Mo Han stepped into the Healing Tower of the Eternal Night Mansion. The air inside smelled faintly of crushed herbs and burned incense, heavy with the weight of countless attempts to treat wounds, diseases, and damaged meridians.
At the counter sat a plump, middle-aged woman in plain servant's robes—her face stern, her eyes sharp. She looked Mo Han up and down before glancing at the wooden token in his hand.
"You're here for the Healing Division?" she asked flatly.
Mo Han nodded and placed the token before her.
She studied the carved seal, then her eyes softened a little. "Good. Not many of your type come here. Most disciples only want to flaunt their techniques before the rich, or save their aura for competitions. The Healing Tower? They rarely touch it. The common folk who come here don't pay enough, so the disciples ignore them. It has been days since we had a proper healer attend the common lines."
