Herb Gathering

"My family still has two elder brothers. My father needn't worry about carrying on the family line."

Qin Sang eagerly buttered him up. "Daoist, you're so learned and your medical skills are so superb. Your former status must have been extraordinary. What did you originally do?"

"This poor Daoist had been a Daoist since childhood, but..."

Daoist Jixin took a sip of tea and looked leisurely at Mingyue. "Your martial grandmaster—my own master—was once an Imperial Physician. He had once been high-spirited and full of ambition, but he accidentally used the wrong herb one time and nearly faced execution. After being driven from the palace, his heart turned to ashes and he became a Daoist, calling himself Yunyouzi. My Daoist name was given to me by your martial grandmaster, and everything I know was learned from him. So remember this: when you practice medicine on your own in the future, you must weigh every prescription and every medicine three times over. Never be careless."

Mingyue swallowed the pastry in his mouth and said solemnly, "This disciple understands."

"So Daoist, you truly come from a renowned lineage!"

Qin Sang's face was filled with admiration as he refilled Daoist Jixin's tea. "Martial Grandmaster was an Imperial Physician, moving about the forbidden palace and the imperial court. He must have known many secrets, right? Did he ever see an immortal master with his own eyes?"

The old Daoist shook his head. "Never. However, when Master served as an Imperial Physician, he heard quite a few rumors. They said immortal masters had once come and gone within the palace and were on good terms with royal clansmen and noble dignitaries. Wealth, beauty, fame, and profit cloud one's eyes. In this poor Daoist's view, those so-called immortal masters likely could not escape the seven emotions and six desires either. They could not be considered truly detached from the mortal world."

Qin Sang was stunned.

His fixed impression of cultivators was that they drank morning dew and dined on rosy clouds, hid themselves amid famous mountains and great rivers, dwelling in celestial grottoes and blessed lands; a thousand years passed in a single dream, worldly affairs never touched them, and they rarely appeared before ordinary people.

He had actually been wrong!

Could he try his luck in the Capital City?

Daoist Jixin seemed to see through Qin Sang's thoughts and dealt him a blow. "Stop indulging in wild fantasies. My revered master served as an Imperial Physician for over thirty years, entering and leaving palace chambers and princely estates every day, yet he never saw an immortal master in person. He had only heard a few tales. Besides, if the Capital City truly held an immortal opportunity, wouldn't those imperial princes and royal descendants fight until their heads cracked? Would it ever be your turn?"

Gazing up at the bright moon and listening to the master and disciple chanting scriptures beside him, Qin Sang sat on his bed in silence for a long while before finally giving a self-mocking laugh.

If immortal opportunities were so easily found, wouldn't everyone in this world become immortal? No matter what, he still had the "Netherworld Scripture," and there was still a thread of hope.

With this realization, Qin Sang temporarily set aside his unrealistic fantasies and focused on comprehending the "Netherworld Scripture."

Before he knew it, winter had arrived. The old Daoist took in several refugee families, and Qingyang Palace became much livelier.

The first snowfall suddenly descended upon the mountains.

The mountain range turned white-haired overnight. Qin Sang followed the old Daoist and his disciple down the mountain to provide free medical treatment. Seeing refugees frozen to death by the roadside, he could not help but feel pity. The old Daoist sighed. He was only a poor old Daoist, and Qingyang Palace had merely a few old rooms. How many homeless people could it shelter?

They could only do what was within their power.

Qin Sang crouched in a hollow between rocks, tending the fire. A large pot brimmed with cold-dispelling herbs, which would be boiled into medicinal soup and handed out to the refugees.

As he distractedly fed the fire, Qin Sang silently recited the "Netherworld Scripture" again and again.

By now, he had memorized the "Netherworld Scripture" so thoroughly that it rolled off his tongue. He had pondered every line of the scripture countless times, and its translation had not changed a single sentence in recent days. He felt he understood the "Netherworld Scripture" deeply enough and planned to begin cultivating that very night!

The snow had yet to melt. A bright moon hung overhead, and the night was as clear as day.

The several families staying at Qingyang Palace crowded into the rooms at the front. Qin Sang still lived alone, so he did not need to worry about being discovered.

He formed hand seals and sat cross-legged. Following the guidance in the "Netherworld Scripture," he calmed his mind and entered meditation, attempting to cultivate.

The scripture was already etched in his mind, yet after sitting rigidly for several hours, he still could not enter the gate. Not only could he not calm his heart, but distracting thoughts sprang up in profusion instead. He secretly grew anxious and tried to eliminate the stray thoughts in his mind, only to suddenly realize that this very intention was itself one of those distracting thoughts.

Dawn was nearly breaking, yet Qin Sang still could not reach the state described in the scripture—his heart as still as water, his spirit hidden within his body. He still had to descend the mountain the next day to provide free treatment, so he could only stop for now.

He went down the mountain by day to provide free medical treatment, cultivated at night, and practiced his fists morning and evening. Qin Sang's days were dull yet fulfilling.

By then, he had realized that whether the "Netherworld Scripture" was a martial arts cultivation method or an immortal cultivation formula, it was certainly not something that could be cultivated so easily. He needed enough patience.

After returning from another day of free medical treatment, Qin Sang was in his room pondering the "Netherworld Scripture" when he saw Mingyue rush in, panting as he carried two bowls of porridge.

"Senior Brother, Master said the herbs in the temple aren't enough. He's going up the mountain to gather herbs tomorrow and told you to pack your belongings and go with him."

Qin Sang paused and gazed toward the distant mountains. The snow had stopped seven days ago, and today the sky stretched clear for ten thousand miles. After today, the snow on the mountain should all have melted.

They had to boil several pots of medicinal soup every day for the free medical treatment down the mountain, consuming herbs rapidly. No wonder they had to go gather more.

Though there was no snow in the mountains, the paths might still be icy. Qin Sang was not at ease letting the old Daoist gather herbs alone, so he readily agreed. After finishing his porridge, he returned to his room to pack.

In truth, aside from the Ebony Sword and those few things, he had no possessions to speak of. Mingyue prepared the herb-gathering tools and food. Qin Sang tied up a set of cotton clothes with cloth strips and brought a pair of thick cotton shoes. That was all his luggage.

The next day, before dawn, Qin Sang set out with the old Daoist.

Cuiming Mountain was not too bad, as there was a path trodden out by people. But after descending Cuiming Mountain and going farther inward, they entered completely wild mountains and forests. They had to follow animal trails and force their way through waist-high wild grass. Even in broad daylight, Qin Sang could not tell where they were going and could only follow closely behind the old Daoist, step for step.

They climbed from the valley to the mountainside, rounded a bend along a narrow goat trail on the cliff, descended one mountain and climbed another. It was not until noon that they reached the foot of the fabled Huanghuang Mountain.

Qin Sang slipped several times on such paths and walked with his heart in his throat, while the old Daoist remained as steady as Mount Tai. Qin Sang could not help wondering who was actually the young man here.

Their schedule was tight. They had to return to Qingyang Palace by tomorrow night, so after climbing Huanghuang Mountain, they immediately began gathering herbs without stopping.

Hearing strange roars echoing from the forest from time to time, Qin Sang's heart tightened. Don't tell me I'll fail to seek immortality and die in a tiger's jaws instead? As they walked, he quietly asked, "Daoist, you come so deep into the mountains to gather herbs. Aren't you afraid tigers and wolves will eat you?"

"I have encountered mountain wolves before. This poor Daoist has beast-repelling powder passed down by my master. It can be of some use."

The old Daoist remained calm and unruffled as he used his herb hoe to push aside the wild grass. "The herbs outside have long since been picked clean, so we can only enter the mountains. Don't you have Martial Arts to protect yourself? What are you afraid of?"

Qin Sang held a wooden staff in his hand, yet he could not help feeling guilty. "Daoist, please stop making fun of me. My little bit of shallow skill cannot be displayed on any proper stage."

The old Daoist chuckled. "I see that the fist technique Mingyue learned from you seems to leave something unfinished. Is it incomplete?"

"Daoist, you have sharp eyes."

Qin Sang said, "This Tiger Subduing Long Fist was taught to me by the Eldest Brother who saved me. He only had time to teach me three moves, but this fist technique is quite widespread. In a while, I'll go ask at an escort agency in the city, and I should be able to complete it."