So at this moment, he could only grit his teeth, hastily pack up his things, cover up his tracks in passing, and, with extreme difficulty and even more caution than a thief, inch his way step by step back home. Fortunately, the haunted reputation of the The Sullivan Family residence was exceptionally well-known in this area. More importantly, Jason Allen discovered that as long as he gritted his teeth and endured the pain, things like climbing over walls and sneaking around were not a problem at all. So, he actually managed to sneak back into his own room without anyone noticing.

This distance of less than three li took Jason Allen a full two or three hours to cover. By the time he finally collapsed onto his bed, cold sweat had soaked through even his outer garments.

However, he also noticed that his originally rather frail body had undergone some changes. Most notably, as long as he could endure the pain, his body—which seemed to have reached its limit—could always be pushed to squeeze out more strength. After a brief cleanup, hurriedly changing out of his bloodstained clothes and hiding his spoils, Jason Allen finally relaxed and promptly passed out on the bed again.

***

Once he relaxed, he slept so deeply that he lost all sense of time, until Jason Allen was awakened by an indescribable aura.

Then he heard a series of delighted exclamations:

“He’s awake, he’s awake!”

This voice sounded extremely familiar to Jason Allen, but his nerves and mind were so sluggish that it took several minutes before he could even begin to match the voice to a person.

At this moment, Jason Allen's state was the complete opposite of the terrifying precision and calm he had shown when fighting Frank Easton. To put it bluntly, it was like the difference between an elderly man shuffling along and a Ferrari with the pedal to the floor.

He felt a warm current flow down his throat, and then his stomach began to churn violently. Jason Allen mechanically and blankly opened his eyes to look around. His expression was still dazed, but no matter what, his brain—like a rusted machine that hadn’t run in ages—was finally starting to operate, albeit with much creaking and grinding, shaking off rust as it slowly and steadily picked up speed.

The first sense to return was taste. The taste buds on his tongue identified the hot chicken soup being poured into his mouth. Although it was heavy with the flavors of angelica root and codonopsis, the delicious aroma of the food instantly revived his throat and digestive system, making them twitch as if coming back to life.

Jason Allen immediately found the hand holding the bowl and pouring soup into his mouth far too slow. He raised his own hands, spasming as he grabbed the bowl and poured the soup into his mouth himself. The people beside him cried out in alarm, but no one could restrain him as he acted like a madman.

Not until Jason Allen had finished off everything he could find nearby—including seven soup cakes, an entire stewed old hen, eight cornbread buns meant for the servants’ midnight snack, and half a pot of wheat porridge—did he finally settle down.

At this point, Jason Allen's unfocused gaze finally began to gather—familiar, exquisitely crafted rosewood bed, pale yellow lake silk canopy, the faint scent of sandalwood in the air, and several extremely familiar and astonished faces. These things slowly matched up with certain memories and thoughts in his mind. At last, Jason Allen returned to normal, opened his mouth woodenly, and said:

“I... you all...”

Seeing him speak, the now much thinner Mr. Allen finally let out a long sigh of relief. The women nearby were chanting Buddhist prayers, genuinely relieved as they said:

“Heavens have mercy, he’s finally awake!”

At this point, Jason Allen finally came to his senses, and the aches and pains in his body surged up in waves. He slumped weakly against the pillow and gave a wry smile:

“How long did I sleep?”

Old Butler was extremely agitated, his lips trembling so much he couldn’t speak, his hands shaking as well. In Jason Allen's eyes, it looked as if he was holding up just one finger. Jason Allen was slightly taken aback and said:

“One day, that’s not too bad.”

The now much thinner Mr. Allen gave a bitter smile:

“It’s been almost three days. You fell ill on the fifteenth, and now it’s already the nineteenth.”

Jason Allen was shocked as well—he’d been unconscious for so long? Just then, he heard Old Butler beside him reach out for a cup of water, take a sip, and finally calm down, muttering:

“You have no idea, young master. This time your illness was truly dangerous, no less severe than that time over a year ago (when you crossed over). What’s even stranger is, we called in three doctors to examine you, and each one diagnosed a different illness and prescribed a different medicine. It was truly worrying.”

Now that he was full, Jason Allen leaned against the wall and closed his eyes, sitting down again. The aftereffects struck once more—his mind was a complete mess, utterly different from the previous clarity when everything seemed under control. Yet, after sleeping for several days, he still didn’t feel the slightest bit sleepy.

So, the only thing Jason Allen could do at this moment was stretch out his finger and massage the completely numb spot on his face, keeping his mind blank—or rather, letting his chaotic thoughts drift aimlessly, slowly settling and clearing up.