Facing an Ancient God for a Year

Chapter 1261: Chapter 1259: Loss of Image (Part 3)

“No, what does it have to do with nightmares?”

However, this seemingly casual inquiry immediately put Mrs. Winslow on high alert.

Her previously polite tone changed abruptly as she firmly denied it.

So it really is connected to the widespread occurrence of nightmares.

Walking all the way here, Fu Qian hadn’t encountered anything to confirm specific dates, but Mrs. Winslow’s reaction at this moment revealed a wealth of information.

Although the Celestial Sphere Sect preferred secrecy, with so many victims of nightmares, it would undoubtedly be extremely challenging to completely block the flow of information.

Even Mrs. Harper, with her gray hair, could theorize conspiracies about certain things, so it wasn’t surprising that the wealthy and well-connected Winslow family had better insight.

Otherwise, she wouldn’t have reacted so strongly to the mention of “nightmares.”

The unusual changes in her daughter, when combined with a nightmare encounter, would undeniably intensify the Hunter’s interest.

Deciding on this secret diagnosis, regardless of its genuineness, Mrs. Winslow was clearly unwilling to let such rumors surface.

At this moment, the harshness in her gaze hinted that she was ready to expel Fu Qian at any moment.

“At first glance, there don’t seem to be any obvious physical issues.”

Fu Qian, however, was in no way influenced by the tense doctor-patient atmosphere and proceeded unaffected, taking out several tools and comparing them against the patient’s body.

“Of course, I still need to perform further tests. So, do you wish to continue?”

…

Among the items Fu Qian retrieved from his medical kit was a slender needle glinting coldly and exuding a sharp, chilling presence.

Truth be told, from his perspective, the needle looked more like an instrument of torture than a piece of medical equipment, and Mrs. Winslow evidently shared this sentiment.

Staring at the needle tip, which seemed capable of piercing through a skull, and combining it with Fu Qian’s resolute response, Mrs. Winslow appeared momentarily unsure of how to react.

“Apologies for my wife’s earlier reaction. Please proceed.”

Amid the silence, a nearby door suddenly opened, and another voice answered for her, accompanied by the entrance of a figure.

The man appeared around the same age as Mrs. Winslow, had well-groomed, thin mustaches, and a slightly gaunt, dark complexion.

There was no doubt—this was the elusive Mr. Winslow.

Compared to his wife, he was visibly much more composed.

After walking to her side and standing next to her, he did not forget to lightly pat his wife’s hand, soothing her emotions.

The reasoning behind his previous absence wasn’t hard to discern.

Although unclear about the Sect’s stance on harboring contamination, the nature of what they were currently doing likely violated some taboos. Having only one person step forward might offer more room for maneuver in certain situations.

In any case, having a pragmatic family member involved made a tremendous difference.

“The left hand.”

Fu Qian silently commended the situation before gesturing towards Jane without wasting a moment.

Though she hadn’t spoken throughout, Jane had clearly been listening attentively. Now, blinking her wide eyes, she cooperatively extended her hand.

However, no amount of innocent expressions would compel Fu Qian to hold back.

The next moment, the needle was swiftly plunged into her slightly slender middle finger.

As a specialist in flesh and blood, his choice of the puncture site was impeccable.

Even for such a delicate noblewoman, her blood flowed readily under his precise actions, every drop expertly collected into a spoon that had earlier been used for mirror gazing—without a single spillage.

“Is this bloodletting? Will this method be effective?”

Such was Fu Qian’s finesse in execution that instead of questioning the appropriateness of his medical tools, the Winslow couple immediately attempted to understand his purpose.

“Further confirmation is needed; it hasn’t reached the treatment phase yet.”

Fixing his gaze on the spoon filled with crimson liquid, Fu Qian repeated his earlier statement.

His unwavering composure further cemented his role as a seasoned professional.

Far from displeased, the Winslow couple fell silent, beginning to reflect on the impropriety of questioning an expert.

…

“Thank you.”

When the bleeding from Jane’s finger ceased, Fu Qian’s container was just full.

After motioning for her to retract her hand, Fu Qian shifted his focus entirely away from the patient and onto the blood sample.

It wasn’t to mix in odd solvents or liquids; instead, he brought it directly up to his nose and took a sniff.

The fragrance of blood belonging to a remarkably healthy young woman—yet the issues seemed rather severe.

At that moment, he let out a faint sigh.

“Doctor, have you discovered anything?”

Although unable to comprehend this peculiar method of olfactory analysis, the Winslow couple had lost their ability to maintain silence.

“No.”

Fu Qian slightly shook his head, speaking the truth.

But therein lay the problem.

His mission was to purify the “Blasphemous Blood” within Miss Winslow.

The simplest scenario would be her flesh and blood truly suffering from some form of contamination, resulting in the peculiar appearance of her eyes.

In such a case, even without being a frequent practitioner of treatment, some targeted interventions would likely resolve the issue without much difficulty.

However, the reality was that everything seemed normal to his senses, from the moment he entered the room up until now.

Even after isolating and examining the blood sample, nothing seemed amiss.

Which pointed to a less-than-ideal possibility—that the term “Blasphemous Blood” wasn’t a literal descriptor but rather an abstract conceptual reference to her condition.

And abstraction, elusive even to Fu Qian’s expertise, inevitably evoked thoughts of the “mandates” he had already encountered several times.

If the contamination represented this deeper level of desecration, Miss Winslow’s chances of recovery would be significantly more daunting.

Of course, this didn’t entirely equate to the difficulty of completing the mission.

The containment protocols merely mandated the purification of Blasphemous Blood; they never specified the target’s survival.

After all, he had just witnessed a professional purification technique earlier today.

Theoretically, if Miss Winslow were to be entirely annihilated, wouldn’t her Blasphemous Blood be cleansed in the process?

Still, the morality of a physician must prevail; such drastic measures should only ever be considered as a final recourse.

He wasn’t the kind to prescribe antibiotics at the first sign of illness.

…

“She’s not ill…”

In fact, it wasn’t just Fu Qian. At this moment, upon hearing the expert diagnosis, even the patient’s family seemed far from reassured.

Mr. Winslow appeared slightly calmer, but his wife was already mumbling in a state of unease.

This reaction was easy to understand—there had to be some explanation for Miss Winslow’s condition. If it wasn’t illness, that left the unnerving option of something akin to malevolent contamination.

At that point, it would fall to the Cult Hunters to administer treatment.

Clearly, the Winslow couple had hoped the diagnosis would uncover some abnormalities—ones belonging to the realm of ordinary humans.

“Don’t worry; this is just a preliminary examination.”

Thus, Fu Qian reassured them naturally.

“Further analysis is required.”

Further analysis?

The remark drew puzzled expressions, but with hope that there might still be a solution, Mrs. Winslow visibly perked up.

Of course, that sense of relief lasted only half a second.

The next moment, they watched in stunned disbelief as the highly-paid physician raised the spoon filled with blood and swallowed it in one gulp.