At that moment, Lu Feng must have recognized Shen Zhan’s identity—likely linked to those heroes who came to stir trouble. His words were a warning; offering the holy water to treat Shen Zhan felt more like a peace offering.
How could he possibly accept such a gesture…?
While Shen Zhan reeled in shock, Lu Feng had already begun treating his ankle, wrapping it tightly with gauze soaked in medicinal wine.
“It’s not your fault for not being accepted. The fault… lies with this world!”
As he applied the medicine, Lu Feng launched into a gentle pep talk.
*The fault… lies with this world!* The words sent another quiet tremor through Shen Zhan’s heart.
A century ago, the Eastern Empire and demons waged endless war. Yes, many demons were savage—but was that truly justification for humanity’s crusade? No. Humans were greedy. They coveted demon territories… and the magic cores within their bodies.
That greed forced countless souls to pick sides—often with no choice at all.
The fault lay with this world. With humanity’s hunger.
And that was why this formidable being had retreated to a quiet corner of Lingjiang Town, opening a humble clinic to live peacefully.
The moment the holy water touched the wound, residual toxins vanished in a soothing wave. Relief flooded Shen Zhan.
“Th-this… what’s the cost?” he asked nervously, eyes fixed on Lu Feng.
*Cost? He’s asking about the price… Huh. This old man still has a young, chuunibyou heart.*
“I’m an anime fan too. This one’s on the house. Just come back in three days for a change,” Lu Feng said with a smile.
*Anime fan?* Shen Zhan pondered carefully. Then it clicked. He fumbled in his pocket and pulled out a Madoka Magica magical girl figurine, still sealed in its glass case.
*He must want this artifact.*
Crafted over fifty years, it was both passion project and perfect disguise. When its owner fell unconscious or immobilized, it transformed into a combat machine of Seventh Tier strength—enabling near-infinite coordinated battle. Pristine, exquisitely detailed.
Lu Feng’s eyes lit up.
*A limited-edition Madoka Magica figurine!* Small, yes—but craftsmanship alone screamed “over a thousand bucks.”
“This… is your treasure, isn’t it?” Lu Feng hesitated despite his longing.
“You healed me, sir. This is but a small token of gratitude,” Shen Zhan insisted.
Lu Feng tried to refuse. *I don’t have change for that!*
“I wish only to befriend you,” Shen Zhan pressed, offering the figurine with both hands, bowing slightly.
*Befriend me?* Lu Feng paused. *He’s lonely. Feels he’s found someone who understands.*
*I can’t crush his sincerity… (Definitely not because I’ve been broke and dreaming of collecting figures.)*
“Alright. Friends it is. Medical help? Always free.” Lu Feng accepted the figurine with a happy grin, then pressed the medicinal wine bottle into Shen Zhan’s hands. “Keep this too. For sprains, bruises—anything.”
“Th-this is too much…” Shen Zhan stammered, reluctant to take it.
*Sigh. Prejudice left him wary of kindness.*
“Take it. We’re friends now,” Lu Feng said firmly, closing Shen Zhan’s fingers around the warm bottle.
Shen Zhan’s hands trembled. This wasn’t just medicine—it was priceless goodwill from a supreme powerhouse.
“Should you ever need me, for anything at all… please speak,” Shen Zhan said, removing his hat and bowing deeply.
“Friends help each other,” Lu Feng replied, patting his shoulder and shaking his slightly damp hand. “The figurine… it’s beautiful.”
*After fifty years of devotion… just “beautiful.”*
But he’d expected it. To one of such power, it was merely a fitting collectible—far nobler than some mass-produced trinket.
“Your medicine… is also deeply effective,” Shen Zhan murmured.
After Shen Zhan left, Lu Feng placed the figurine on a foldable display stand at the clinic’s rear. Stepping back, hands on hips, he admired it with quiet pride.
*Otaku collectors say a wall of figures costs a downtown apartment. I’ve got one shelf, one figure… but hey. First step.*
Shen Zhan tucked the holy water bottle close beneath his coat. Its warmth seeped through fabric, heart still pounding long after leaving the clinic.
With this, casualties in future human-demon conflicts could drop sharply. Countless lives saved.
In a deserted alley, he confirmed solitude, then activated his communicator. He sent an urgent alert to all Eastern Empire authorities in Nanzhou—police, Hero Association, every relevant agency:
“Designate 233 Yanwei Street, Lingjiang Town, as a BLACK-LEVEL WARNING ZONE.”
He added:
“Number: One individual.”
“Power Level: Unknown.”
“Disposition: Neutral.”
“Recommendation: Approach with goodwill.”
“CRITICAL: DO NOT RESORT TO FORCE! DO NOT RESORT TO FORCE! REPEAT: DO NOT RESORT TO FORCE!”
The clinic’s master had given a clear warning. As Hero Association president, Shen Zhan had done his duty. He could control his own people—but others? Uncertain.
All that remained was hope the powers that be would listen.
