"Brother He, let's just leave first, so we don't upset Uncle any further." Zhou Chen, standing nearby, also felt somewhat awkward, but he thought Lin Yu had brought this upon himself—who told him to show off like that?

  Shen Yuxuan, equally embarrassed, hesitated to speak when he saw his father truly angry. In their household, his father held absolute authority—neither he nor his mother dared to contradict him.

  "Xiao Chen, I wasn't referring to you. Stay for lunch." Shen Hanshan's expression softened as he spoke to Zhou Chen.

  "No need, Uncle. I have something to attend to this afternoon," Zhou Chen declined with a smile.

  Soon, the three of them walked out of the Shen residence.

  "Jiarong, I'm so sorry. I had no idea my dad would be home today—otherwise, I wouldn’t have invited you over," Shen Yuxuan apologized, full of remorse.

  "It's fine," Lin Yu shook his head, his gaze suddenly drawn to a corner of the courtyard wall in the southwest.

  "Brother He, let's head back. I can drive you," Zhou Chen urged, his tone impatient. He was eager to see the *Ming Tie* calligraphy piece and could hardly wait.

  "I can’t leave. Uncle’s back pain has been severe lately, and he’s on the verge of a major calamity. If we don’t resolve it soon, his life could be in danger."

  As Lin Yu spoke, his eyes remained fixed on the southwest corner of the wall, his brow furrowed.

  "Jiarong, you have to find a way to save my dad!" Shen Yuxuan panicked. His father was the pillar of their family—if anything happened to him, the entire Shen household would collapse.

  "Aren’t you exaggerating? It’s just back pain. I get it too when I sit for too long," Zhou Chen said helplessly. He wondered if this He Jiarong was addicted to putting on an act. Even Yuxuan was egging him on. If not for needing his help with the calligraphy, Zhou Chen would have left long ago.

  "Yuxuan, was this corner of your courtyard wall repaired before?"

  Lin Yu walked over to inspect the corner closely. He could tell the paint on that section was slightly fresher than the surrounding area.

  "Yeah, about three months ago. A neighbor was renovating their garage, and the truck driver backing up was blind—he crashed into our wall and collapsed the corner. We had it repaired afterward," Shen Yuxuan explained quickly. "Why? Is there a problem with the corner? Did the repair ruin the feng shui?"

  Lin Yu shook his head. The issue wasn’t the repair—he could see dark energy seeping from *inside* the wall. "There might be something buried inside this wall."

  Earlier, when he entered, he hadn’t noticed because the dark energy had been blocked by the auspicious aura of the courtyard’s plum tree.

  As they spoke, the acupuncturist Shen Hanshan had scheduled arrived—a middle-aged man with graying hair. After exchanging a quick greeting with Shen Yuxuan, he hurried inside.

  Shen Yuxuan didn’t bother with formalities. "Something’s inside the wall? I’ll call someone to break it open right now."

  He pulled out his phone as he spoke.

  Lin Yu nodded. Glancing at the acupuncturist’s retreating figure, he knew the treatment would be futile. To truly cure Shen Hanshan’s back pain, they had to start with this corner.

  "Yuxuan, isn’t this too much? Smashing walls and everything—won’t Uncle be furious?" Zhou Chen frowned. "Why not wait? That acupuncturist is the chief physician of Mingxin Hall. He’s highly skilled—he cured my dad’s back pain last time."

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  "Zhou Chen has a point. We can wait a bit," Lin Yu agreed. He understood—Zhou Chen didn’t trust him.

  "Then I’ll at least call someone over first." Shen Yuxuan dialed a renovation company.

  "Make sure it’s not the same workers who repaired the wall last time," Lin Yu reminded him.

  "Got it." Shen Yuxuan nodded.

  Less than an hour later, two workers arrived in a small truck, fully equipped with electric hammers and drills.

  "You’re still here?!"

  Shen Hanshan emerged after his acupuncture session, escorting the physician out. Seeing Lin Yu still present, he grew visibly irritated.

  "Dad, the wall—"

  "Uncle, if I’m not mistaken, your back pain hasn’t improved after the acupuncture—it’s actually worse, right?" Lin Yu cut Shen Yuxuan off. He knew men like Shen Hanshan wouldn’t listen to vague explanations. They only cared about facts.

  "How did you know?"

  Shen Hanshan’s expression shifted slightly. Lin Yu was right—not only had the pain not eased, it had intensified. Now even walking was difficult.

  Inside, he and the acupuncturist had discussed it, but the physician was equally puzzled and suggested he visit Jishitang for further examination.

  "Uncle, I told you earlier—this isn’t due to strain. There’s another reason, including the recent accidents you’ve had. They’re all connected. Just give me a little time, and I can cure your back pain immediately." Lin Yu met Shen Hanshan’s gaze earnestly.

  "Thank you for your kindness, but no need. Yuxuan, get the car. Take me to Jishitang," Shen Hanshan said coldly.

  "Y-You’re the young genius who competed with Old Master Song that day?!"

  Suddenly, the acupuncturist recognized Lin Yu. He pulled out his phone, compared something, then exclaimed excitedly, "It *is* you! Young Master He, what an honor!"

  The physician rushed over to shake Lin Yu’s hand, bowing slightly with deep respect.

  The video of Lin Yu’s medical duel with Song Minghui had been recorded and shared in Qinghai’s traditional medicine circles, causing a sensation. Now, the entire TCM community knew of this prodigy.

  "You flatter me, sir." Lin Yu humbly lowered his head.

  Seeing the middle-aged physician—a man in his fifties—show such reverence to Lin Yu, both Shen Hanshan and Zhou Chen were stunned.

  Shen Yuxuan, however, swelled with pride. This He Jiarong was truly a master!

  "Director Shen, your condition *can* be treated! With Young Master He here, there’s no need to go anywhere else. Even Old Master Song of Jishitang is slightly inferior to him," the acupuncturist praised. With talents like this, the future of Chinese medicine was bright!

  "Dad, even this physician says so. Why not let Jiarong examine you? It might work," Shen Yuxuan urged.

  "Fine. Since you know medicine, take a look." Shen Hanshan was still skeptical but willing to give it a try.

  "I told you—your pain isn’t illness-related. Give me ten minutes, and I guarantee your suffering will vanish."

  With that, Lin Yu signaled Shen Yuxuan, who immediately ordered the workers to begin.

  The roar of the impact drill filled the air as half the corner crumbled.

  "What are you doing?!"

  Shen Hanshan’s face darkened. Was this rebellious son trying to demolish the house?

  "Jiarong, you were right! There *is* something inside!" Shen Yuxuan exclaimed, shocked and excited.

  Hearing this, Shen Hanshan froze, then joined the others in crowding around. Inside the wall was a dark-yellow oilpaper bundle, emitting a strange odor.

  Lin Yu borrowed gloves from the workers, carefully extracted the bundle, and unwrapped it in front of everyone.

  Gasps filled the air—inside the paper was a pitch-black chopper.

  Even Shen Hanshan, who didn’t believe in superstitions, felt a chill down his spine. A chopper hidden inside his courtyard wall? Anyone would be unsettled.

  "This isn’t ordinary oilpaper. It’s been soaked in corpse oil."

  Lin Yu frowned. Whoever did this was ruthless—what kind of grudge could justify this?

  The crowd shuddered in disgust.

  Amid the shock, Shen Hanshan suddenly realized—his back pain had significantly lessened!

  He tested his waist and knees, finding no trace of pain. Stunned, he glanced at Lin Yu with newfound awe.

  Lin Yu broke off a plum branch, borrowed a lighter, and set the branch and oilpaper ablaze. Then he asked Shen Yuxuan, "Do you have rice at home?"

  "Yes, yes!" Shen Yuxuan dashed inside and returned with the entire rice container.

  Lin Yu grabbed a handful, silently recited a purification incantation, then placed it back. He buried the chopper in the rice—instantly, the grains around it turned black.

  Zhou Chen stared, wide-eyed. Everything he’d witnessed today defied logic.

  "Throw the rice in the trash. The chopper can stay—it might be useful for pruning branches," Lin Yu said lightly. Now devoid of malice, it was just an ordinary blade.

  But Shen Yuxuan wasn’t taking chances. He paid the workers extra to dispose of everything—rice, chopper, and ashes—as far away as possible.

  "Uncle, your back doesn’t hurt anymore, right?" Lin Yu turned to Shen Hanshan.