Zhao Kun’s vicious screech echoed through the colosseum loudspeakers, jarring against the concrete walls.
The spectators in the velvet booths looked up at the broken VIP box. Many of them shook their heads in open disgust. Even among hardened underground gamblers, destroying an ancestral medical treasure to make teeth for guard dogs was petty and vile.
Dr. Gu Qinghe stood in the aisle, his old hands trembling so hard his fingernails dug into his palms.
“Ten years ago,” Dr. Gu said, his voice shaking with bitter grief. “Your family’s thugs set fire to our Imperial Medical Clinic in the dead of winter. Three apprentice boys burned in the attic. You stole sixty years of medical records and our master’s Sovereign Spirit-Gold Nine-Turn Needles—the lost upper half of our lineage set. And now you want to melt them into slag?”
Beside Dr. Gu, six-year-old Little Guo’er tugged gently on his coat sleeve.
“Grandpa Gu,” Little Guo’er said in a small, comforting voice. “Do not be sad. Bad people always shout when they lose. Grandma Chen said bad words cannot hurt good people.”
Dr. Gu looked down at the little girl, his eyes moist. He patted her small head gently, trying to steady his breathing.
Up in the ruined box, Zhao Kun gripped the brass railing and laughed, wiping a streak of dried blood from his jaw.
“Yes, old fool!” Zhao Kun sneered down at him. “Survival goes to the ruthless! In Jiangcheng, money makes the rules! I bid fifteen million yuan! Who in this room can stop me? Auctioneer, strike the hammer!”
The head auctioneer looked nervously toward the stage, his hand hesitating above the wooden block.
“Fifteen million yuan bid by Chairman Zhao,” the auctioneer stammered into his microphone. “Fifteen million going once—”
Before the auctioneer could raise the wooden mallet a second time, Lin Mo lifted his right hand.
He held up two fingers. He did not even look at the VIP box.
“Twenty million yuan,” Lin Mo said, his tone as flat and casual as ordering a cup of plain water. “Gifted directly to Dean Gu Qinghe of Taichu Sanctuary Hospital.”
The entire hall went still.
The auctioneer blinked, lowering his mallet.
“Twenty... twenty million yuan!” the auctioneer called out, his voice cracking with excitement. “Bid by Chairman Lin of Taichu Group!”
Up in the wrecked box, Zhao Kun leaned over the edge, his eyes bulging with fury.
“Twenty-five million!” Zhao Kun screamed, slapping the railing with his palm. “I bid twenty-five million! Auctioneer, take my bid!”
The auctioneer tapped the digital terminal on the podium. A harsh red light buzzed on the console.
BUZZ.
The screen flashed a bold red notification:
[Notice: Zhao Pharmaceutical Account Insufficient Available Liquidity.]
[Pending Margin Call: ¥35,000,000 for Auction Lot #10 Seal + ¥30,000,000 Unsettled Cage Defeat.]
[Account Frozen by Jiangcheng Commercial Bank Risk Control.]
The auctioneer cleared his throat, leaning toward the microphone.
“Chairman Zhao,” the auctioneer said politely but firmly. “The system reports that your credit line has reached its absolute limit. You have sixty-five million yuan in pending settlements from earlier tonight. Unless you can deposit cash immediately, your bid is void.”
The gamblers in the tiered booths began to chuckle and murmur.
“Zhao Kun is broke!”
“He lost thirty-five million on a fake stone, lost thirty million on Lei Hu, and now his card is frozen!”
“He talked so big about making dog teeth, but he cannot even clear a deposit!”
Zhao Kun’s face flushed from pale white to a furious, blotchy purple. He turned to Zhao Kai, who was still weeping on the floor.
“Kai! Give me your corporate card!” Zhao Kun demanded, kicking his nephew’s leg with his shoe.
“Uncle... I have nothing left,” Zhao Kai cried, covering his face with both hands. “I bet all our operational funds on Lei Hu. The card has forty-two yuan on it!”
Zhao Kun stumbled backward against the broken wall, his chest heaving with impotent rage.
Zhao Kun is down to forty-two yuan and a pile of broken wood, Lin Mo thought, watching the pathetic scene from below. He tried to behave like an emperor, but his pocket has fewer coins than a street singer’s cup.
Lin Mo tapped his Black-Gold Sovereign Benevolence Card against the wireless terminal that Su Wan held out.
BEEP.
[Ding! Payment Cleared: ¥20,000,000.00 RMB!]
[Transaction Type: Pure Benevolence Heritage & Medical Gift!]
[Target Beneficiary: Dr. Gu Qinghe (Goodness: 96/100, Imperial Medical Master & Dean of Taichu Sanctuary Hospital)!]
[Item Acquired: Sovereign Spirit-Gold Nine-Turn Needles (Upper Nine of the Sun-Simiao Lineage Set)!]
[Pure Altruistic Intent Verified: Restoring ancestral heritage to righteous healer for saving thousands of sick children!]
[Triggering 100x Pure Benevolence System Refund!]
[Cash Refund Received: +¥2,000,000,000.00 RMB!]
[Funds deposited directly into Host Personal Liquid Vault!]
[Personal Liquid Vault: ¥83,000,000,000.00 RMB!]
[Benevolence Merit Points: +2,000,000 BMP | Total BMP: 175,949,528 BMP!]
[Good People Network Expanded: 9,555 Verified Righteous Allies (+5 heritage medical curators)!]
Two billion more in cleared cash, Lin Mo thought, watching the numbers settle into his personal account. Eighty-three billion yuan. Zhao Kun tries to destroy cultural treasures out of spite, and all it does is make my bank balance grow.
The head auctioneer brought his mallet down with a sharp CLACK.
“Sold!” the auctioneer declared loudly. “Sold to Chairman Lin Mo for twenty million yuan! Ownership transferred immediately to Dean Gu Qinghe!”
Two security attendants carefully lifted the antique dragon-scale sandalwood box from the cart. They carried it down the stage steps and walked straight to Dr. Gu.
Dr. Gu’s vision blurred with tears as he reached out with both hands. His palms touched the smooth, fragrant wood of the box.
“Master...” Dr. Gu whispered, choking on his words. “Our needles have returned home. The clinic will never be silenced again.”
Lin Mo stepped over, smiling warmly.
“Dean Gu,” Lin Mo said gently. “These needles belong in hands that heal the sick, not in the vault of a thug. Open the box. Let them see the light again.”
Dr. Gu wiped his eyes with his sleeve and nodded.
Beside Dr. Gu stood six-year-old Little Guo’er. She held Dr. Gu’s coat hem with one hand. Her round, innocent eyes stared at the box with pure curiosity.
Her Goodness Score shone above her head in an unblemished, peerless golden-white radiance: 100/100.
Dr. Gu gently turned the silver latch. He lifted the heavy sandalwood lid.
Inside, the nine slender gold needles lay on their cushion of aged imperial silk.
The moment the air touched them, the nine needles began to vibrate.
HUMMMMM.
A clear, musical sound rose from the box, sounding like nine tiny bronze chimes ringing together in a mountain spring. The sound was not loud, but it possessed a strange, penetrating quality that washed through the entire underground arena.
Every person in the colosseum felt a sudden sensation of clarity. The thick smell of tobacco, stale beer, and dried blood in the room seemed to vanish instantly.
Then, something miraculous happened.
A strand of soft golden light drifted up from the first needle. Then another strand from the second needle.
The nine golden strands did not fly toward Dr. Gu. They did not fly toward Lin Mo.
Instead, they floated through the air like playful fireflies, circling gently around Little Guo’er’s braided hair.
Little Guo’er giggled softly. She reached up with her tiny fingers to touch the warm golden light.
“Grandpa Gu,” Little Guo’er said, laughing with delight. “The little golden bees are tickling my head! They are warm, like a cup of sweet ginger soup!”
FLASH!
The nine strands of golden qi converged above Little Guo’er’s head.
Suddenly, a translucent, nine-petaled golden lotus flower bloomed in the open air, three inches above her braids.
The lotus spun slowly, shedding soft, radiant petals of warm medicinal light. Each petal emitted the sweet, heavenly fragrance of blooming wild orchids and pure morning dew.
The golden radiance expanded outward in a gentle wave.
When the light passed over the fifty disabled martial veterans, their old surgical scars began to tingle. The dull aches in their joints vanished. The veteran with the amputated arm breathed deeply, his chest filling with pure, untainted vigor.
“My knee,” an old soldier whispered, touching his leg in amazement. “The cold dampness that has tormented me for thirty years... it is gone!”
“Look at that little girl,” another veteran whispered, lowering his head in reverence. “She is surrounded by holy light!”
Even the hardened gamblers in the booths looked around in wonder, feeling an inexplicable peace settling into their hearts. Several men put out their cigars and bowed their heads.
Dr. Gu fell to his knees beside Little Guo’er. He stared at the spinning golden lotus above her head, his mouth trembling in utter awe.
“The Innate Pure-Lotus Spirit Root...” Dr. Gu stammered, tears streaming down his face. “In the ancient medical classics of the Tang Dynasty, it was written that once every thousand years, a child is born with an untainted soul and an Innate Lotus Root. Such a person can naturally resonate with spirit-gold and communicate with all living herbs!”
Dr. Gu looked up at Lin Mo, his voice trembling with profound reverence.
“Chairman Lin! Little Guo’er is not just an ordinary child! She is a peerless medical genius born to heal the world! The nine needles chose her as their true spiritual guardian!”
Lin Mo looked at Little Guo’er.
The little girl was still smiling, completely unaware of the legendary nature of her gift. To her, the spinning golden lotus was just a pretty toy made of sunshine.
A pure hundred score, Lin Mo thought, feeling a rare warmth deep inside his chest. The system showed her score as a true hundred on the very first day at Grandma Chen’s noodle stall. Pure kindness without a single drop of malice. The ancient treasures truly have their own eyes.
[Ding! Spirit-Artifact Resonance Detected!]
[Ancient Nine-Turn Sun-Simiao Gold Needles recognized Little Guo'er (100/100) as Innate Spirit Carrier!]
[Healing Efficiency of Taichu Sanctuary Hospital increased by 300% permanently!]
[Host Karma Field Harmonized: Golden Benevolence Qi reinforced!]
Up in the ruined VIP box, Zhao Kun watched the golden lotus spinning above Little Guo’er’s head.
His mind was completely shattered.
He had lost his river blockade. He had lost his champion fighter Lei Hu. He had lost thirty-five million on a fake seal. He had lost thirty million on a side-bet. And now, the antique needles he had stolen ten years ago were blooming with miraculous divine light for a seven-year-old orphan girl!
Every ounce of reason and restraint evaporated from Zhao Kun’s brain. He gripped the microphone, his voice turning into an insane, blood-curdling roar.
“Guards! Black-Tiger mercenaries! Close all the blast doors!” Zhao Kun screamed, saliva spraying from his lips. “Kill them! Kill everyone on the floor! Take the needles! Take the three-hundred-year ginseng! Take Lin Mo’s bank cards! If anyone leaves this basement alive, I will skin you all!”
CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!
Heavy hydraulic motors groaned inside the walls.
At both ends of the arena, massive steel blast doors slammed downward, cutting off the main exits with deafening crashes. The iron plates were four inches thick, designed to withstand high explosives.
From the four corners of the colosseum, thirty black-clad private mercenaries strode forward.
They wore tactical combat vests and ballistic helmets. Every man held a black submachine gun or a heavy pump-action shotgun. Their Goodness Scores ranged between -8/100 and -15/100.
The high-rolling gamblers screamed in panic, diving under their velvet tables and overturning chairs to take cover.
“Zhao Kun is crazy!”
“He is locking the doors to butcher everyone!”
“Let us out! We are just spectators! We have nothing to do with Taichu!”
The thirty mercenaries ignored the gamblers. They raised their submachine guns, forming a tight semicircle around Lin Mo, Dr. Gu, Little Guo’er, and the fifty veterans.
Tie Niu stepped in front of Little Guo’er and Dr. Gu. He pulled his eighty-pound cold-iron sabre out of the concrete floor with one hand, resting the flat of the heavy blade across his chest like a steel shield.
“Step back, scum,” Tie Niu warned in a low growl. “You will not touch the child.”
The fifty disabled veterans did not run. They formed an outer ring with their walking canes and fists raised, shielding the women and the child with their own scarred bodies.
The mercenary captain, a cold-faced man with a jagged scar across his lip, stepped forward. He racked the bolt of his assault rifle with a sharp metallic clatter.
“Hand over the sandalwood box and the little girl,” the captain ordered, leveling his rifle barrel straight at Lin Mo’s forehead. “Kneel down with your hands behind your head, or we paint this floor with your blood.”