Only after Wei Yuanji's figure vanished around the bend in the mountain path did Qin He turn and return to the old farmer's courtyard.
The old farmer was squatting on the threshold, smoking dry tobacco from a pipe made of polished old bamboo root. Seeing Qin He return, he hurriedly pinched out the bowl of the pipe, rubbed his callused hands, and rose to his feet, looking both nervous and respectful.
Qin He did not waste words. He took three lustrous white pills from his storage pouch, then handed over a small, heavy bag of gold and silver. The pills gave off a faint, gentle glow. They were not hot to the touch, yet one could vaguely sense the vitality flowing within them.
"Swallow the pills. Each one will add ten years to your lifespan, strengthen your sinews and bones, and spare you from being plagued by illness from now on, ensuring that you die without disease." His voice was calm. To mortals, these pills were no different from immortal elixirs.
The old farmer held the pills and gold and silver, his hands shaking fiercely. His lips moved several times, but he could only force out the words, "Immortal, may you be blessed for your virtue," before he tried to kneel. Qin He lightly raised a finger, and a strand of gentle law power supported him, preventing him from bowing down.
"You have taken care of us these past days. This is what you deserve."
With that, Qin He turned and left. His robes swept over the weeds by the courtyard gate, leaving behind not the slightest trace of extra aura. The old farmer stood where he was, clutching the treasures and staring in the direction Qin He had gone, not daring to move for a long while.
Qin He