Han Li listened intently, his heart suddenly stirred with alarm. But what followed then profoundly shook his spirit, making him realize that there were still so many things in the world he had never known. As the Doctor Mu roared, the seven strange blades piercing through him began to tremble, emitting a resonant "hum" from within their ghostly heads—the sound growing louder, sharper, as if the blades were coming to life and striving to break free from his body. Seeing the blades struggle so vigorously, the Doctor Mu grew increasingly agitated, muttering softly under his breath. Though the words were too soft and spoken too quickly, Han Li could not catch them—though he suspected they were anything but pleasant. Rising to his feet, the Doctor Mu circled the room several times before finally stomping his foot and, with a sense of helplessness, extended one finger and inserted it into the wide mouth of a ghostly head. Miraculously, the ghost head—once lifeless—closed its mouth on its own, using its thick, prominent fangs to firmly bite into the delicious offering that had been presented, and gently sipping it in. Dr. Mo's body trembled slightly, as though he were struggling to endure immense pain. Though the black mist obscured his face, Han Li could not see his expression clearly, but he was certain his complexion must have been grim. After a cup of tea's worth of time, the ghost head finally finished absorbing the nourishment, satisfied, and released its wide mouth, with the humming sound fading away. Then, Dr. Mo carefully repeated the same process, feeding each ghost head in turn, before reluctantly withdrawing his fingers. After completing these actions, Dr. Mo once again repeated the hand seals he had previously performed, and murmured incantations to himself. This time, the seven strange blades did not tremble nor emit any unusual sounds. Instead, they opened their eyes simultaneously, revealing blood-red pupils. Their mouths also widened, and their cheeks swelled as they drew in large amounts of something from the air above. The ghost mist on Doctor Mo’s face, sensing imminent disaster, surged wildly, its tendrils waving with ever-increasing fury—yet all to no avail. Seven slender black threads were still lifted from the mist, arcing gracefully through the air before precisely falling into the seven waiting ghost mouths, where they were slowly consumed, mouth by mouth. Han Li stood stunned. Since Doctor Mo sat directly across from him, every detail of what unfolded before him was vividly clear—down to the individual teeth on each ghost’s face. Han Li, for the first time touching the world beyond his own, was utterly stunned by this miraculous force. The strange silver blade, the eerie ghostly head, and the demonic black mist now hovering on Doctor Mo's face—all phenomena utterly beyond ordinary understanding—shattered his long-held beliefs. Indeed, in the past, Han Li had always been only half-believing in matters of gods and spirits; anything not witnessed with his own eyes had never seemed credible to him. Now, scenes once confined to legends and tales were vividly unfolding before his very eyes, and how could he fail to be amazed? For a moment, his mind became a whirlwind of confusion. As a prisoner, faced with such unearthly power, he had no idea how to respond. Gradually, the ghostly mist on Doctor Mo's face thinned from thick to thin, from dense to sparse, until the ghostly head had nearly consumed it, leaving only a faint, delicate layer still gently veiling his face. At that moment, Doctor Mo's face had already become clearly visible. Yet as Han Li caught sight of the true form reemerging, he was so startled that his mouth opened wide, remaining agape for a long time before he could close it again. Today had brought Han Li many surprises, but none had struck him quite as profoundly as what he now saw—something so utterly unexpected that it left him completely at a loss. The face emerging from the black mist was that of a robust, well-built man in his thirties, at the peak of his prime. Yet the familiar eyes and features clearly revealed it was still Doctor Mo himself, simply having aged by several decades. The resolute, commanding presence, the calm authority in his gaze, and the slightly cool, disdainful smile—every aspect spoke of a strikingly attractive and charismatic young man. This mature man's countenance held a lethal appeal for women—whether young and blossoming or weary and discontented in the quiet corners of noble households. With just a slight gesture, they often found themselves swept away, deeply ensnared and unable to resist. Upon seeing this face, Han Li himself felt a sudden urge to strike it to pieces, realizing that its beauty must have stirred envy in countless other men. As the final remnants of black mist on the face were drawn into the ghostly mouth, Han Li recalled the physician's earlier words: the man was originally only in his thirties, having grown so aged merely due to an unforeseen accident during his recovery, when evil forces had continuously siphoned away his vital essence. Thus, it seemed the man had not deceived him. The current appearance was indeed the true form of the physician—though the means by which he had restored his youth were truly astonishing. At this point, Han Li realized that not only had the young doctor's appearance changed, but his body and hair as well—his jet-black, firm hair and upright posture clearly indicated that he was in the prime of his life, with peak physical strength and vitality. "Yet, if the young doctor has the means to restore his original appearance, why does he go to such lengths to transform himself?" Han Li was puzzled. Having recovered from his initial shock, he became aware that he still faced a crisis and began rapidly analyzing the situation, striving to find a way out of the current predicament. He noticed that the now-younger doctor seemed slightly dazed, standing motionless in place, silent and expressionless. Only after a long while did he lift one hand, gazing at his smooth skin on the back of his hand with the tender eyes of someone who had long lost and now rediscovered a cherished treasure. Then he closed his eyes, pressing his palm gently against his cheek, rubbing it softly as though savoring once again the vitality of youth.