Chapter 84: Seeking Help and Choosing Not to Help

Thank you MAX Stone for the reward of a Spirit Beast Egg (5.3)

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Lord Huang's sudden kneeling startled everyone present.

"Miss Jun, my legs have only knelt to heaven and earth, and to my parents and teachers," Lord Huang said, his body weak due to his leg ailment, almost unable to rise from his knees, his whole figure prostrating on the ground.

At this moment, everyone saw only an aged man, forgetting his status and position, looking at this pitiful elder who might experience the pain of a white-haired person sending off a black-haired one.

"Please," Lord Huang pleaded, his head touching the ground repeatedly, his graying hair becoming disheveled, and his forehead stained with dust, mixed with tears making his entire face appear utterly disheveled.

Many women in the crowd could not help but shed tears.

"When a wolf lies down, everyone treats it as a dog," Zhu Zan said, "It seems no one remembers that every time this old fellow kneels, he ends up devouring several people when he gets up."

Sifeng patted his shoulder, his usually smiling face slightly stern, yet said nothing.

"Should Miss Jun really save him?" Zhang Baotang couldn't help but whisper, "She could say she can't save him..."

"Her?" Zhu Zan sneered, "Would she give up her reputation?"

"This could also be an opportunity for Miss Jun," Sifeng said after a moment of silence, his hand still on Zhu Zan's shoulder, suddenly speaking, "With her skills displayed, what's reputation? Besides, she's just a Doctor, no one will be harsh on her."

Zhu Zan's mouth twitched.

"She's not just a Doctor," he said.

His companions looked at him, puzzled.

What is she if not a Doctor?

"She's a fool," Zhu Zan said, looking past the crowd at Miss Jun, standing alone in the street, avoided by everyone.

Miss Jun watched Lord Huang bowing his head.

"Miss Jun, can you save him? Give us a straightforward answer," households shouted, "Everyone is waiting."

Miss Jun raised her head.

"I can," she declared.

Upon hearing her words, the Huang Family's people rejoiced, while the surrounding onlookers had complex expressions.

It's not that saving a life is bad, but it would be much better if the person saved were a good person.

Lord Huang, supported by his servants, struggled to stand up, his body trembling weakly as he bowed his head, no one noticing the fierce gleam in the bottom of his eyes.

As long as his son doesn't die, you all just wait.

Miss Jun stepped forward, and suddenly there was another sound of someone kowtowing; she paused her steps and looked beside her feet.

The girl who had her limbs crippled and was unconscious from a kick earlier, unbeknownst to when, had woken up.

She strained her neck, hitting her head on the ground again and again, her face bloody and lifting her head up, her eyes red, looking at her.

"Please, please," she said in a hoarse voice.

Just moments ago, the old man with white hair was kowtowing and begging to save his severely injured son; now this young girl was also kowtowing and pleading.

Her injuries were also severe, but she wasn't pleading to save herself.

Miss Jun looked at her; her body was full of knife wounds, these wounds not as severe as Miss Jun once had, but she was surely in more pain.

Because she was hacked to death, and death meant no more pain.

But this girl could not die; she had to endure the pain, and also endure the greater pain and a fate worse than death that was to come.

Even so, her eyes were previously filled only with joy, her wish fulfilled, dying without regrets.

But now, seeing Miss Jun approaching, her eyes were filled with despair.

That was the disappointment of wasted efforts, the helpless despair.

It was clear she also knew what kind of person Miss Jun was.

"Please, don't save him." She kowtowed repeatedly, murmuring, "Don't save him."

Miss Jun's eyes became dry and her vision instantly blurred.

Position is relative, Wang Zhice said.

Everyone in a dilemma hopes for a savior to descend from the heavens.

Those who can save others are seen as deities, as Bodhisattvas, grateful and revered.

But that's from the perspective of those who are freed from their predicaments.

The freed ones are grateful, but what about those who intentionally created the predicaments?

For them, the liberator is not a benefactor, nor a Bodhisattva, but rather a demon, only adding to their frustration from seeing their plans fall short.

Miss Jun looked at the girl still kowtowing.

She alone had escaped from death, bearing a grudge as deep as the ocean.

How she hid her identity, lived in hiding, and decided to seek revenge.

Her hand lay askew to the side; the palm, when open, showed calluses.

Was she practicing day and night for that strike at Lord Huang?

"Please," she raised her head, blood not masking her increasingly pale face; she had no energy to kowtow anymore, only nodding her head, muttering, eyes intently fixed on her.

"Slut!"

A house servant from the Huang family scolded, his foot lunging at the girl's face again.

Miss Jun grabbed the medicine box from Liu'er's hand and turned simultaneously.

Coincidentally, the heavy medicine box hit the servant, who cried out and stumbled forward, his raised foot landing on the ground, tripping over the other foot, falling face down.

"Ah, sorry," Miss Jun said, extending a hand to help him up.

"Why don't you watch where you're going?" Liu'er shouted discontentedly, "You're blocking my Miss, don't you want your family to receive medical treatment?"

The bystanders were confused by Liu'er's yelling; was it the servant who was blocking the way?

But that consideration was set aside for the moment.

"Make way, quickly invite Miss Jun," Boss Huang yelled.

Hearing this, the chaotic servants paused; Miss Jun looked at Lord Huang lying on the ground, adjusted the medicine box in her hand, and was about to step forward.

Hearing this, Lord Tang, who was standing aside, somewhat regained his composure at that moment.

With Miss Jun here, Lord Huang would surely be fine.

Could it be fate that Miss Jun was here exactly when needed?

Lord Tang held his wildly beating chest, his pale face gradually recovering.

Meanwhile, Zhu Zan, who was outside the crowd watching, also paused, stepping forward as he heard the statement.

Sifeng, always sharp, instantly gripped harder.

"Don't move," he said in a low voice, grasping Zhu Zan's shoulder to stop him from stepping forward, his expression solemn and somewhat anxious, "Really, there's no need, it's fine as it is; this Huang lying down means at least half a year's reprieve, enough to solve the dilemma."

Zhu Zan didn't look at him, still watching the scene.

Sifeng followed his gaze, landing on Miss Jun who was in stride.

"Miss Jun, as long as he is healed, that's enough; reputation alone isn't a dilemma," he urged quietly, "Staying still now is worry-free."

What if she refuses to heal him?

This cunning woman is not a compassionate healer.

Zhu Zan shrugged his shoulder off and strode forward.

Sifeng, failing to hold him back again, inwardly cursed, sensing trouble.