The moment Lady Yan gave her acknowledgement, the silence outside shattered like a dam breaking. The patients who had been fidgeting nervously in the corridor surged forward.
"I'll go first!" cried an old man clutching his chest.
"No, I've been waiting longer!" a woman in patched robes argued, nearly stumbling as she tried to squeeze past.
The senior servant raised her hand. "Enough! One by one. He will see you all. Stand in a proper line!"
With order reluctantly restored, the first patient was ushered into Mo Han's chamber. The moment the door closed, the murmurs began—everyone pressing their ears closer, waiting to hear if the strange healer truly had the skill.
Inside, Mo Han worked swiftly. His hands, infused with subtle threads of aura, pressed and traced pressure points, unraveling illnesses with precision. He didn't waste-time with unnecessary chatter.
