Qingyuan City originally had two high-ranking officials. One was the City Guard, Pang Gaoshan, who had already been blown to pieces.
The other was the City Lord, Fan Xin, who almost never appeared in public.
There were even rumors that Fan Xin wasn't in Qingyuan at all, and that all affairs were handled by his advisor, Tao He.
Unaware that Fan Xin was secretly investigating, he packed a jar of pickled tiger meat for Lin Da. After thanking him, he shut the courtyard gate, temporarily shutting out the clamor of the outside world.
He calmed his mind and formally began his first-ever attempt at making medicinal powder—Qi and Blood Powder.
Although the rewards from the preliminary exam and the tiger he'd hunted meant he wasn't short on Qi and Blood Powder for the time being, mastering the craft with his own hands would mean not only a steadier supply, but also another way to make a living and stand on his own two feet.
He took a deep breath, steadied his mind, and began the first step—drying the Blood Essence Grass.
The finest silver-thread charcoal crackled softly beneath the medicine stove, its walls gradually heating evenly.
Setting aside tools like bamboo tongs, he held his hand directly above the stove's mouth, feeling every subtle shift in the scorching air with his fingertips.
As he focused on sensing the temperature, a new panel quietly appeared in his consciousness.
[Medicine Making: Beginner (1/100)].
He only glanced at it, his concentration unshaken.
Medicinal herbs were precious; he couldn't afford to waste them.
A five-year-old Blood Essence Grass was worth a pretty penny. The eight stalks he had were only three years old, but they were still quite valuable.
On his first attempt, the charcoal burned a little too hot, and the edges of the leaves quickly blackened. Failure.
On his second attempt, he adjusted the heat, but his timing when turning the leaves was off, leaving them unevenly heated. Failure.
Cui Hao didn't rush or lose his temper. He took a deep breath and placed the Blood Essence Grass in for a third try.
This time, his mind was clear and still, and the charcoal burned as steadily as a boulder. His fingertips sensed the subtle shift in the leaves, from moist to crisp.
As he turned them, his hands moved like butterflies threading through flowers.
Finally, at a precise moment that was hard to put into words, he flicked his fingers and removed the perfectly dried Blood Essence Grass—its color a rich, dark red, its texture crisp, its medicinal fragrance concentrated and contained.
Of the eight stalks, five were ultimately a success.
For someone new to the art of medicine, that success rate was a pleasant surprise.
Next came the mountain ginseng, which demanded even more patience.
Mountain ginseng slices were dense, requiring greater control over heat and timing.
His very first attempt failed when the temperature ran slightly too high and scorched the edges. Cui Hao stopped at once. After a moment's thought, he went to the kitchen, took a white radish, sliced it thinly, and began practicing.
With no distractions, he used one radish slice after another to practice, until he could dry them evenly into crisp, thin "jade slices."
His control over the heat in his hands and the changes in the materials had already improved by a whole level.
When he tried the mountain ginseng again, his heart was as still as water. His hands turned the slices with practiced ease, and under just the right heat, the mountain ginseng slowly lost its moisture and turned golden and crisp. Its fragrance was rich and mellow. Success!
After that, it was the same motions over and over.
By the time the last batch of ginseng slices came out successfully, the sky outside the window had begun to pale with the first hint of dawn.
He hadn't slept all night, but Cui Hao's eyes shone brightly, and his heart brimmed with the fulfillment of mastering a new skill.
"Brother Cui Hao..." Su Yun brought over a bowl of warm water. She had stayed with him all night.
Lingdang stood by the door, concern in her eyes.
Cui Hao took the bowl and drained it in one go, then nodded firmly. "I've made it through the herb-drying stage."
A smile bloomed across Su Yun's face, and she breathed a sigh of relief. "That's good! I'll go heat up some food."
After a simple breakfast and a short rest, Cui Hao moved on to the most crucial stage: combining the ingredients.
He placed the dried Blood Essence Grass and mountain ginseng in separate stone mortars and patiently ground them until they became fine, dust-like powders.
Next, he took out the delicate brass scale and weighed everything with bated breath and utmost care.
Five qian of Blood Essence Grass powder, three qian of mountain ginseng powder, two qian of Dewdrop Flower powder, and one and a half qian of Poria powder.
The four powders, each differing in color and scent, were mixed together in the mortar.
He took half a cup of three-year-aged Yellow Wine, its color a deep orange and its aroma rich, and slowly drizzled it around the edge of the mortar.
Using the pestle, he ground and stirred in the same direction, evenly and steadily.
He worked until the powders had thoroughly blended with the wine, their color growing uniform until they became a moist, dark-red paste.
The final step was to dry it into shape and activate its medicinal properties.
He lit the medicine stove again, devoting his entire mind to sensing its temperature.
When his fingertips detected that subtle sensation of "scorching, but not yet hot enough to burn the skin," Cui Hao's eyes sharpened. He scooped up a clump of medicinal paste with a bamboo spatula and placed it quickly, precisely, and steadily into the hottest part of the stove.
At the very moment that would determine success or failure—
"Knock, knock, knock!" Someone rapped on the courtyard gate—not too loudly, not too softly.
Cui Hao didn't even twitch an eyebrow, as if the sound came from another world.
He connected every sense, every thought, even the rhythm of his breathing, to the lump of medicinal paste inside the stove.
His hands became two blurs as they swiftly and gently nudged and turned the paste in the scorching heat.
In just three breaths! Under the precise heat, the soft, moist paste rapidly shrank, solidified, and broke apart into a pile of small, evenly sized, dark-red granules like agate.
The moment had come!
Cui Hao's flushed palm slammed against the edge of the stove, sending out a light burst of force.
With a soft rustle, all the medicinal granules bounced up from the jolt, traced neat arcs through the air, and landed in the prepared white porcelain dish, making a delicate, pleasant sound.
Only then did Cui Hao let out a slow breath. He bent down and leaned over the dish.
He sniffed gently. The medicinal fragrance was pure and mellow.
He dabbed up the tiniest amount with his fingertip and tasted it cautiously with the tip of his tongue. A familiar warmth spread from the base of his tongue, slowly flowing into his limbs.
—Success! The medicinal effect was even purer than he'd expected.
"Brother Hao, did you do it?" Su Yun, who had been keeping watch by his side, couldn't help asking, her voice full of hope.
Cui Hao turned and gave his wife a reassuring smile. "I did."
Su Yun was so delighted that she nearly leapt into the air, all her tension and worry vanishing.
"Bring me the scale."
A short while later, he finished packing the powder into six packets, each weighing about two qian.
Cui Hao estimated that the six packets, at market price, would be worth twelve taels of silver.
But when he began calculating the costs, his expression slowly stiffened.
After accounting for waste, the Blood Essence Grass came to about five taels of silver; half a stalk of old mountain ginseng was worth five taels; and the Dewdrop Flower, Poria, and other supplementary herbs came to about one tael... The medicinal ingredients alone had cost eleven taels.
That didn't even include wear and tear on the stove, the pricey silver-thread charcoal, or the time and effort he'd poured into it over the past day and night.
The profit was so meager it was almost nonexistent. One small misstep, and he'd even lose money.
Where was the problem?
Cui Hao's mind churned, and he finally understood!
This was clearly a clever calculation: it let low-level medicine makers with a little knowledge of medicinal theory scrape by, so they wouldn't starve to death.
At the same time, it firmly choked off any possibility of low-level medicine makers using this craft to build up capital and climb higher.
He gathered his thoughts and carefully put away the medicinal powder and tools before finally heading to the courtyard gate.
Aunt Wang and Aunt Li stood outside. Cui Hao's face was expressionless as he asked, "Is something the matter?"
"Oh, Brother Hao is here too," Aunt Wang said with a smile. "Is Su Yun here? We came to have a chat with her."
Cui Hao's qi and blood surged. The veins on the back of his hand, gripping the doorframe, stood out.
He really wanted to bash their heads in with a couple of punches!
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