Because above that are bronze, silver, gold, jade, amethyst, king, emperor, exalted, god, and saint ranks...

Ethan Brooks thought to himself... If I don't get some kind of cheat, maybe I could struggle my way up to silver, but as for those other ranks... I probably won't live long enough to see them.

Maybe in this lifetime, I'll never make it to those ranks, and I'll just end up as one of those ranks myself.

This line of work is just too dangerous.

After all, those are just the assassin rankings within 钧天手.

The more common martial artist rankings out in the world... ahem, Ethan Brooks hasn't really paid much attention to those things yet.

...

"Are you ready?"

"Then I'm going to start, okay?"

As soon as Ethan Brooks finished speaking, he immediately got to work, not giving the other party any time to react.

His movements were quick but rough as he set Mr. Smith's broken bones one by one, putting them back in place.

This was basic procedure, and Ethan Brooks could handle it.

During the process, Mr. Smith's miserable screams were earth-shattering.

This doctor's treatment methods were as rough and direct as slaughtering a pig...

After all this tossing around, Mr. Smith's face turned waxy yellow, sweat the size of soybeans covered his forehead, his eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets, and he kept gasping with his mouth open, occasionally letting out heartfelt screams.

Crack, crack...

"They're set. It was just a single break, not several. This kind of fracture heals quickly. You're really lucky."

Ethan Brooks wiped his hands and offered some rare words of comfort, his tone unusually warm. — Heh, who would've thought.

Poor Mr. Smith couldn't even speak now, his moans weak and feeble, completely unable to feel any of that so-called warmth.

I'm in this state and you still say I'm lucky...

Ethan Brooks didn't waste any more words and went to grab a few herbs.

He remembered that two or three of them were actually for the right symptoms; as for the others... well, none of them would kill anyone, especially coptis— the more the better. That stuff is best for clearing heat and fire, perfect for calming the pent-up anger of these guys who risk their lives for money.

Done!

Smack!

A slap landed squarely on the wound.

Amid Mr. Smith's sudden, high-pitched, and fluctuating wails, Ethan Brooks said breezily, "All done! Rest up for a few days and you'll be back to being a vigorous, dragon-like hero... Meeting me is really your good fortune."

Mr. Smith trembled, waves of pain still surging through him, nearly passing out from the agony.

That slap of yours almost made it so I'd have to wait twenty years to be a hero again... What great fortune, huh!

His brother Mr. Smith on the side, though uninjured, was sweating buckets from fright... This way of treating injuries was just too horrifying!

Conscience Clinic...

Damn it, this clinic really is heartless...

"How much?"

"Just give me five hundred taels of silver," Ethan Brooks said lightly, wiping his hands.

"Fi... five hundred taels?"

Mr. Smith's face changed, and he groaned, "You might as well change your name. Don't call it Conscience Clinic, call it Heartless Clinic..."

"Even if we sold both our bone marrows, we wouldn't have five hundred taels..."

Ethan Brooks raised an eyebrow, displeased: "What are you saying? I have skillful hands and a benevolent heart, always charge fair prices, never cheat anyone, so how is it heartless when it comes to you? This clinic doesn't do credit. If you think it's expensive, you don't have to come next time, but this time... you still have to pay. By the way, aren't you two supposed to be iron-ranked assassins of some 'Hand'? How come you can't even come up with a mere five hundred taels? Not even between the two of you??"

These two had been discussing openly since they came in, not avoiding or keeping anything secret. Even if Ethan Brooks covered his ears, he could hear their conversation clearly. Now he took the opportunity to probe, going with the flow.

But at the same time, he was baffled: How can they be so careless about secrecy, so brazen— and they're supposed to be assassins? And at the same rank as me, iron-ranked assassins?

I've never even said I was an assassin, not even hinted at it, right?

"Can't even come up with five hundred taels— what a disgrace to that 'Hand'!"

Ethan Brooks's tone grew even more contemptuous.

We're all iron rank, yet I have enough money to open a shop, even have a decent net worth, and you two are this broke!?

Mr. Smith was so aggrieved he was about to cry: "You said it yourself, we're just iron-ranked assassins... Iron rank is nothing! The lowest of the low, not worth mentioning, not even worth hearing about. Having that much money would be a miracle..."

Damn!

Ethan Brooks's face darkened.

You guys are nothing, but I can't be nothing!

You can call yourselves trash all you want, but how can I be lumped in with you?

Beside him, Mr. Smith continued to complain: "How much can an iron rank make? And we just got promoted... Damn, on our second job, big bro already got three ribs broken... Make money? Where are we supposed to make money? This whole medical bill is a total loss... Iron rank, iron rank is worth nothing..."

Just iron rank!?

Iron rank is worth nothing?

Ethan Brooks felt like he'd been stabbed again, his chest suddenly tight and uncomfortable. Even though he knew that iron rank really wasn't much in the 钧天手 assassin hierarchy, hearing it from someone else still made him feel bad.