Facing an Ancient God for a Year

Chapter 1260: Chapter 1258: Loss of Image (Part 2)

It seems a little strange.

As the reminder outside was given, the carriage indeed slowed down smoothly and came to a stop.

Fu Qian, however, seemed lost in thought, not even shifting his posture as he looked into the mirror.

The reflection, though twisted and distorted, still clearly showed the face of a middle-aged man—brown hair, clean-shaven, hollow cheeks, and a stern, unsmiling expression.

Paired with the assortment of medicine bottles and tools in the medical kit, it was evident he was now playing the role of something akin to a doctor.

But more strikingly, this was a face entirely unfamiliar to him.

He initially thought he’d get a name from the coachman.

However, when the coachman reminded him earlier, there seemed to be an intentional avoidance of that detail, only helping affirm his guess regarding the profession.

Adding to the eerie mood was the fact of a midnight house call.

“Doctor, thank you for your trouble on the road.”

As he was lost in thought, the carriage door was opened from the outside. A middle-aged man, meticulously dressed and with graying temples, leaned in slightly and gave Fu Qian a polite nod.

Sure enough, his suspicion was not unwarranted.

Seeing this man waiting here specifically, his attire and demeanor resembling that of a butler, and yet still only addressing him as “doctor,” Fu Qian’s earlier conjectures were confirmed.

And in the next moment, far from being displeased by such confirmation, he felt deeply satisfied.

When in Rome, one must adapt. It was clear to him that this peculiar atmosphere couldn’t be one-sided—soon, wouldn’t he himself be able to use “sir” and “madam” to address everyone he encountered?

It certainly saved no small amount of trouble.

He’d even gained the knowledge of a name—Jane Winslow.

“Take me to her then.”

Slightly nodding, Fu Qian deliberately made his voice raspy to reduce its recognizability as he picked up the medical kit.

“Alright, please come with me. They’re already waiting.”

The other man showed no sign of surprise, directly moving aside to make way.

…

They didn’t even use the main entrance.

Upon alighting from the carriage, the scene before him was markedly different from the bustling streets during the day.

A more desolate courtyard unfolded before him. Although the central building was not extraordinarily grand, it was unmistakably the silhouette of a private villa—fitting with his guess about the butler’s identity.

Yet their current position clearly wasn’t the front.

This kind of sneaky behavior, coupled with the lack of mention of any names, made his role increasingly resemble that of “a highly trained doctor.”

For a moment, he felt a weighty sense of historical purpose settle on his shoulders. Fu Qian immediately adopted a professional, unflinching demeanor, signaling the butler to lead the way.

…

“Inside here.”

They ascended to the second floor of the villa, where the butler gestured for Fu Qian to wait briefly while stepping forward to knock on a door.

Click!

About half a minute later, a faint mechanical sound echoed.

A woman of refined appearance stepped out to personally open the door—raven-black hair, brown eyes, and impeccable attire fit for a noble lady.

Though her expression betrayed traces of fatigue, she still did her best to compose herself, offering Fu Qian a slight nod of acknowledgement.

“Thank you for your trouble on the road. I’ll leave it to your expertise.”

“Please trust in my professionalism.”

Able to roughly infer who this person might be, Fu Qian responded in a tone that was simple yet confident.

In fact, he could even guess who had been waiting behind the door moments before.

Indeed, the butler’s knock must have been both to inform those inside of his arrival and to grant them time to remove themselves from sight.

Fu Qian knew very well that there had been a man and a woman behind the door earlier, with the man softly comforting the woman before him. It was only after the knock that he quietly left.

From their brief exchange, he’d distinctly heard the mention of the name “Jane.”

“Please step inside; she’s in here.”

The noble woman, true to form, did not waste time on further pleasantries. She gestured for the butler to wait outside.

It seemed this excessively low-profile couple likely consisted of Mr. and Mrs. Winslow.

Following along, Fu Qian came to another door before shaking his head inwardly.

There was no need to open the door to deduce what lay beyond—a young woman, his patient and the target of tonight’s task, Jane Winslow, lay in the bed within.

…

“Doctor, can you tell what’s wrong with her?”

The atmosphere was noticeably warmer within the room, and the air was well-maintained, far from stagnant. This bedroom environment had clearly been kept with care.

Stepping in ahead, Mrs. Winslow gently pulled aside the bed curtains, revealing the scene to Fu Qian.

On the finely embroidered bedding lay a young lady whose hair was slightly lighter in shade than Mrs. Winslow’s, sleeping soundly.

Her steady breathing indicated at first glance that her physical functions seemed normal.

But they were certainly no longer normal.

Despite Mrs. Winslow’s best efforts to keep her voice and actions delicate, she still managed to wake the girl.

Taking a deep breath, the latter slowly turned her face toward them.

Her eye color was nearly identical to Mrs. Winslow’s, yet their shape was even more strikingly beautiful—if only her facial proportions hadn’t been enlarged by a factor of one and a half.

Indeed, those bright and clear brown eyes, glaringly disproportionate to the features below, were already too exaggerated to be visually tolerable. An otherworldly unease emanated from her appearance.

The overly intricate shapes of her features only heightened this discomfort.

“Mom…”

Softly calling out, the girl didn’t say much else, instead resolutely suppressing her instinct to turn her face away, allowing Fu Qian to scrutinize her features.

“We’ve brought in another doctor. Just lie quietly,” Mrs. Winslow said gently, smiling warmly as she soothed her daughter. Yet the moment she turned her head away, the heartbreak in her eyes could no longer be concealed.

“When did this start?”

As a trained medical professional, Fu Qian maintained a completely stoic expression, exuding pure professionalism.

“Based on our estimation, it began about a week ago. At first, the changes were subtle—we even subconsciously thought she looked prettier,” Mrs. Winslow described the medical history as meticulously as possible, clearly having deliberated over the details prior.

“However, starting two days ago, we finally realized something was wrong. She hasn’t left the house since returning from an art salon.”

“And yet the symptoms haven’t ceased—they’ve only continued to intensify.”

Ah, the so-called “art” in this place reeked of poison.

Listening closely, Fu Qian couldn’t help but remark inwardly.

The changes overtaking Miss Winslow clearly exceeded the bounds of ordinary illness.

Her disproportionate features couldn’t possibly be explained by any weight loss making her eyes appear larger.

This was so evident that it hardly required his professional analysis—her parents likely already deduced as much on their own.

Yet, it was likely *because* of this understanding that they had arranged for this clandestine consultation—they were worried about The Sect.

From earlier interactions, it was apparent that The Sect’s field agents, the hunters, showed little mercy.

Before fully understanding the nature of their daughter’s condition, the Winslow couple obviously didn’t wish to take any risks of an exorcism. Thus, they sought a secret diagnosis.

From this perspective, even Fu Qian could surmise that the physician he was impersonating likely had a dubious background, someone accustomed to handling unusual cases discreetly.

Indeed, he seemed highly experienced.

Lightly nodding, Fu Qian casually opened the medical kit.

“Has she been having nightmares?”

While carefully selecting an appropriate diagnostic tool, he asked nonchalantly.