After I Am died, You Tell Me This Is A Life Simulation? - Chapter 2

Chapter 2: A Peaceful End! The Virtuous Healer!

Fang Han had set his goal. The first problem to solve was money.

When he had first arrived in this world, even eating was an issue. He could only look for work in the small town. With his literacy and math skills, he barely managed to find a bookkeeping job at a restaurant. That allowed him a bit of stability.

But that only covered his daily needs. Saving money for travel was extremely difficult.

It took him three years to save up enough.

It wasn’t that Fang Han was stupid or couldn’t think of ways to earn money—it was that, in this world, trying to do anything as an undocumented person was just too damn hard.

The bitterness of it all was beyond words.

After finally saving up the travel expenses, he spent over half a year following a group of traveling merchants to reach Mount Wuliang in Dali territory.

The journey to find the Blessed Land of Langhuan was another bizarre adventure.

First, he was mistaken for a spy from the Shennong Gang by the Wuliang Sword Sect. It took a lot of pleading to avoid a beating, but he was still forced to stay and work for the sect.

Helpless, he stayed obedient for a year and a half. Finally, during a conflict between the Wuliang Sword Sect and the Shennong Gang, he found a chance to sneak away.

After wandering and searching through twists and turns, he finally found the Blessed Land of Langhuan. But before Fang Han could rejoice, he was shocked to discover that the divine manuals were already gone.

Years of planning—all for nothing.

Well, to be fair, he had mentally prepared for this possibility.

He had wasted too much time. Opportunities wouldn’t wait for him. Without the ability to claim them, of course, no one else would beat him to it.

Still, spending years of effort and ending up empty-handed, of course, he felt terrible.

Fang Han was dumbfounded. He searched the Blessed Land again and again in refusal to give up, but found nothing. In the end, he could only accept the truth.

This setback didn’t make him lose all hope. He quickly bounced back.

But luck—luck was a fickle, mysterious bastard.

He later set his sights on the Jiuyang and Jiuyin manuals. He crossed mountains and valleys, traversing Chongshan and Zhongnan regions—but not a single attempt succeeded.

Just as he had predicted: g, ing to Shaolin, he had neither money nor fame. To them, he was just another commoner. Aside from burning incense, he couldn’t do a thing.

As for the Ancient Tomb, he circled aroefully, barely avoiding the Quanzhen Daoists’ patrols. But when he saw the bottomless dark pool, Fang Han sucked in a cold breath and gave up on the spot.

Repeated failures, combined with numerous events during his travels, gradually wore Fang Han down. The passion in his heart faded.

By then, he was already thirty.

His martial arts couldn’t even be called basic—it was utter trash.

Since he couldn’t obtain divine manuals, Fang Han thought, why not just honestly seek out a master?

Take it slow. Start with the basics. At least it wouldn’t be a total waste.

But again, things didn’t go his way.

Most sects recruited young disciples, rooted in their traditions, and cultivated them from early on.

Someone like Fang Han, over thirty, whose meridians were already set, had long missed the ideal time to train. With his unknown background, he was unlikely to be accepted.

There was an option to be a registered disciple, but that required a hefty payment.

And even then, a registered disciple could only learn the most basic of martial arts. Anything deeper would be out of reach—he wouldn’t qualify.

This kind of arrangement wasn’t really for true martial seekers, but rather for people caught up in jianghu feuds or looking for backing.

This didn’t work. That didn’t either.

He fell into a deadlock.

Fang Han had nothing left to say. Finally, he gave up on martial arts and quietly returned to Linshui County.

By then, he had wandered the world for over ten years. His initial passion had long since worn away. What kept him going was just a lingering unwillingness.

Once he accepted reality, he felt a strange kind of freedom.

Since he couldn’t obtain it, he would walk away from it.

It wasn’t running away. It was that, after seeing so much over the years, he had grown used to the endless strife in the martial world. Feuds, revenge, drawn swords at a single word…

Beneath the glamorous surface, it was a deadly, perilous place.

Originally, he had wanted the divine manuals to protect himself in this chaotic world. If it had worked out, that would’ve been fine. But now, when he couldn’t even defend himself, naturally, he wanted to stay far away from it.

So he returned to that remote little county town and decided to live a quiet, stable life.

And to do that, he needed work.

After some thought, he found a job at a clinic. He worked diligently and humbly, eventually becoming the apprentice of the old doctor there, learning medicine.

As the saying goes, medicine and martial arts are connected. Deep down, Fang Han still harbored some lingering hope.

He figured that through studying medicine, he might gain insights into martial arts too.

And so, the years passed-decadesdecades . The old doctor had long passed away. With no wife or children, he left the clinic to his only apprentice, Fa Han.

Time flew. Now Fang Han himself was old, nearing the end of his days.

…

…

Snapping out of his memories, Fang Han sighed lightly.

He got up and placed the medical book back on the shelf, then returned to the bed and lay down.

Lately, he’d felt increasingly tired and lacked appetite.

Having studied medicine for so many years, he had a vague understanding.

His time was almost up.

“So many regrets…”

He whispered so slowly, closing, for once, not sitting in meditation.

The next day, the clinic didn’t open.

Another day passed. The surrounding neighbors noticed something was wrong. They knocked, entered, and found the old doctor Fang lying on his bed, no longer breathing. They were shocked.

The news spread quickly through the small county.

Many townsfolk wept with sorrow.

Why did they grieve so?

Because this old doctor Fang had been a well-known and kind physician.

In the past, ordinary people wouldn’t visit clinics unless necessary—they couldn’t afford the consultation or medicine fees.

But this Doctor Fang had a benevolent heart. He often gave free consultations to the people.

Over the decades, which household in the county and surrounding villages hadn’t benefited from his kindness?

Now that he had passed peacefully in his sleep, the people he had helped all wept and mourned.

Knowing he had no children or relatives, the people spontaneously arranged his coffin and burial.

Those who had money gave money. Those who had strength gave strength.

The event grew large enough to catch the attention of the newly appointed magistrate of Linshui County. Upon hearing the story, he deeply sighed:

“He practiced medicine and saved lives, protecting the health of the people—truly a virtuous healer!”

🍃🍃🍃

Footnotes:

• 悬壶济世 (xuán hú jì shì)– Literally “hanging the pot to help the world.” Refers to physicians who practice medicine to heal the sick and aid the common people. Often used to praise noble, altruistic doctors.
• 黔首 (qián shǒu)– An ancient term for commoners or ordinary people. Used here to emphasize the humble status of those helped.
• 寿终正寝 (shòu zhōng zhèng qǐn)– A formal phrase meaning to die peacefully of old age in one’s bed.
• 医武不分家 (yī wǔ bù fēn jiā)– “Medicine and martial arts are not separate.” A traditional saying reflecting the belief that both share common principles, such as energy flow (qi) and internal cultivation.