After his breakthrough into the Grandmaster realm, Lin Haoran's life on the mountain had taken on a new rhythm.
With his body as tough as rock, his confidence soared. he felt that now he had enough strength and pressure if in case his [basic regeneration] got leaked as an immortal skill, so now he can go and pursue his next plan of collecting destiny points, but this also needs an opportune time after all he can't just go around and announced to people that he was a grandmaster now and was free to heal people with injuries!! after all 9 year old grandmaster was too crazy and above all an immortal technique that could be practice by martial artist was too alluring.
So Lin haoran waited for an importunity and it wasn't too long for an opportunity to present itself, a few days later something happened.
...
The sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows over the ridges of the mountain forest. The rustle of leaves, the chirp of distant birds, and the occasional crunch of boots over underbrush were the only sounds breaking the serene silence. A group of five villagers moved cautiously through the woods, armed with hunting spears, bows, and a single rusty blade among them. Their eyes scanned the forest floor for rabbit tracks, their minds focused on gathering food for the coming week.
"This should be far enough," muttered Old Fang, the self-appointed leader of the group. "The boars come here around this time."
"Yeah, but something feels off today," said Yao, a younger hunter with quick eyes and a sharp sense for danger.
They hadn't been wrong. There were signs—too many broken branches, scattered droppings, a silence that felt just a bit too thick. But the group pressed on, greed and necessity tugging at their heels.
That's when the growl came.
Low. Deep. Guttural. It rolled through the trees like a wave of thunder.
Before any of them could react, the underbrush to their right exploded with motion. A streak of yellow and black blur lunged out—the mountain tiger, thick with muscle and rage, its eyes glowing faintly with the glint of madness.
"Scatter!" Old Fang shouted, but it was too late.
The beast pounced on the nearest man, Li Chao, its fangs sinking into his shoulder before swiping its massive paw across his chest. Blood sprayed as Li Chao let out a gut-wrenching scream, then fell limp under the tiger's weight.
The others turned to run, but not fast enough. Yao was next, caught by the thigh as the tiger roared and lunged again, tearing through flesh like paper. He fell, screaming, clutching his bleeding leg.
The others managed to escape, barely. They didn't look back, not until they were sure they had lost the beast in the thicker part of the woods.
Breathless, bruised, and bloodied, they finally stumbled down the slope and into the village, shouting for help. The villagers gathered, panic spreading like wildfire. Two men were missing—one dead, they feared, and one barely clinging to life.
"Go get the Martial Officer!" someone yelled. "Quick! Get that Lin Haoran kid!"
"No use," another muttered. "He's just a boy…"
"Idiot! Didn't you hear what the elder said? He was assigned here by the city martial bureau! You think they'd waste a spot for a brat?"
It didn't take long for the truth to weigh out the doubt. A group of villagers rushed up the mountain path, carrying Yao on a hastily made stretcher, his leg soaked red and his face pale as death.
By the time they reached the crater, their shouts had already reached Lin Haoran's ears.
He stepped out of the shed calmly, his expression unreadable. Though he looked like nothing more than a child playing dress-up in martial robes, his eyes were steady—and sharper than anyone in the group expected.
"Put him down," Lin Haoran said, his voice flat but firm.
They hesitated.
"Now," he repeated.
The stretcher hit the ground gently. Yao's breath was weak, his consciousness flickering.
One of the older men stepped forward. "Martial Officer Lin… we don't know if you can, but—if there is anything you could do-"
Lin Haoran knelt by Yao's side and look at the mangled leg in front of him.
He didn't respond right away. He didn't need to.
For the first time Lin Haoran would let the villager see what he was truly capable of.
The villagers watched with bated breath as Lin Haoran knelt beside Yao's nearly unconscious body.
The boy looked calm—far too calm for someone about to touch torn flesh and broken bone. His hand then hovered a few inches over the bleeding leg, fingers spread open, palm facing down.
[Basic regeneration]
In the game, this ability was almost considered worthless due to its extremely long healing time and extremely long cooldown period of 10 minutes, after all the game was pure fighting base and no one had the time to wait for 1 or 2 hours to heal themselves mid fight and wait for a 10 minutes cooldown!!
However, this was real life and the most of the drawbacks and the reason this ability went extinct in players no longer applies here.
And since in the game, the ability could heal 1hp/minute, Lin haoran was quite interested in seeing how it would perform on an average person who only likely have 1 points in physique (10Hp)
A soft glow, slowly radiate from Lin haoran's palm as he activated the ability
It wasn't flashy, nothing dramatic or divine.
Just a faint shimmer around Lin Haoran's hand, like the ripples over heated stone or the glint of sunlight passing through clean water. The villagers gasped. Some leaned in. One old woman even whispered a prayer under her breath, unsure if this was healing or a prelude to death.
And then they saw it.
The torn muscle began to knit back together. Not instantly—but clearly. The torn skin pulled inward, the color slowly returned to Yao's pale face.
The bleeding stopped first. Then the bruising faded, like ink being pulled back into a brush. The shattered part of the thigh visibly shifted beneath the skin with a muted crack, re-aligning into its natural place. The torn gash began to seal itself, smooth and pink like fresh scar tissue.
Someone gasped.
"By the ancestors…"
"No way… I must be dreaming," another whispered, rubbing his eyes.
"That's… That's not medicine! That's not even martial arts! What is that?"
One of the older men stumbled backward, eyes wide. "Immortal art… it has to be…"
Even Yao, barely conscious, opened his eyes slowly and blinked in confusion. "It… it doesn't hurt anymore…"
The entire healing process took only 10 minutes!! in under 10 minutes, the mangle mash of legs had completely heal!!!
Lin Haoran stood up, brushing his robes lightly as if all he did was pat some dust off a log.
"Give him food and rest," he said. "He'll be fine."
But the villagers weren't listening. They were too busy staring at the leg that had just been minutes away from needing amputation—and now looked like it had only suffered a rough scrape.
...
The villagers left the mountain in silence.
Not because they were mourning—no, they were stunned. Dazed. As if someone had taken their understanding of the world and quietly flipped it upside down.
They kept glancing back at the small shed where Lin Haoran had returned to, half-expecting it to vanish like a mirage. But it remained there, humble and unassuming, like none of them had just witnessed the impossible.
Even after they reached the foot of the mountain, they couldn't stop talking about it.
"That leg… it was broken—shattered even! I heard the crack!"
"I saw the blood! it poured like water!"
"And now he's walking like nothing happened! Did you see him walking?"
"Walking? He was jogging! Said he was hungry and wanted some duck soup!"
As they re-entered the village, their excitement stirred up a crowd. Curious neighbors swarmed in, only for jaws to drop at the sight of Yao, not only alive, but without so much as a limp.
The disbelief was infectious.
"Wait, wait… are you saying that boy healed him? The little one from the mountain?"
"No way. You're lying—Yao was half-dead when you carried him out!"
"Half? He was three-quarters, I'd say!"
Someone laughed, albeit with a tinge of unease. "If that kid can bring back a man from that, should we try dragging back the one that tiger actually finished off? Maybe he can pull him out from the belly of the beast too!"
A moment of silence followed the joke—then a gruff voice snapped back, "Don't speak nonsense! That boy… he's not ordinary. Maybe he's not even human."
They turned toward the speaker—an old man who rarely talked much unless he was serious. His face was stern, eyes squinting toward the mountain.
"Didn't the ancient tales speak of gods walking among men?" he said slowly.
"Months ago, we saw one with our own eyes… a giant god, taller than the mountains. Who's to say that boy isn't something like that? Disguised… hidden… maybe even sent by heaven to watch over this land."
That thought sank deep into the crowd. Laughter died. Chatter quieted.
They all turned once again, this time not with doubt or awe—but a budding reverence.
Somewhere on that mountain… was a boy who might be more than just a boy.