The moonlight cast a frosty glow on the ground as Chen Ang proceeded slowly toward the lengthy pavilion.

They came to end his life, the elite disciples of Demon Sect, yet now, they lay helpless as children, their weapons—the very instruments they had cherished—lay discarded in the dust, unchanged in their former owner's gaze.

The sword had pierced flesh, bringing forth a sorrowful ache in Chen Ang's heart.

The swift, cunning sword strokes not only struck down four Demon Sect Elders but also shattered their spirits. After today, most here might never wield a sword again!

Behind Chen Ang, Bao Dachu lay bewildered, gazing upward. Next to him, Qin Weibang, Jia Bu, and Sang Sanniang had their eyes shut, faces serene as though the dazzling swordlight had blinded them, rendering them unable to open their eyes.

In the pavilion, the lone surviving Elder Wang Cheng of Demon Sect observed Chen Ang, who slowly regained his bearings. His face contorted with bitterness, his trembling hands clenched into fists, struggling with extreme inner turmoil.

Finally, he sighed, facing Chen Ang as the latter approached. Wang Cheng calmly shut his eyes.

But Chen Ang ignored him, passing by to stand in front of an odd figure—a man of considerable size, sporting a plump physique and an oddly humorous appearance.

The eccentric chuckled twice, abruptly loosening his clothing to reveal his broad chest. Grinning at Chen Ang, he taunted, "Are you here to kill me? Then go ahead, aim for the space between my left collarbone and the fifth rib, pierce my heart—it's the best way to go! But if you miss, I won't spare you even in death."

"Why speak like this, Ping Da?" Chen Ang's smile was faint as he calmly regarded the haughty doctor and pointed to his own chest. "But your heart is actually located elsewhere, isn't it? Between the fourth and fifth ribs—that's where I'd strike!"

"Haha! You're aware of this, impressive!" Ping Yi indicated down, refastening the button on his chest.

Chen Ang pressed lightly on the sword hilt, saying coolly, "A swordsman who kills needs to understand the human body thoroughly. If you cannot fathom what lies beneath your blade, it denotes incompetence!"

Ping Yi deftly adjusted his belt and craftily eyed Chen Ang. "You're deceiving me! Your dexterity, the sharpness in your eyes—it's not for killing but for saving lives!"

"It can be used for both purposes—saving or taking lives," Chen Ang replied, smiling gently as he withdrew his hand from the hilt.

Using lifesaving skills to kill—was there anyone more adept at this than the murderous doctor? Saving one life to take another didn't earn this doctor any accolades. Killing wasn't a certainty.

"In our doctors' eyes, human life is merely a symbol. A doctor who finds it difficult to lament the birth and death of humans is not a good one," Ping Yi said, sneering.

Chen Ang fell silent, gazing at the peculiar doctor before him, and sighed deeply.

"But if a doctor lacks empathy, treating patients like animals, regarding life as insignificant, then such a doctor isn't worthy!" 

An abrupt hush enveloped the pavilion. Chen Ang spoke no more. Elder Wang remained seated stiffly, head bowed in submission. The other Demon Sect disciples had already fled, leaving just three people and a horse on the ancient road at that moment, amidst boundless winds.

The evening breeze tousled their hair, bringing a refreshing coolness.

Ping Yi, with a pained smile that didn't suit his countenance and showed signs of flaws, spoke, "I've practiced medicine for decades, cured hundreds, and none died by my hand. But if I ever encountered someone killed by me, I'd pay for it! Ten times more renowned murder doctors exist in the world. Why can't I be called a doctor?"

"Shallow! Unbecoming!" The wind disheveled his hair, making his appearance even more disordered.

"A murderer who claims to be a doctor—a mere finger. In Jiang Hu, you are truly renowned. Even if you've saved just a hundred patients in your decades-long practice, it's still not enough!" Chen Ang's tone remained unaffected.

"Hey!" Ping Yi pointed and sneered, taking out a curly-haired medical case from his pocket, placing it in front of Chen Ang. "I've cured rare and bizarre diseases, more than you'll see in your lifetime. Cases I've encountered countless times! If someone's stricken with an unknown disease, I traverse miles to treat them!"

Chen Ang took the medical case and examined its contents meticulously—one peculiar disease after another, some unheard-of and others almost fantastical, each bearing testament to Ping Yi's vast experience in curing countless rare afflictions.

The sheer knowledge possessed by Chen Ang was truly awe-inspiring.

Witnessing this, Ping Yizhi smiled smugly and seized the medical case from Chen Ang's grasp. Despite gifting Chen Ang with shoes earlier, Ping Yizhi now reclaimed the medical case, prompting no resistance from Chen Ang. Instead, he merely sighed in silence and handed over a book from his arms.

"What's this now?" Ping Yi sneered, taking the book. Upon opening the first page, his complexion drastically changed, and he became deeply engrossed, wholly absorbed in its contents.

Chen Ang lightly smiled, absently picking up the medical case he had left behind. He spread it across his lap and gazed upward.

As moonlight shifted eastward, in the evening breeze pavilion, the only sound was that of the book being turned. Three shadows were cast by the fire, stretching long on the ground. Suddenly, one of the shadows quivered and moved frantically.

"Exogenous evil! Inner evil! Arteries! Veins! Wind evil chapter, cycle chapter, solution planing chapter! Impossible, this is impossible!" Ping Yizhi struggled, clutching his head, alternating between laughter and tears. His trembling hands held Chen Ang's book, his visage contorting into an uglier expression.

Carefully placing the book aside, his eyes bloodshot, Ping Yi attempted to tear apart the cover of Chen Ang's book, his hands shaking uncontrollably!

Chen Ang sighed, the scabbard lightly resting on his shoulder. His fingers failed to grasp the medical case, letting it fall into the dust as he weakly settled on the ground, closing his eyes in exhaustion.

"Is this medical knowledge from an external source?" After a long silence, Ping Yi asked hoarsely.

Chen Ang remained silent, instead carefully gathering the contents of the medical case, handling them with respect, and arranging them alongside his own medical expertise.

"Are you still carrying that shameful thing? Discard it! Discard it! Discard it entirely." Ping Yi shook his hands, tears welling in his eyes, turning away, unable to face Chen Ang again.

Chen Ang spoke quietly.

"I've never heard of a tower that wasn't built upon accumulated knowledge! Nor have I encountered supernatural medical knowledge that sprouts out of nowhere. Martial arts medicine is undoubtedly the pinnacle of genius, but even that genius is based on mortal foundations."

"Your medical knowledge and mine span countless generations of doctors across thousands of years. We're beneficiaries and pioneers of the Great Way—the most beautiful blossom in medicine. I stand taller not because I'm superior but because I stand on the shoulders of many before me."

"Today, you've abandoned that, losing the essence of a seeker. You gaze at other's towers but haven't turned back to your own. The pinnacle isn't just height; it's the minuscule yin-yang changes, the rise of the five elements. It's the Great Way of Medicine. You must understand, in the realm of Chinese medicine, you don't lose, you evolve!"

Ping Yi gazed up in astonishment at the entirely new medical book before him. He flipped through it again, encountering acupuncture, herbal medicine, guidance, Qi cultivation, meridians, Yin-Yang diagnostics, organs, and blood circulation—all profoundly different from what he'd just seen. 

The unfinished sketches and diverse methods, some unheard-of, were meticulously detailed. Ping Yi felt that everything he had learned in his lifetime couldn't surpass the boundaries laid out in this book.

"Chinese medicine boasts a rich history and robust foundations. When we notice even minor ailments, it's the pursuit of medicine to restore balance and preserve health. Bian once said, I follow the path of martial arts to decipher the transformations of the four-time changes, Yin-Yang balancing, aiming to empower everyone, ensuring robust health and eradicating diseases. It's about delineating the human body with Yin-Yang, aspiring to become a great doctor, guiding future generations!"

"This grand vision is beyond my capability. I want this book to be published worldwide, inspiring medical prosperity and ushering in a new era!"

Chen Ang's expression brightened as he lovingly fingered the pages, discussing the medical writing and methodically analyzing it for Ping Yi. They engaged in enthusiastic discussion, analyzing various medical principles and the essence of the written words.

Gradually, Ping Yizhi became engrossed. At times, he couldn't help but interject or agree, arguing key points, even refuting analyses from the two medical books he'd recently read. Chen Ang debated each point, and the two, unaware of the passage of time, conversed through the night.

"Brother Ping!" Chen Ang stood up, taking his horse and positioning himself outside the lengthy pavilion. "I have a word to impart, please heed!"

"Time marks beginnings and renewals; it's the flourishing era of medicine—a cosmic cycle's dawn, the renaissance of all things. It's a period where diverse ideologies converge, a time for the genius brethren. When the night is at its darkest, bring forth this flourishing tide, shatter the confines of Chinese medicine, pave the way for the future, paint the human body with Yin-Yang, and become a beacon for great doctors!"

"If you can surpass me and open a new realm for medical practitioners, I'd be honored! I'll certainly come to learn from Brother Ping. Brother, when you forget your roots, seek greatness!"

Ping Yizhi looked at Chen Ang and heard a young voice echo in his ear. It spoke, "The great healers treat ailments with serenity and determination, devoid of personal desires. They vow to relieve the suffering of spirits. When seeking aid, they won't discriminate based on wealth, age, grievances, friendships, wisdom, or identities."

With sudden laughter, Ping Yi picked up the three books on the ground, clutching them to his chest as if embracing treasures. Walking in the morning light, he shouted, "I care not for positions, only for the good and the bad. Cherishing life is deeply profound. I'll never evade it, staying awake all night, disregarding fatigue, focused solely on saving lives."

In the morning light, his shadow grew longer and longer. Elder Wang turned to look back; the chunky silhouette appeared slightly taller. Wang Cheng glanced at them, then turned away, falling into contemplation, staring at the worn pavilion.

In today's Changting, the murderous doctor named Ping Ping, who perished by the hands of Chen Ang, survived as the sole healer of the world.