The Fat Man Seeking Medicine

The early summer sun scorched the earth, and heat waves rolled at the entrance to Medicine King Valley.

The bluestone steps glared with blinding white light beneath the blazing sun, winding upward until they vanished into the mist-shrouded depths of the mountains.

The middle-aged fat man wore magnificent silks and satins, his brocade robe embroidered with intricate cloud patterns in golden thread that shimmered brilliantly in the sunlight.

His round body was drenched in sweat, the silk clinging tightly to him and outlining layer upon layer of excess flesh.

Beads of sweat as large as beans continually rolled down his gleaming, oily forehead, sliding along his cheeks and into his collar.

Beside him, the steward hunched his back, tightly clutching a silk handkerchief. From time to time, he looked at him with heartache, wanting to speak but stopping himself.

Several fully armed guards carried several heavy chests on their backs, gazing worriedly at the seemingly endless stairway.

The fat man raised his head to look at the steps before him, his Adam's apple bobbing with difficulty.

He had long heard of Medicine King Valley's rules, but only now, standing before these steps, did he truly feel how harsh they were.

Ten thousand meters of stairs, with a kneeling kowtow required every hundred steps—this was undoubtedly a nightmare for someone pampered and as obese as him.

But whenever he thought of his old father lying on his sickbed at home, hanging by a thread, with those weak yet expectant eyes, his heart twisted into a knot.

His old father had cherished him all his life. Now that his life hung in the balance, only Medicine King Valley's miraculous medicine could save him. No matter what, he had to grit his teeth and climb these steps.

He took a deep breath, summoned