeing him in such good spirits, felt happy. He approached with a medical chart and equipment. “Your throat is better? You seem to be in high spirits.”

As he chatted with Lan Ting to put him at ease, he began the examination. The results shocked the entire hospital. Dr. Li took off his glasses, cleaned them, and put them back on, but that could not soothe his sense of disbelief.

Lan Lin stood behind the Lan parents. Fearing the results might upset Lan Ting, they had closed the door to discuss them. It was clear, however, that the results were even more shocking to the doctor.

The report passed through the hands of the Lan family. Mr. Lan frowned at first, but his brow soon smoothed, his surprise replaced by a hint of joy. “These indices are only slightly lower than a normal person’s.”

Because Lan Ting had been sickly since birth, he required regular checkups and therapy, so the family had learned to read the reports over time. The results in their hands were not much different from Lan Ting’s usual state; if anything, he was just a bit weaker. Compared to the state he had been in, coughing up blood and falling into a coma, this was a vast improvement.

Dr. Li nodded. “It is truly miraculous. First, the failing organs mysteriously recovered, and then his condition improved drastically overnight. This is incredible.” Most doctors would never encounter such a case in their entire lives; Dr. Li’s hands were trembling with excitement.

Mr. Lan had been a businessman for most of his life. While not a doctor, he possessed enough worldly wisdom to know that the fewer people who knew about this, the better. He handed the report to his eldest son and smiled at Dr. Li. “I heard your hospital is looking to introduce a new batch of equipment soon?”

Dr. Li paused. “Yes.”

Mr. Lan laughed.

Inside the ward, Lan Ting was not resting quietly as they imagined. His lightless eyes stared fixedly at his side, unmoving. Under his gaze, a sword over three feet long hovered in mid-air. The sword had no scabbard and was covered from hilt to tip in mottled rust, making its true appearance impossible to discern. No matter where Lan Ting went or how he turned, the sword floated silently right beside his right hand. With a light lift of his hand, he could touch it.

Doctors and nurses entered the ward frequently, and Lan Ting had already tested it: no one else could see the sword. Its appearance was too suspicious. If it were a person, Lan Ting would have eliminated the unknown entity long ago, but it was just a sword. It was a sword that felt gentle and silent, as if it were practically shouting the word “harmless” into his face.

Tsk. Lan Ting flicked his finger, precisely striking the sword’s body.

Hum.

The sound was clear and sharp.

After spending over half a month in the hospital and confirming his condition was stable, Lan Ting was finally allowed to leave his bed. His parents were getting on in years, so Lan Lin did not let them stay the night. Instead, he set aside his company duties to care for his brother. The great CEO, usually busy signing billion-dollar deals, was currently using a fruit knife to peel an apple for his younger brother. He finished in one go, the peel unbroken.

Finally, Lan Lin put down the knife and handed the beautifully peeled apple to his brother. “Here you go. I am going to go wash my hands.”

“Thank you, brother.”

The youth’s voice was clean and cold, his tone gentle. Lan Lin could not help but reach out to ruffle his hair. The silvery-white strands slid across his fingertips, making his hatred for Gu Guixi deepen even further.

Lan Lin washed his hands with his back turned. After he turned around, the youth’s expression slowly changed. The purity and gentleness in his dark pupils vanished, leaving behind only a trace of detachment and nonchalance. However, the moment Lan Lin glanced over, those traces vanished, immediately hidden away.

Seeing his brother eating the apple obediently, Lan Lin’s gaze softened. He wiped his hands while walking over and spoke as if it were a casual observation. “I just saw Steward He processing discharge papers. Gu Guixi is being discharged today.”

It was only a mild concussion, after all; even if Gu Guixi wanted to pretend, he could not stay in the hospital for more than half a month. The police case had stalled, but Lan Lin was not in a hurry; the Gu family’s retribution was still to come.

What satisfied Lan Lin was that Lan Ting only flickered his eyes, appearing flustered. He muttered a dull, “Oh,” and bowed his head.

His attitude suggested he had not entirely forgotten that scum, but it was already a significant improvement. Having walked through the gates of death, the price paid was steep, but if Lan Ting had come to his senses now, it was not too late.

Since he no longer held affection for Gu Guixi, and arguably even loathed him, Lan Ting did not want to bring up the man again. He awkwardly changed the subject. “Brother, please pour me a glass of water.”

The pampered young master, clumsy and bad at lying, blushed as he spoke. Lan Lin saw through him instantly, but looking at the rare touch of color on his brother’s face, he decided not to expose him. He smiled and followed his lead. “Alright.”

The weather was wonderful that day. After much pleading, Lan Ting was finally allowed to go outside for half an hour. There was a courtyard below the ward, bathed in sunlight. Lan Ting navigated the obstacles in the ward like an acrobat, and seeing this, Lan Lin nodded in surprise and agreed to let him go out alone.

Before leaving, a cane was still pressed into Lan Ting’s hand. After being trapped in the room for half a month, even a healthy person would go stir-crazy. Lan Ting was in a much better mood. Many people were walking in the corridor; despite being blind, he avoided everyone he passed with precision. Aside from the nurses who knew his condition and looked on in shock, no one felt anything was amiss.

Lan Ting did not choose the elevator, opting instead to walk down step by step, following the handrail. The hospital air was thick with the scent of life and death, but on the lawn outside, the spiritual energy was fresh and earthy. As he stepped out, the sunlight fell upon him.

Lan Ting stood at the entrance for a moment, extending his hand, and chuckled. “It has been a long time.”

However, an uninvited guest arriving through the air quickly ruined his mood. The scent of a talisman flickered and vanished. Lan Ting’s expression darkened for a moment, and he raised his hand to intercept it; before the talisman could take effect, it turned into dust in his palm. His spiritual energy waned, and Lan Ting could not help but cough a few times.

As the ash dissipated in the air, the youth’s tone turned cold and dismissive. “A memory-wiping spell? A mere parlor trick.”

His temples throbbed as he coughed, and he raised his hand to rub them. His hand brushed against the hilt of the sword at his side, and the rusted blade hummed in a way only he could hear. Before Lan Ting could change his gesture to flick it, the sunlight on his left was blocked.

As a chill seeped into the air, Lan Ting looked down, a murderous glint appearing in his brow.

“Xiao Ting.” A voice dripping with feigned gentleness followed.

Lan Ting ignored him, taking two steps forward to move out of the shadow the man cast. He continued to reach out, letting the sunlight dance on his fingertips.

Gu Guixi did not give up. He watched Lan Ting’s expression, but regretfully, he could see nothing. Blind confidence, however, led him to speak anyway. “Xiao Ting, do you remember what happened that day?”

So, he was waiting here for me, Lan Ting laughed. A coarse spell like a memory-wiping curse could not have damaged even a hair on his head when he was just born.

“Oh? Then you tell me, what happened?” he asked lazily.