Starting as The Young Master of A Pharmacy, He Trained Swordsmanship in Seclusion For Twenty Years - Chapter 2

Lu Xuan had reached the pinnacle of the Blood Refinement realm. Every inch of his flesh, every organ, surpassed ordinary human limits.

His martial vitality surged like an unstoppable tidal wave, vast and relentless.

Yet here, in this insignificant Qingyun County, he had encountered something that made even him uneasy.

It set his nerves on edge, setting off alarm bells in his mind.

I can’t just sit back and wait. I need to deal with this—now.

If this dragged on, he feared something far worse would happen.

……

The Lu Family’s Rear Courtyard.

Following the servant, Lu Xuan arrived at the rear courtyard and pushed open the heavy gate.

The moment it swung wide, a faint metallic tang hit his nostrils—blood. The scent wafted from a room at the center of the courtyard.

Its door stood ajar, and shadowy figures loomed just beyond the threshold.

Lu Xuan’s brow furrowed, but he didn’t hesitate. He strode forward.

As he stepped inside, familiar faces came into view.

His father, Lu Jiahe, stood flanked by two young men—Lu Xuan’s half-brothers.

Their attention was fixed on a makeshift wooden platform in front of them.

Bound tightly with ropes atop it were several men.

Despite their restraints, they writhed violently, their faces twisted in grotesque expressions.

“Father.”

Lu Xuan’s calm voice snapped the others out of their daze. They turned toward him.

“Xuan’er, you’re here.”

Lu Jiahe wore a grayish-white robe, his face lined with exhaustion. A silver-streaked beard framed his jaw, and his usual vigor had withered into weariness.

Whatever this was, it had shaken even this seasoned man to his core.

At the sight of Lu Xuan, some of the tension in his father’s face eased.

“Elder Brother.”

The two younger men greeted him as well, though their voices carried a trace of wariness.

Lu Xuan acknowledged them with a nod before turning his gaze to the figures on the platform.

“Father, is there anything else we can do?”

Lu Jiahe fell silent for a long moment before shaking his head.

“Xuan’er… their condition isn’t something mortal hands can mend.”

“You mean they encountered that?”

Lu Xuan didn’t need to elaborate. Everyone present understood.

His brothers shuddered, their faces paling.

Lu Jiahe nodded grimly. With decades of medical experience, he had already reached that conclusion.

No ordinary ailment could strip men of their senses, driving them to self-mutilation like rabid beasts.

What’s more, despite three days without food or water, they showed no signs of weakening.

Lu Jiahe knew these men—they weren’t martial artists, just ordinary folk.

By all rights, such frenzy should have killed them already.

“Father, if I may suggest—perhaps we should hand this matter over to the county authorities.”

Lu Xuan’s tone was steady, but his words carried weight.

“Yun’an, he…”

Lu Jiahe’s voice cracked. “This is my fault. I failed to protect him. How will I face Jiaqing now?”

Lu Yun’an was his nephew, the son of his younger brother, Lu Jiaqing—and one of the afflicted.

“My An’er! My poor An’er!”

A woman’s wail cut through the air as two more figures rushed into the room.

A frail-looking woman trembled as she threw herself onto the platform, clutching the bloodied figure of her son.

Her sobs were raw, her words broken.

“Eldest Uncle, you told us Yun’an was only feeling unwell! What—what happened to him? Who did this?!”

Lu Jiahe’s face twisted with guilt, but he had no answer.

He had summoned Yun’an’s parents, knowing this might be their last chance to see their son.

“Elder Brother, what’s wrong with Yun’an?”

The man who had entered with the woman—Lu Jiaqing—stepped forward, his voice hollow.

“Jiaqing, I… I failed him.”

“Is there any hope?”

Desperation flickered in Lu Jiaqing’s eyes as he searched his brother’s face.

But when Lu Jiahe remained silent, that hope dimmed. His complexion turned ashen.

His brother was the finest physician in the county. If he couldn’t save Yun’an, then no one could.

CRACK!

A sharp snap echoed through the room.

The bound men on the platform suddenly convulsed, their bodies straining against the ropes with inhuman force.

The cords dug deep into their flesh, staining crimson as blood seeped out.

Then—

SNAP!

The ropes burst apart.

“LOOK OUT!”

Everyone recoiled—but the woman still clung to her son, oblivious.

Lu Jiaqing lunged forward, trying to pull his wife away—

—just as Yun’an’s twisted hands shot toward her throat.

WHOOSH!

A gale-force wind erupted as a massive figure blurred into motion.

In an instant, Lu Xuan stood between them.

One hand clamped down on Yun’an’s skull, slamming it back into the platform.

The other shoved Yun’an’s mother backward, straight into Lu Jiaqing’s waiting arms.

The room froze.

All eyes locked onto Lu Xuan’s towering form.

He stood like a wrathful deity, pinning Yun’an effortlessly with one hand.

The young man thrashed beneath him, but it was like a sparrow fighting an eagle.

“So cold… And no heartbeat?”

Even through the struggle, Lu Xuan could feel it—

—a deathly chill radiated from Yun’an’s body.

And at this distance, Lu Xuan’s heightened senses detected something even more horrifying.

No pulse.

Not in Yun’an.

Not in any of them.

Since when do the dead move?