Chapter 11 Underworld Clinic

Encten, City Lord's Mansion "Are you sure... all seven other gates... have been found?" Cough, cough... A young man—barely in his early twenties—sat in a chair, his face pale and fatigued. Though autumn had only just arrived, he was already wrapped in a white fur coat, his voice low and weak. "Of course, it's accurate! I'm the lord of Encten! Who the hell would dare lie to me?" The middle-aged man sitting in the city lord's seat let out a hearty laugh, his rough and boisterous demeanor completely at odds with his position. His eyes gleamed with a confidence—one filled with sheer arrogance. For a brief moment, the young man fell silent. Then, after a pause, he spoke again in a measured tone. "Honestly, I think it's worth sending someone to discreetly verify the information again." The city lord frowned. "Is that really necessary? I am the city lord! Who would dare lie to me?" "But everyone at that meeting was a city lord." The young man let out a weary sigh, rubbing his temples before coughing lightly again. The city lord hesitated. "Hmm... that's true! Alright, I'll leave this matter to you, then." "So... does that mean I'll get overtime pay?" The young man gazed at the city lord with an expression of helpless resignation. The city lord looked shocked. "You're my son, and you have the audacity to ask me about overtime pay?" "You tricked me into coming back to Encten by promising a high salary," the young man said in a deadpan tone. The city lord nodded matter-of-factly. "Three thousand dollars a month—isn't that high?" The young man locked eyes with his bandit-like father, holding his gaze in silence for a long moment. Then, with the air of a man resigning himself to fate, he sighed. "Fine. I'll take care of it. You go back to your game." "Great!" As if he'd been waiting for those exact words, the city lord immediately turned on his heel and strode toward the door, eager to escape before the young man could change his mind. "Oh, right, Tommy, don't forget to stop by the telecom office. The signal's been cutting in and out lately. Cost me quite a few games! We need to crack down on this negligence! If necessary, arrests should be made—justice must be served!" The city lord declared righteously. "My name is Thomas! Not Tommy!" His protest fell on deaf ears. The city lord simply chuckled, slipped out the door, and even had the nerve to close it behind him like a considerate father. For a moment, the vast City Lord's Mansion was left with only Thomas. Thomas sat there, deep in thought. "Do immortals really exist in this world? And if they do...what kind of price would it take to make them work for me? Or better yet... could I create a group of immortals of my own?" Thomas stood by the window, letting the sunlight bathe him as he enjoyed the rare warmth. His complexion slightly flushed as he stared at the sky, murmuring to himself. "Mageaf, Whioll, Golass... the corresponding Immortal Gates have all opened. My Encten should be next, right?" A faint worry appeared on his face. The whole situation had come so suddenly, leaving no time to prepare. In just three days, strange phenomena had occurred in all eight major cities. Countless people had witnessed it firsthand — one ancient, weathered gate after another slowly rising into the sky, accompanied by ethereal celestial music. The lords of these cities had hastily held a video conference overnight, inviting history professors from various academies to examine ancient texts in search of clues. Eventually, they found a few scattered hints in one particularly old manuscript. According to the text, this world was sealed with eight gates that connected to the Celestial Realm. One day, when all eight gates opened, the link between the mortal and celestial worlds would be fully restored. At that time... The Celestial Realm would hang above the mortal world like a suspended sky, and the immortals would descend to bestow their blessings. This would offer mortals the chance to embark on the path of cultivation and achieve immortality. The manuscript was incredibly old, with most of the text barely legible, making even partial interpretation a rare stroke of luck. The records were fragmented, yet still, one key detail emerged — the eight gates included one Main Gate and seven subsidiary gates. The seven subsidiary gates were responsible for establishing the connection to the Celestial Realm, while the Main Gate was the key to fully breaking the barrier between the two worlds. As of now, all seven subsidiary gates had already risen into the sky — except for the Main Gate, which remained motionless. And Encten... was the only major city where no celestial gate had yet appeared. Because of this, the eyes of every major city's leadership were now fixed on Encten, anxiously awaiting the moment when the Main Gate would finally ascend. Perhaps... It was just that the 'Main Gate' carried too much prestige, which was why it rose last. At least, that's what everyone kept telling themselves for comfort. "Anyway, I have to plan ahead. Encten has already become a target because of the 'Main Gate.'" Sigh. Cough, cough. "My lazy, unreliable father..." "Couldn't he have argued a bit more during the meeting? Who says the eight gates have to appear in the eight major cities? Especially when the one that's still missing... is the Main Gate." "Couldn't he have just made up some ancient legend about a small town and shifted the blame there?" With a sigh, Thomas tightened his fur coat, wrapping himself up warmly. He took a deep breath, then pushed the door open and left. ****** The dark truck cabin, bound hands, blocked mouth, and the terrifying Black Street... As the truck bounced along the rough road, Monkey felt a deep sense of despair for his future. It wasn't until the truck finally stopped, and the door opened, that Monkey saw a beam of sunlight shining on his face. At that moment, he felt an overwhelming urge to cry. He had no idea just how much he longed for the light! "Ugh..." "Ugh... Ugh..." Exhausted beyond belief, Monkey found some inner strength and began frantically wriggling his body in the cabin, emitting weak whimpers. His once-clear eyes, now filled with panic and desperation, looked at Hubert. "Hug? I thought you would suffocate from the lack of air circulation. You're still alive?" Hubert looked at Monkey in the cabin with surprise. He couldn't help but marvel, "Your vitality is incredible... you're truly the perfect 'patient'!" As if struck by an idea, a warm, friendly smile appeared on Hubert's face. He politely and gently pulled Monkey out of the truck. "Hello! Welcome to my home! The most prosperous area of Center Street... featuring the worst-performing shop!" Hubert thoughtfully removed the ropes binding Monkey's hands and eagerly shared his store with him. Monkey didn't even dare remove the rag stuffed in his mouth. He simply lifted his head, staring blankly ahead. It was a clinic, two stories high, looking quite exquisite and luxurious. On either side hung a wooden plaque, acting as couplets. The handwriting, however, was a bit messy, likely written by Hubert himself. "Miraculous Hands Revive the Spring, Daring to Treat Any Illness in the World." "A Healer's Compassion, Snatching Lives Back from the Road to the Underworld." In the center of the clinic, the sign read several bold words: Underworld Clinic! It might have been a coincidence, but the words on the sign were written in red ink, and it seemed that the brush pressure wasn't quite controlled. The ink had been a bit too much, causing excess ink to drip down in drops. So, overall, the sign gave off a strangely eerie feeling.