The Doctor maintained a composed expression, his eyes slightly half-open, one hand firmly resting on Han Li's wrist. He had focused entirely on the strength and flow of Han Li's internal qi, remaining silent for a long while. Only after a cup of tea's worth of time did he exhale deeply, as if releasing all his inner frustration. His eyes suddenly snapped open, a bright gleam shooting forth from his cloudy gaze, making it difficult for anyone to meet his stare. His face was stern, clearly dissatisfied with Han Li, though he had yet to utter a single word of criticism. With a calm, indifferent gesture, he waved Han Li to follow. Han Li obediently trailed behind, though he was intrigued by the mysterious figure beside him, knowing that now was not the time to ask questions freely. Upon entering the room, the Doctor settled into the armchair with a sense of weariness, his back pressed firmly against the backrest, half-sitting, half-laying down. The sharp gleam in his eyes had faded, and he once again appeared as though long suffering from illness. A mysterious figure had been closely following him, never straying more than a step away, and once he sat down, stood silently behind his chair, straight and motionless. Knowing that Doctor Mo was displeased, and unwilling to inadvertently offend him, Han Li adopted the same posture as the mysterious figure—walking to the center of the room, facing Doctor Mo, bowing his head respectfully and remaining still, waiting patiently for the doctor to speak. Yet after a long while, no one spoke. Han Li grew curious and restless, finally deciding to subtly lift his head and glance at Doctor Mo. "Why hesitate? Just look!" As he raised his neck halfway, Doctor Mo's sharp voice reached him. Han Li froze momentarily, then obediently lifted his head, his gaze circling the doctor's face several times before quickly retreating. His expression remained unchanged, yet within, a storm of emotions surged and churned. How strangely the face of Doctor Mo had changed! A faint black vapor seemed to hover over his pallor, as if alive, extending countless delicate tendrils that writhed and danced wildly across his face. What struck Han Li most was that Doctor Mo, who had always been so rigid, now displayed a resolute, fierce expression, fixing him with a cold, unkind gaze, his lips curling with a hint of scorn. Han Li felt something was amiss—unease crept into his chest, and a sense of danger began to spread throughout the room. With alertness and care, he stepped back half a step, drawing his hand into his sleeve and gripping the iron cylinder there, which eased the tension in his nerves slightly. Suddenly, from Doctor Mo’s lips came a low, mocking remark. "To show off such a little cleverness?" The Mu doctor shifted slightly, strangely transforming from a half-lying to a standing posture. With a faint, eerie smile, he flickered once, and like a ghost, materialized right beside Han Li, gazing at him with a cold, chuckling tone. Han Li's face paled, sensing something was amiss, and hurried to raise his arm—but a sudden numbness seized him, leaving him motionless. It was then that he noticed the doctor had withdrawn his fingers from the acupoints on his chest. How swift it had been—he had not even sensed the doctor's movement at all. "Master Mu," Han Li stammered, no longer able to maintain his usual composure, "what would you have me do? If there's anything amiss, please speak plainly. Why must you press on my meridians?" The doctor said nothing, merely tapping his back a few times with one hand and clearing his throat gently, appearing frail and elderly, as though barely holding on. Yet Han Li had just witnessed the swift manner in which he had subdued him—how could he now treat him merely as an ordinary elderly patient? On the contrary, Han Li felt even more respectful of him. "Doctor Mu, what is your status, and why are you so particular? You've undone my acupuncture points—what penalty do you demand? I shall bear it all myself." ... Han Li continued with a series of courteous and flattery-filled remarks. But Doctor Mu paid no attention, instead reaching into his sleeve and retrieving the iron cylinder, holding it firmly in his hands, then gazing at him with a look of mockery and disdain. Upon seeing this, Han Li's heart sank deeply. The hope he had carried to persuade the doctor through words vanished entirely. It seemed clear that the doctor would offer him no opportunity at all. Gradually, Han Li fell silent, his expression growing calm, meeting Doctor Mu's gaze with a steady, emotionless stare. At that moment, everything in the room seemed to come to a sudden stillness, silent as if before a storm was about to break. "Excellent! Excellent! Excellent!" Master Mo suddenly exclaimed the three words. "Without a doubt, the person I chose. Now you stand calm under pressure, composed and unflustered—worthy of the considerable investment I've made in you." He praised Han Li warmly. "But what exactly do you intend to do with me?" Han Li did not respond to Master Mo's praise, but instead asked directly. "Hmm, what do you intend to do with me?" Master Mo repeated Han Li's question, without committing to a specific answer. "What I will do depends entirely on how you perform." "What do you mean?" Han Li furrowed his brows, already sensing the direction of Master Mo's intentions. "I needn't say it—your intelligence should make you understand most of it, surely." "I can only grasp a small part, yet I still don't fully understand the entire situation, the origins, and the sequence of events." "Han Li didn't deny it—he was straightforward in acknowledging it. "That's excellent. Just ask me directly whenever you have questions; don't keep them bottled up inside." Doctor Mo gave a sly smile, the dark aura on his face seeming to thicken further, making his features even more grim. "I've always known you've been cautious toward me, never truly treating me as your master. But that doesn't matter—neither have I ever truly treated you as my disciple." Doctor Mo lightly scoffed as he spoke.