In this town, dubbed "Jianghu Town" by a group of wandering martial artists, the shortage of doctors couldn't even be described as shockingly scarce—there simply weren't any at all!

The opening of the Conscience Clinic had, quite unexpectedly, filled a gaping void in this little town.

And this was an outcome he had never anticipated.

Now, this was awkward.

It was only the second month since he had opened his shop.

"What are you yelling for? So loud—are you mourning someone? I'm brewing medicine for you right now! What's the rush?"

Interrupted in his melancholy, Ethan Brooks grew impatient and turned to shout.

His tone and manner were anything but polite—loud, brash, and harsh.

As a doctor—moreover, the only one, and an impatient, unwilling one at that—he was just that badass.

The two burly men in the shop looked aggrieved, not daring to utter a word for a long moment.

You were clearly just daydreaming and doing nothing—what medicine are you brewing?

You haven't even opened the medicine packet!

But since they needed his help, they didn't dare say a word, not even show anger. All they could do was swallow their grievances.

One of them was covered in blood, his chest sunken in—obviously, several ribs were broken.

"Damn it, if I ever get hurt again, just toss me in the mass grave—don't bring me here!"

The injured man muttered angrily under his breath.

The burly man who had brought him rolled his eyes. "Bro, that's the third time you've said that. The last two times, you still came..."

"It's humiliating! Damn humiliating!"

The man lying down was furious. "To think that I, Mr. Smith, am a well-known figure, and not only did I get my ribs broken on a job, I have to come to this black-hearted quack and get yelled at! Just thinking about it makes me want to die—I could just..."

At that moment, Ethan Brooks walked in, arms crossed, tilting his head and glancing sideways. "You could just what?"

A moment ago, Mr. Smith had been grumbling, but in an instant, he put on a different face. "I could just set up a longevity tablet for you, sir! Your healing hands are miraculous—I've been treated here several times... Truly... a divine doctor! Your medical skills are just—"

He gave a thumbs up, face full of flattery. "Truly a healer with a benevolent heart and a chivalrous spirit—a model for the ages..."

The other burly man: "..."

Ethan Brooks walked over with a stern face and pressed down on the sunken part of Mr. Smith's chest.

It was clear to the naked eye that he wasn't holding back.

Mr. Smith's face turned deathly pale, and a scream caught in his throat, his breath stopping for a moment.

"It's just three broken ribs—you won't die anytime soon..."

Ethan Brooks snorted. "How did you break them this time?"

"Last night... went on a job... cough cough... someone cut us off... the guy was ruthless, not only stole our job, but punched me too..."

Mr. Smith felt embarrassed, his voice growing weaker as he spoke.

Ruthless, huh?

Ethan Brooks felt annoyed and pressed even harder, making the broken bones crunch.

"Awwww~~~ mm... hiss hiss hiss..."

Mr. Smith was in agony, his face drained of color, but he still didn't dare scream out loud.

Ethan Brooks's annoyance was not without reason.

It was rare to get a simple job, and the target was conveniently close by. But when he went to take out the target, these two brothers, Mr. Smith and his companion, showed up to do the same job...

Were they trying to steal his thunder?

Dealing with such clueless people, Ethan Brooks wasn't about to be polite—so he gave him a punch...

Heaven knows, he had already held back, considering the guy had been treated at his clinic more than once...

Yes, the Mr. Smith now being treated for broken bones in Ethan Brooks's shop—his injuries were caused by the very doctor treating him...

One punch, three broken ribs.

Out of respect for a fellow Juntian Hand assassin, Ethan Brooks only punched him once.

Only broke three ribs.

He really did hold back!

Then he finished the job and left.

The reward for this job was a steamed bun, one mid-grade Yuan Power Pill, one mid-grade Fasting Pill, and one low-grade Marrow Cleansing Pill.

"...Mission completed. Completed by: Grace Smith. Serial number: 173,577. Rank: Iron Badge."

Ranked over 170,000 among Iron Badges...

Grace Smith was Ethan Brooks's registered assassin name.

Yes, his stage name.

All things in this world are cruel.

Only death is forever Grace Smith.

Of course, others didn't see it that way—they didn't have Ethan Brooks's depth of thought.

They just thought it was perverse that a ruthless killer would choose the name Grace Smith...

What a damn freak...

(4)

Iron Badge!

Yes, after ten years of hard work, ten years of risking his life,

Ethan Brooks had successfully advanced from a paper-card-level assassin of Juntian Hand, through the wooden badge, and further up to become an Iron Badge assassin.

The badge had become iron, an iron-colored Iron Badge.

The badge evolved automatically—no need to worry about that.

Ethan Brooks was quite satisfied with his progress.

He was even thinking of washing his hands of the business and leaving the jianghu behind.