Blood Replenishment Soup

Zhong Lin looked interested and casually asked, "You're not trying to swindle me, are you?"

That single sentence made the doctor flare his nostrils and glare. He snapped, "My family has run this medicine shop for five generations, for a full hundred years now. Why would I deceive you?"

Zhong Lin did not respond and continued asking, "How much?"

"Hmph! One packet of Eight Treasures Blood Nourishing Soup costs three taels of silver and lasts three days."

Expensive!

Fucking expensive.

Zhong Lin hesitated. One packet alone cost three taels of silver—his yearly rent for that house was only three taels.

"Can't you make it cheaper?"

"No."

"Is it really as effective as you say?"

"You don't have to buy it."

The physician's attitude grew worse and worse, his expression plainly saying take it or leave it. Clearly, Zhong Lin's earlier words had angered him.

"Fine. I'll take two packets to try first."

After thinking it over for a while, Zhong Lin still bought two packets of Eight Treasures Blood Nourishing Soup.

Hearing this, the physician got up and headed into the back hall. Before long, he returned with two paper-wrapped packets of medicine and instructed, "Mix it with hot water and drink it once a day. Less is acceptable, more is not."

Zhong Lin readily paid six taels of silver, weighed the medicine packets in his hand, and left.

After buying the medicine, Zhong Lin did not head straight home. Instead, he turned toward a teahouse.

He ordered a pot of clear tea and two plates of pastries, then quietly sat in a corner and sampled them.

A teahouse was a place for people to drink tea and relax. At the center stood a raised platform, where an old man in a gray robe was performing vocal mimicry. At times he sounded like a man, at times a woman, at times a barking dog, at times a singing bird—every imitation was lifelike.

When the performance ended, he took a sip of tea to moisten his throat before beginning to tell a story.

Zhong Lin had not come here to relax. If he wanted relaxation, weren't Heavenly Fragrance Brothel and Warm Wind Tower far better than this place?

The main reason was that he could listen to people from all corners boast here, while also learning about the customs and geography of this world through their words.

For instance, Black Mountain County beneath his feet belonged to Heavenly Sun County, and Heavenly Sun County was one of Chen Country's eight counties.

The current ruler of Great Chen was the Prosperous Rhyme Emperor, whose reign had endured for one hundred and sixty years.

After draining the last sip of tea and swallowing the final pastry, Zhong Lin finally rose and left the teahouse.

As he passed East Market, he happened to encounter a snake catcher selling a freshly caught Black Ring Snake.

The Black Ring Snake was completely black, with an even darker ring-shaped marking around its neck. This snake was as thick as an arm and looked exceptionally fierce.

The instant Zhong Lin saw it, his eyes lit up. After some haggling, he bought it outright.

After returning home, he skillfully gutted the snake, using its snake gall to steep wine.

After some tinkering, a pot of snake stew was freshly prepared.

During that time, Zhong Lin also lit the stove and heated a wok. He added a large chunk of lard, a generous handful of chopped scallions, and a star anise, frying them until fragrant.

He poured six beaten eggs into the wok and stir-fried them until golden-brown, then added hot water. The water immediately turned into a milky-white broth.

Once the pot came to a boil, he added the rolled noodles. Before long, a steaming bowl of hand-rolled noodles with fragrant fried seasonings came out of the pot.

"Let's dig in."

Zhong Lin and Little Shi each took a basin and began eating. In a few slurping mouthfuls, they swallowed all the noodles, then, while their stomachs were still warm, wiped out the snake stew as well.

It was utterly satisfying.

After resting for a while, Zhong Lin told Little Shi not to run around, then got up and hurried toward Teacher Liu's home.

Zhong Lin no longer went there in the mornings. He only went in the afternoons to learn characters. With his max-level calligraphy as a foundation, he learned characters faster and faster; sometimes, he learned more than a hundred characters in a single afternoon.

At most, within a month, Zhong Lin would learn enough common characters to read and write normally.

Teacher Liu had said that since ancient times, there had been roughly fifty thousand characters, but only three or four thousand were commonly used. So long as one did not encounter ancient texts, ordinary reading and writing would not be a problem.

When he returned home at dusk, Zhong Lin saw that it was still early and decided to try the Eight Treasures Blood Nourishing Soup.

He took out a packet and opened it. Rather than ordinary medicinal ingredients, the paper packet contained powder. He took out one-third of it and mixed it with boiling water.

Not long after drinking the Eight Treasures Blood Nourishing Soup, Zhong Lin felt as though a ball of fire had ignited in his abdomen.

"What potent medicine. That old physician really didn't deceive me."

Zhong Lin did not dare delay. He quickly moved into the courtyard and began practicing his punches with both hands and feet.

His breath surged through his mouth and nose, and the Iron Mountain Skill's unique breathing method shook his entire body.

Unlike when he had practiced the Iron Mountain Skill before, Zhong Lin now clearly felt a warm current emerge from that ball of fire in his abdomen. It circulated through his body with his blood, and drops of gray sweat seeped out from every pore of his skin.

Zhong Lin was thrilled and continued practicing his punches.

Once, twice, three times...

This time, Zhong Lin practiced six full sets before stopping. If it had been yesterday, his body would have long since become sore and swollen, unable to continue.

"This Eight Treasures Blood Nourishing Soup truly has miraculous effects. Just one dose supported my body through six whole sets of punches. And because of my max-level Iron Mountain Skill, I can absorb the medicine's power more effectively, wasting less than half a percent. Even if others drank this Eight Treasures Blood Nourishing Soup, they could at most absorb sixty or seventy percent of its medicinal power."

Zhong Lin clenched his hand and felt his entire body brimming with strength. Now he understood why martial artists all needed Medicated Diet. With it and without it were as different as heaven and earth.

"No wonder so many people say poor scholars, rich martial artists. Only with Medicated Diet can one progress rapidly. It's just too expensive. Anyone without money simply cannot practice martial arts; forcing it would only ruin their body. I'll have to keep using this Eight Treasures Blood Nourishing Soup. Sure enough, the only flaw of expensive things is that they're expensive."

Zhong Lin squeezed the muscles on his arm. With normal dietary nourishment, it would take at least several months to become like this, yet martial arts had achieved it in just two days. It made him marvel all the more at the wonder of the martial path.

He carried out the hot water Little Shi had boiled from the kitchen and scrubbed himself in the open space, washing away the sweat from his body.

Half a month later.

Sweet Water Alley, Zhong Household.

A dish of cold mixed greens, a serving of crystal dumplings, and a bowl of white rice.

This was the lunch of Zhong Lin and Little Shi, the two brothers.

In half a month, Little Shi had long since shed his malnourished appearance of a large head atop a small body. Even Zhong Lin himself had grown half a head taller. His dark skin had lightened into a bronze hue, flesh had begun to fill out his frame, and he had become the sturdy young man with a tiger's back and a wasp's waist that Old Zhou had described.

By now, Zhong Lin had fully established himself in Black Mountain County. Every day or two, someone came to his door requesting paintings. Every time he went out, he earned no less than five taels of silver. And because he now belonged to the yamen, no blind fool dared come collect protection money from him.

Zhong Lin increasingly felt fortunate that he had become a yamen painter that day. Although painting for the yamen only earned him around one tael of silver a month—practically volunteer work—the yamen's cloak allowed him to flourish in Black Mountain County.