Medicinal Bath

After quite a while, Qin Sang finally recovered. He panted heavily and opened his eyes, which were filled with terror.

The searing pain in his meridians gradually faded, but the horrifying scene from before still left lingering fear in his heart.

Just then, Qin Sang suddenly heard birds chirping outside. Turning his head, he saw that the sky was faintly brightening. It was already dawn.

Qin Sang could not help but marvel inwardly. His mind had been wholly focused on cultivation. He had only circulated his energy through a few cycles and felt that at most an hour had passed, yet an entire night had gone by.

People were walking and speaking softly outside. Qin Sang did not dare continue. He lay down without removing his clothes and soon fell into a deep sleep.

After several days of attempts, Qin Sang gradually figured out the patterns of the Netherworld Scripture. At present, he could only drive that current of energy through his body for nine cycles at most. Any more, and the agonizing pain would interrupt him.

If he forced it, his meridians felt as though they were being torn apart, the pain drilling into his very bones.

Thus, Qin Sang could only hope to break through to the second level of the technique. Yet after a month had passed, that current of energy had only grown by a trace. He had no idea how long it would take to break through.

What depressed Qin Sang even more was that the energy seemed to offer no improvement to his Martial Arts. Throwing a punch with all his strength, its force was about the same as before. He could not even break a wooden stake.

Still, over the past month, Qin Sang had noticed changes in his body. They had come so subtly that he had not realized them at first.

Two days earlier, one of his traps had caught a wild bird. He had intended to roast it over a fire, but while undoing the knot, one careless moment let it break free.

The bird shot into the air. Qin Sang instinctively grabbed a stone and hurled it. Without missing by so much as a hair, he struck it in one blow.

Even Qin Sang was startled by his own accuracy and stood there in a daze.

He could actually see the bird's flight path with perfect clarity. In his eyes, it was as if the bird had slowed down. In an instant, he could judge which direction it would fly the next moment. That had been absolutely impossible in the past.

Because of that incident, Qin Sang could not help connecting it to all the other little changes in himself.

His digestion had improved more and more, and his appetite had greatly increased—those things went without saying.

It was not only his eyes. His ears had also become much sharper than before, able to clearly hear even the faintest sounds from far away.

Practicing Martial Arts required tempering the body as well. Qin Sang and Mingyue trained with stone hammers, wooden stakes, and the like. No matter how careful they were, injuries were unavoidable. If vulnerable places such as the joints or lumbar spine were hurt, they were difficult to heal and would occasionally flare up to remind one of their presence.

Yet during this time, Qin Sang's old injuries seemed to have vanished without a trace. They had not troubled him for a long while.

Then there were the highly complex moves in the Tiger Subduing Long Fist. He could now perform them with ease. His body was gradually becoming more flexible, and his fist technique had advanced by leaps and bounds.

Only after thinking over all these things did Qin Sang realize that the Netherworld Scripture had brought him so many benefits.

If these improvements continued, his physical constitution would surely far surpass that of ordinary people.

"With such miraculous effects, even if the Netherworld Scripture cultivates slowly, I'll keep at it no matter what."

Qin Sang led the donkey along, humming a tune as he thought to himself.

The donkey carried a sack of coarse grain. Ever since the temple had taken in several refugee families, the old Daoist would occasionally provide them with relief. The temple's grain was being consumed especially quickly, while grain prices outside were soaring madly. Qin Sang felt that his few dozen taels of silver would sooner or later be spent clean.

Leading the donkey into the temple, Qin Sang gave a soft cry of surprise. "Mingyue, why are you moving out a broken vat?"

"Senior Brother, come help me!"

Mingyue looked as if he had seen a savior. Panting hard, he shouted, "Master told me to move the vat from the woodshed into Green Goat Hall. He said it would be needed tonight."

Since it was Daoist Master Jixin's instruction, Qin Sang hurriedly tied up the donkey and went to help Mingyue.

The earthenware vat was enormous, large enough for someone to sit inside. Although Mingyue had practiced Martial Arts with Qin Sang and eaten meat, making him sturdier than before, moving it was still extremely difficult for him.

It was said that when Green Goat Temple had flourished, this vat had been used to hold lamp oil. Now that Green Goat Temple had fallen into ruin, there was no longer enough oil to fill it. It had been left in the woodshed, piled full of pine needles for kindling.

Mingyue had already cleared out the pine needles and scrubbed the vat clean. Neither of them knew what the old Daoist wanted it for.

Qin Sang asked Mingyue, but Mingyue was equally baffled. He only said that Master had gone up the mountain to gather herbs and had given these instructions before leaving.

The two of them exerted great effort to move the huge vat into Green Goat Hall. Then, following Daoist Master Jixin's instructions, they used two stones to make a base and lifted the vat onto it.

Qin Sang secretly wondered whether the old Daoist intended to brew herbs in this vat.

For such a huge vat, it was fortunate that he had diverted water down with bamboo pipes. Otherwise, hauling water would exhaust Mingyue to death.

By evening, Daoist Master Jixin returned from gathering herbs. The herbs filled only half a basket. He told Mingyue to shut the front and back doors of Green Goat Hall, then began working.

Qin Sang squatted nearby, sorting the herbs. He discovered that he was seeing most of them for the first time, and they were all precious, rare medicinal herbs.

Daoist Master Jixin most often treated bruises, sprains, colds, and minor ailments caused by wind, cold, dampness, or heat. The herbs he used were a fixed dozen or so kinds. Qin Sang had followed the old Daoist up the mountain several times, and they had always gathered those same herbs. But this time, every herb the old Daoist had picked was new.

After sorting the herbs, Daoist Master Jixin sat behind the long table and wrote a prescription, telling Mingyue to prepare the medicine. Qin Sang leaned over to look. It was a new prescription, and the ingredients were extremely complex. With the little superficial medical knowledge in his head, he could not understand it at all.

"Daoist Master, what is this prescription for?"

Seeing Qin Sang's face full of confusion, Daoist Master Jixin explained, "Though this poor Daoist does not understand Martial Arts, I do know the saying: poor scholars, rich warriors. You and Mingyue practice Martial Arts all day and consume a great deal. No matter how much game you eat, it is difficult to replenish the vital energy you expend, and troubles will inevitably be left behind. This prescription is an ancient formula my master obtained when he served as an Imperial Physician. It strengthens the foundation and nourishes vital energy, making it especially suitable for martial artists. However, this formula is for a medicinal bath and must not be taken internally. Prepare the medicine according to the prescription, fill the large vat with water, and boil it down until seven-tenths of the medicinal broth remains. Once the water cools somewhat, soak in it for half an hour. Do so once in the morning and once in the evening. Keep adding water, and it can be used for seven days before replacing it with fresh medicine."

Hearing that such a good thing existed, Qin Sang naturally would not refuse. He committed the prescription to memory and could not help sighing. "Daoist Master, just how many good things are you hiding?"

Daoist Master Jixin closed his eyes to rest.

Qin Sang and Mingyue got to work. Before long, they had prepared the medicine and filled the vat with water. Following the old Daoist's instructions, they brewed the medicine. Once the water temperature had dropped slightly, they eagerly jumped in.

"Ah!"

For the first time in his life, Qin Sang soaked in a hot bath. With everything below his neck submerged in the scalding medicinal broth, he felt utterly comfortable. The exhaustion in his body vanished without a trace, and he could not help letting out a groan.

Mingyue was less tolerant of heat than Qin Sang. He cautiously tested the water as he climbed in, but seeing the blissful look on Qin Sang's face, he endured the heat and jumped in as well.

Mingyue was young and not very tall, so the two of them did not feel crowded together.

The early spring air was still cold. Soaking in the hot medicinal broth was simply a pleasure. Qin Sang rested the back of his head against the rim of the vat and nearly drifted into deep sleep.