Jian Mo performed a detailed examination, pressing on the beastman’s abdomen and analyzing the symptoms, but couldn’t pinpoint the issue. It didn’t seem like gallstones or anything he could confidently diagnose.
The patient, who was in excruciating pain, was given pain-relief leaves brought back from the Mi Lin Tribe. After taking the medication, the beastman finally fell into a peaceful sleep.
One of the Hai Zuo Tribe members anxiously asked, “Doctor Jian Mo, what do we do now? How should we treat this?”
Jian Mo hesitated. “I don’t know how to treat this.”
Another beastman from the Hai Zuo Tribe grew desperate. “But you’ve performed surgeries before, haven’t you? Can’t you cut him open and remove whatever’s causing the pain?”
Jian Mo shook his head. “You can’t just cut someone open without knowing what’s wrong. It’s too risky. If I don’t know what I’m treating, cutting into him might make things worse—it could even kill him.”
“Can’t you at least open his stomach to take a look?”
“No,” Jian Mo said firmly. “The patient’s body is weak, and performing surgery in this state is incredibly dangerous. Even if I were to operate, the wound might not heal. His condition is something I’ve never encountered before, and I simply don’t have the means to treat it. If you know of another shaman or healer, I recommend seeking their help.”
The Hai Zuo Tribe members fell silent, their faces etched with worry. After some discussion among themselves, they turned back to Jian Mo. “Could you at least prescribe something to ease his condition while we try to find another healer?”
Jian Mo nodded. “Of course.”
Before they left, Jian Mo added, “Don’t go to Lian Ke from the Xia Meng Tribe. His medical skills aren’t reliable.”
The Hai Zuo Tribe members quickly agreed, assuring him they wouldn’t seek out Lian Ke.
Since the patient was in no condition to travel, they left him at the small clinic to rest. Jian Mo gathered a few people to collect herbs, hoping to find something that could cleanse the liver or alleviate the symptoms, even if only temporarily.
Later that evening, Ji Xun and Mo Ah noticed Jian Mo’s somber mood but didn’t know how to comfort him. They joined the others in gathering herbs instead.
By the time Wu Jiong returned, he immediately informed Jian Mo, “I’ve already sent someone to look for skilled shamans in other tribes. We’ve also asked around at other settlements.”
Jian Mo managed a weak smile. “Thank you.”
Wu Jiong pulled Jian Mo into a comforting embrace. “You’re not the Beast God. It’s normal to encounter illnesses you can’t treat.”
The warmth of Wu Jiong’s presence eased Jian Mo’s tension a little. He rested silently in Wu Jiong’s arms, trying to accept the situation.
Jian Mo’s mind drifted back to his training: “Sometimes you can cure, often you can help, and always you can comfort.”
Even so, the weight of helplessness bore down on him. This time, it wasn’t just a simple ailment. The beastman from the Hai Zuo Tribe might truly be facing death.
Though he knew the medications he provided were mostly palliative and a matter of luck, Jian Mo couldn’t bear to do nothing. He prescribed herbs for pain relief and basic liver support, though he harbored little hope they’d make much of a difference.
The news of the critically ill beastman spread quickly among the nearby tribes. While everyone tried to help by gathering information, the consensus was clear—Jian Mo was already the most skilled healer they knew. Many recounted his success in healing even severe injuries, like restoring Bei Ya’s disfigured face.
Despite their efforts, no one could name a shaman more reliable than Jian Mo.
Days passed, and the beastman, Fen Hui, stabilized slightly. While his condition didn’t improve, it didn’t worsen either, thanks to the pain-relief herbs. For the first time in days, he could lie awake without groaning in agony.
After deliberation, the Hai Zuo Tribe asked Jian Mo to continue treating Fen Hui. Jian Mo, after consulting with the He’an Tribe’s leadership, agreed.
One afternoon, while Jian Mo was transcribing notes from a medical text, he heard the flapping of wings outside. Looking out the window, he saw a line of bird beastmen from the Bai Zhi Tribe landing in the yard.
“Brother Jian Mo—” the bird beastmen called out as they transformed back into human form.
Jian Mo set down his pen and stepped outside. “What brings you here?”
Wan Zheng, one of the bird beastmen, spoke first. “We heard about the sick person you’re treating and that you’re looking for skilled shamans. We might have a lead.”
Before Jian Mo could ask further, another bird beastman chimed in. “There’s an elderly shaman in the Chu Xing Tribe—an old sub-beastman with incredible medical skills. They say he’s saved many lives. If the patient from the Hai Zuo Tribe is willing to travel, he might stand a chance.”
Jian Mo’s eyes lit up with hope. “That’s amazing news! Where is the Chu Xing Tribe?”
Wan Zheng replied, “It’s far to the southeast, about as far as the Mi Lin Tribe. We don’t know the exact location, though.”
The hope dimmed slightly. “That far… Do we know if the elder is still alive?”
“Last we heard, he was,” Wan Zheng said. “Someone visited him just last year for treatment and said his skills were incredible.”
Another bird beastman added, “Even if he’s no longer there, he might have trained apprentices who could help. The Hai Zuo Tribe should consider making the journey—it’s better than waiting here.”
Jian Mo nodded thoughtfully. “You’re right. I’ll go talk to the patient and his companions.”
“We’ll come too,” Wan Zheng offered. “We can explain what we know and support your decision.”
Jian Mo felt a surge of gratitude. “Thank you. That means a lot.”
Together, they headed to the clinic. Fen Hui was outside, soaking in the late afternoon sun. His yellow-green complexion and murky eyes painted a grim picture, making the Bai Zhi Tribe beastmen hesitant to approach.
Fen Hui showed little reaction to the commotion, his demeanor calm and resigned.
When he saw Jian Mo, Fen Hui forced a weak smile and greeted him, “Doctor Jian Mo.”
Jian Mo didn’t mind Fen Hui’s unsettling appearance at all. He walked over and gently supported him. “Don’t move.”
Fen Hui nodded and eased himself back down.
Jian Mo got straight to the point. “Today, some bird beastmen from the Bai Zhi Tribe came by. They mentioned a tribe called the Chu Xing Tribe, far to the southeast. Supposedly, there’s an old shaman there with exceptional medical skills. I wanted to ask if you’d be willing to travel there to seek treatment?”
Hope flickered on Fen Hui’s face. “Do you think he can cure me?”
Jian Mo hesitated, unsure how to answer.
Sensing Fen Hui’s uncertainty, the Bai Zhi Tribe beastmen quickly jumped in to offer comfort:
“We can’t guarantee anything without seeing him first, but it’s worth a try.”
“People from more than a dozen tribes have been searching for solutions, and no one nearby has been able to help. That shaman might be your best hope.”
“We haven’t encountered a case like yours here, but that doesn’t mean they haven’t seen it before.”
Fen Hui’s fleeting hope faded, replaced by resignation. His voice was tinged with bitterness. “So, it’s just a possibility? What if he’s like that other shaman, Lian Ke, and just a fraud?”
Wan Zheng spoke earnestly. “But what if he’s not? What if this is your chance?”
Fen Hui gave a bitter smile and shook his head. “I’ve never even heard of the Chu Xing Tribe. And now, I can’t even walk. Who knows how many days I have left? Instead of dying on the road, I’d rather spend my last days here, lying in the sun where it doesn’t hurt as much.”
Jian Mo crouched beside him and patted his shoulder. “You’re not pain-free, Fen Hui. It’s just the pain-relief leaves numbing the sensation. Eventually, even those won’t work anymore.”
Fen Hui sighed. “Still, after so many days of suffering, this is the only time I’ve felt some relief.”
Tears welled in his eyes as he continued, “Everyone says there’s no hope. Even you, Doctor Jian Mo, say you can’t help. I don’t believe there’s anyone with better skills than you.”
Jian Mo swallowed hard, forcing himself to maintain composure. His voice was steady but firm. “Don’t say that. You’re still young. There’s a chance you can pull through this.”
Fen Hui’s sallow complexion, dull eyes, and brittle, yellowed hair made him appear far older than he was. In truth, he was about the same age as Ban Ming, still in the prime of life.
This thought filled Jian Mo with a deep sense of regret.
Determined, he spoke again, “Talk to your tribe members about it. I’ll also keep thinking of solutions. It’s not time to give up yet. I won’t give up on you, so don’t give up on yourself.”
Fen Hui’s tears spilled over as he wiped them away with the back of his hand. “Alright.”
