NEC Chapter 13: Refused Treatment

The doctor’s hut was tucked in the southeast corner of Six-Leaf Grove.

The camp’s witch doctor was a plump old man. According to Kaga, who patted his chest with confidence, this elder, respectfully called “Big Eye,” had lived in the camp since Kaga was a scampering colt. His healing methods were “weird and quirky” but effective, a “master of all cures” for both man and beast.

Merchants and adventurers, whether nursing headaches or broken limbs, always sought out Big Eye.

“Uncle Big Eye’s amazing!” Kaga boasted. “If he says he can fix you, you’re as good as healed!”

Chen Mo casually asked, “And… if he can’t?”

Kaga replied without hesitation, “Can’t fix you? Then you return to the Earth Mother’s embrace, obviously!”

Chen Mo: “…”

Following the young centaur through the wooden door, Chen Mo’s eyes took a moment to adjust to the dim light.

In the room’s center stood a large table cluttered with clay jars, ceramic bottles, wooden buckets, crystal vials, and tin cans of all shapes and sizes. Colorful “herbs” soaked inside—some resembling vines, others fur, and a few looking suspiciously like organic tissue.

In a corner, a half-full crucible bubbled lazily, glowing murky green under the light, with what looked like bat-wing fragments floating within.

Deep in the room, an old wicker chair cradled a hefty figure, chest rising and falling with snoring.

“Big Eye Grandpa! I brought someone to treat injuries! Wake up!” Kaga stomped his hooves on the soft wooden floor.

The old man slowly turned his head.

Seeing him, Chen Mo understood the “Big Eye” nickname. One eye was round and gleaming, like a peeled crystal grape, full of life; the other was a squinted slit, like a shriveled raisin, barely noticeable.

Big Eye greeted Kaga with a jovial smile, his plump face creasing like a flower. But when his gaze landed on Chen Mo, and especially on Little White trailing behind, his smile froze as if encased in ice.

His big eye scanned Chen Mo up and down, lingering on Little White, before he asked in a slow, peculiar tone, “From Black Crow Castle?”

Chen Mo’s internal alarms blared, sensing trouble.

He nodded but quickly added, “Yes, but I’ve left. I’m heading to the southern continent to join relatives.”

Kaga, oblivious to the tense shift, tilted his head, ears flicking. “Huh? Big Eye Grandpa, how’d you know he’s from Black Crow Castle?”

“Hmph! I can smell that lingering stench of necromancers from eight yards away, seeping from their bones!”

Chen Mo gathered the old man had some grudge against necromancers, but needing help, he pressed on: “Sir, I’m a summoner mage, not a necromancer.”

He emphasized “summoner,” highlighting the critical distinction.

On the Starry Continent, the difference mattered. Summoner mages communed with native undead from the underworld, classified as neutral and tolerated in mainstream nations.

Necromancers, however, reanimated real-world corpses, turning them into mindless puppets.

Most beings couldn’t stomach the idea of their bodies being used post-mortem, especially women, who feared being raised as mindless husks for unsavory purposes, making necromancers their sworn enemies.

Thus, necromancers were infamous, reviled outcasts, targeted for destruction.

Chen Mo didn’t want that label.

“Same thing!” Big Eye waved a stubby hand dismissively, then pointed at Chen Mo, palm up, then down, with clear disdain. “Here for treatment? Ten gold coins, cash upfront! Not a copper less, no credit!”

“Ten gold coins?!”

Chen Mo repeated, stunned, glancing between Big Eye and Kaga, unsure if the old man’s hatred for necromancers extended to summoners or if he was just price-gouging.

Ten gold coins was astronomical.

On the Starry Continent, limited mining and gold’s rarity made it far more valuable than on Blue Star.

In the Greenspine Kingdom, where Chen Mo was, the kingdom’s own coins were scarce; the standard was the Sky Empire’s currency.

The exchange was roughly base-100: one hundred coppers to a silver, one hundred silvers to a gold.

Based on Chen Mo’s rough market estimates, one copper equaled about two yuan, one silver two hundred, one gold twenty thousand.

Ten gold coins? That’s two hundred thousand.

Little Blondie, a Zircon heir, carried only one gold and a handful of silvers.

Ten gold coins wasn’t just overcharging—it was a refusal to treat.

Chen Mo swallowed his frustration, cleared his throat, and said, “Sorry to bother you. I can’t afford that. I’ll take my leave.”

Facing Big Eye, one hand in his pocket, Chen Mo backed out of the strange-smelling hut.

As he reached the door, Big Eye’s large eye glinted, and he muttered, “Kid, a word of advice:

stay clear of that old necromancer at Black Crow Castle…”

Chen Mo didn’t respond, quietly exiting. Kaga followed, ears and tail drooping.

Seeing the centaur’s dejected look, Chen Mo’s frustration eased. He forced a reassuring smile and patted Kaga’s sturdy shoulder. “It’s fine, not your fault.”

Reality wasn’t perfect, and this was a wake-up call. Black Crow Castle, always aloof from surrounding nations and factions, might have some shady ties.

Comforted, Kaga grew more ashamed, pawing the ground anxiously, kicking up dust as if trying to dig a pit to bury the old man who’d shamed the future centaur warrior.

Suddenly, Kaga stomped hard, smacking his furry head with a palm, the thud echoing like a skull rattling!

“I remember now!”

His eyes lit up. “Two days ago, I guided a team of adventurers from the north! They had a healer!”

“Come on, I’ll take you to them!”

>>> NEXT CHAPTER