24. Enshrouded in Mystery

Sang Biao was always a suspicious man by nature, and after hearing Ye Feng’s words, he was once again stunned, silently wondering to himself just who this person truly was. Ye Feng was worried that if things dragged on any longer, Wang Siyuan would die in the secret chamber—after all, he had only given him the most basic treatment. “Alright, search if you must. Just don’t make a mess of my things! If you do, you’ll have to deal with the consequences yourself.” With that, Ye Feng walked over to the sofa, lay down, and pretended to watch television, paying Sang Biao no further attention.

Ye Feng’s display only deepened Sang Biao’s confusion, but he hadn’t forgotten his main purpose for coming today. After making a few hand signals, several men in black swiftly began searching the ancestral house.

Outwardly, Ye Feng appeared calm, but his heart was pounding. Although the secret chamber was well concealed, he couldn’t be sure they wouldn’t find it.

Luckily, after five minutes, all the men in black returned, having found nothing. Sang Biao’s expression was awkward—staying was uncomfortable, but leaving felt even worse.

Seeing Sang Biao’s embarrassment, Ye Feng said, “If you didn’t find anything, stop disturbing my rest. Please leave and close the door behind you!”

Without another word or glance at Sang Biao, Ye Feng ignored him entirely. Sang Biao could only leave with his men in silence. He reasoned that, after all, the monk could run, but the temple couldn’t; if he could later prove that this man wasn’t from the Luo family, he could always come back for revenge.

After Sang Biao and his men left, Ye Feng waited a while longer before hearing Huai Huai speak: “Alright, they’re all gone. They shouldn’t be back for now. You’d better go check on that guy—if you wait much longer, he won’t make it. He’s lost too much blood, nearly 1,500ml, almost a third of his total blood volume. He’s really at death’s door.”

Hearing this, Ye Feng grabbed a fruit knife, lighter, and some needle and thread from the bedroom and hurried toward the study. While Sang Biao was searching the house, Ye Feng had already asked Huai Huai how to treat Wang Siyuan without any medical equipment at home. After all, his wound was a gunshot, and Ye Feng was no doctor—he could only manage basic first aid.

“What are you worried about? With my advanced technology, I can definitely save him. As long as you can get the bullet out of his shoulder, he’ll live.”

“The problem is, I don’t know how to remove a bullet!” Ye Feng said helplessly.

“That’s easy. Just use the fruit knife to open the wound, take the bullet out, then sew it up with the needle and thread,” Huai Huai explained simply, nearly driving Ye Feng crazy with the nonchalance.

Ye Feng quickly carried Wang Siyuan out of the secret room and laid him on the floor of the study. He sterilized the fruit knife with heat, then cut open the wound on Wang Siyuan’s shoulder. Luckily, Ye Feng had chopped up pork ribs before—he had seen his share of blood and gore, so he didn’t react too strongly. Only when he had to feel around for the bullet with his fingers did he feel nauseated. Though Wang Siyuan was unconscious, the pain made his brow furrow and his body convulse. Still, Ye Feng soon found the bullet and, after removing it, stitched the wound closed with fishing line.

When all was done, Wang Siyuan was barely breathing. Ye Feng thought he was as good as dead.

At that moment, Huai Huai spoke up, instructing Ye Feng to grind up the household medicines—penicillin, methicillin, cefradine, cimetidine, and tobramycin—mix them with warm water, and administer them both orally and topically to Wang Siyuan.

At first, Ye Feng thought Huai Huai was joking, but saving a life was urgent. He did as instructed, and, miraculously, as soon as the medicated water touched Wang Siyuan’s wound, the bleeding stopped—even if it wasn’t fully healed, the blood ceased to flow.

Ye Feng was astonished and asked Huai Huai what was going on. Huai Huai explained that, used separately, these five medicines only had mild anti-inflammatory effects. However, in the future, a scientist had discovered by chance that when combined, they possessed an extraordinary bactericidal function. Although Ye Feng’s simple mixture didn’t reach the full effect, it was still far more potent than ordinary antibiotics.

Ye Feng checked Wang Siyuan’s temperature and found it had returned to normal. This concoction really was something.

Seeing that Wang Siyuan was stable, Ye Feng left him on the floor of the study, then went to his room for blankets, clothes, and a few battery-powered lamps to tidy up the secret chamber. For now, Wang Siyuan would have to stay there; if Sang Biao came back and couldn’t find him, who knew what he might do? It was too dangerous to leave Wang Siyuan outside.

Once Wang Siyuan was settled, Ye Feng cleaned the study. Despite having laid down a sheet, there were still traces of blood that needed to be scrubbed away quickly. After cleaning, he used the cover of night to dispose of everything.

Exhausted, Ye Feng collapsed onto the sofa. When he turned on the TV, he caught the New Year’s countdown. Glancing at the clock, he realized it was already midnight—a new year had arrived, almost without him noticing.

The countdown ended quickly, and the distant sound of firecrackers drifted in from outside. A new year had truly begun. Adding up the years, including his previous life, Ye Feng realized he was nearly twenty-eight now.

After the firecrackers, rain began to fall, as if heralding the new year’s arrival. The downpour battered the roof with a noise as chaotic as fireworks, drowning out even the voices on TV.

Drowsy, Ye Feng drifted off to sleep. He didn’t know how long he’d slept before he sensed someone calling him. Opening his eyes, he saw the TV was still on and no one else was around—then he remembered Huai Huai’s presence in his mind.

“What is it? I only just fell asleep after being up all night,” Ye Feng thought.

“That Wang Siyuan fellow has been awake for a while, but he’s very weak. You should make some porridge for him—he’s injured and hasn’t eaten in over two days. He needs energy, or he really won’t last. All your hard work last night will have been for nothing.”

Hearing this, Ye Feng got up to make porridge, asking Huai Huai about Wang Siyuan as he cooked. After all, Huai Huai should have finished reading Wang Siyuan’s memories last night.

As Ye Feng cooked, he suddenly felt a surge of information in his mind, and Wang Siyuan’s memories poured in. It turned out Huai Huai could directly copy one person’s memories to another, as long as the recipient’s mental strength was sufficient. Having lived two lifetimes, Ye Feng’s mind was stronger than most, saving Huai Huai the trouble of explaining everything.

As Ye Feng cooked and leafed through Wang Siyuan’s memories, he couldn’t help but admire the man’s courage—he’d actually dared to eavesdrop on the Ai family’s council meeting. Whether it was Ai family overconfidence or not, Wang Siyuan had managed to overhear their secrets more than once.

And now, all that knowledge fell into Ye Feng’s lap. As it turned out, the Ai family had joined an organization called Zangtian ten years ago. The members were all major domestic conglomerates and ambitious noble families, who had been coordinating resources together for years. Since Zangtian’s business was all legitimate, even though they raked in money hand over fist, the authorities could only investigate in secret and had found nothing concrete—only that the group seemed to be working on some kind of plan.

According to Wang Siyuan’s memories, the Ai family head, Ai Zhongtang, was an ambitious man. Since joining Zangtian, he had actively cooperated with the organization and climbed the ranks in just a few years. The exact position wasn’t clear, but it carried significant power.

Outwardly, the Ai family ranked near the bottom among Haifeng’s major clans, but in reality, their strength surpassed the combined power of the top three.

The reason Wang Siyuan was being hunted was because he had overheard details of Zangtian’s ongoing plan. The plan was called “Genesis,” though Wang Siyuan didn’t know the specifics. He had only heard that it aimed to swallow up Huaxia in economic and political spheres.

When Wang Siyuan realized what was at stake, he had gasped in shock, inadvertently giving himself away—and so his life on the run began.

This, of course, wasn’t Ye Feng’s main concern. Delving into memories from five years ago, he discovered that Wang Siyuan wasn’t yet the chief steward then, though he was already privy to many secrets.

Regarding the deaths of Ye Feng’s parents, Wang Siyuan didn’t know much—only that the sudden rise of the Ye family had made Zangtian lose control of Haifeng. Ai Zhongtang had hinted at a warning, but Ye Feng’s parents, at the peak of their power, had ignored him. In the end, Zangtian’s leaders ordered Ai Zhongtang to eliminate them; yet, before he could act, the couple died in a car accident. The cause was never discovered, and with both of them dead, the matter was simply dropped.

After scanning Wang Siyuan’s memories, Ye Feng felt both elated and disappointed. He was glad that he and Amy weren’t mortal enemies after all, but frustrated that he still didn’t know who had truly killed his parents.

All this had taken only a short time—thoughts moved swiftly in the mental domain, and the porridge was ready. Not wanting Wang Siyuan to die and create more trouble, Ye Feng hurried to the study with the porridge.

Entering the secret room, Ye Feng saw Wang Siyuan awake, staring at him with the nervous, wary look of a frightened lab rat. Understandably so—perhaps a man could face death once, but after being saved, even the bravest would lose some of their courage. Wang Siyuan was not as fearless as before. Seeing Ye Feng bring a bowl of porridge, his expression turned to puzzlement—Ye Feng didn’t look like a member of the Ai family, and he was just a young man.

“Who… are… you…” Wang Siyuan croaked weakly, his voice barely audible, a testament to his frailty.