Wandering Master and Disciple (Part 1)

Two strange people arrived in Qu County today.

One old, one young, both dressed like wandering martial artists.

The old man wore a dusty gray jacket, his face calm, his eyes deeply sunken; the young man had thick brows and large eyes, but wore a haughty expression.

The young man carried a white banner over his shoulder, inscribed with four ink characters: Subdue Demons, Vanquish Evils.

The wind blew, the banner fluttered, and the characters swayed along with it.

From a distance, it looked less like the trade of a wandering sorcerer and more like someone heading a funeral procession.

The two stopped at the street corner, and the young man casually grabbed a passerby: "Where's the biggest pharmacy around here?"

The passerby, seeing their strange attire, dared not stare too long and pointed south: "Go straight, turn east at the intersection, and you'll find Renhe Pharmacy."

The young man didn't thank him and strode off.

The old man followed behind, his pace unhurried, as if he wasn't in the slightest rush.

Renhe Pharmacy was indeed the largest pharmacy in Qu County.

Three storefronts were connected, with three resident physicians inside, four apprentices dispensing medicine, and shelves lined with all kinds of herbs, neatly arranged in rows.

When the two entered, they happened to catch a nobleman with his servant leaving.

The shopkeeper personally saw them to the door, his face full of smiles, bowing and clasping his hands, not straightening up until the sedan chair had disappeared into the distance.

As he turned back, he ran straight into these two fortune-teller types.

The shopkeeper's face instantly darkened.

In twenty years of running his shop in Qu County, what wandering peddler hadn't he seen?

Sellers of fake plasters, hawkers of strength pills, or fortune-tellers and diviners—all of them came to squeeze out a few coins.

Every single one had the same demeanor.

The old man pretended to be profound, the young one acted tough—in the end, they just wanted to cheat a few copper coins.

He frowned and was about to speak to send them off when the apprentice weighing herbs nearby, sharp-eyed, caught the shopkeeper's expression.

The apprentice immediately set down his scale, scurried over in two or three steps, and reached out to shove them out.

"Out, out, out. Is this the place for you? Barging in like this..."

Before he finished, the young man at the front changed his expression and barked, "Are your dog eyes blind?"

As he spoke, he raised a hand and pushed. The apprentice felt a massive force slam into him, stumbled, and landed on his backside, dazed and blinking.

He paused, about to get up and argue, when he saw the young man unhurriedly pull a silver ingot from his pocket and toss it over.

The apprentice caught it instinctively, feeling its weight.

He looked down, and his eyes went wide.

This weight—must be at least ten taels.

The shopkeeper, standing behind the counter, saw it all clearly.

His previously darkened face lit up again, wrinkles of smile piling at the corners of his eyes and brows.

He hurried around the counter, helped the apprentice up, and said in a flurry, "Ah, my apologies! So you're honored guests! This dog-eyed fool has no discernment, no discernment! Please, come in, come in! Are you here for a consultation or to buy medicine?"

As he spoke, he even kicked the apprentice in the backside.

The apprentice rubbed his rear, returned to the counter, secretly weighed the silver on his scale, and signaled the shopkeeper with a gesture.

Ten taels of pure silver.

He'd worked here for five years, earning only two qian a month.

These ten taels were enough to buy a house in the county—without a courtyard. Forget just shoving him; if the young man told him to eat dirt, he'd swallow it without changing his expression.

Seeing their fawning faces, the young man's arrogance grew even more. He snorted coldly, "Not here for a consultation, not here to buy medicine. Just asking for some information."

The shopkeeper blinked. "What information?"

The young man said, "Your pharmacy deals with herb gatherers every day. Do you know where in the nearby mountains there's a Peach Blossom Miasma?"

The shopkeeper stared blankly. "Peach... Peach Blossom Miasma?"

Seeing his confusion, the young man grew impatient. "It's a pink mist that settles in valleys. Wind can't move it, sun can't dispel it. If someone breathes it in, their face turns flushed, like they're drunk, dizzy and disoriented. If not treated in time, they'll die."

The shopkeeper finally understood. "Oh~ You mean the miasma!"

He slapped his thigh. "Yes, yes, yes! Just last spring, a herb gatherer went into the mountains, somehow breathed in the miasma, came home unconscious, his face burning red like a monkey's backside. His family was already preparing his funeral. In the end, a Daoist priest from Clear Wind Temple drew a talisman, dissolved it in water, and fed it to him, barely saving his life."

The old man had been standing silently the whole time. At these words, his eyelids lifted slightly, but he still didn't speak.

The young man's eyes lit up, and he pressed on, "Who is that herb gatherer? Where is he now?"

Just as he finished, someone walked in through the door.

The man carried a bamboo basket filled with freshly picked herbs, his clothes speckled with mud. He was an old man of sixty or seventy, his face covered in wrinkles, his hands calloused.

The shopkeeper saw him and immediately laughed. "Look, look! What a coincidence! It's him!"

He grabbed the old man, pulling the bewildered herb gatherer in front of the two.

The old man looked bewildered, glancing at the shopkeeper and then at the two strangers, muttering under his breath, "What's this about? What's this about?"

The shopkeeper whispered a few words in his ear, and the old man's face instantly changed. He waved his hands repeatedly, stammering a refusal, "Don't know, don't know... This old man doesn't know anything..."

The young man stepped forward and asked again directly.

Hearing this, the old man hemmed and hawed, first saying he couldn't remember, then claiming he hadn't gone to Official Mountain and dared not break the law.

The young man frowned, then pulled another silver ingot from his bosom and pressed it into the old man's hand.

Seeing the silver, the old man's eyes lit up. He clutched it, weighed it in his hand, and finally spoke.

"That place... it's in the valley between Deer Rest Mountain and... and Green Screen Mountain. I only stumbled on it by taking a wrong turn. The mist was hazy and pretty to look at, so I took a glance but didn't dare go in. Then I went home and passed out."

He added, "But I didn't go to Official Mountain. I circled in from the other side—that area isn't under this county's jurisdiction."

The silent old man beside him suddenly spoke, his voice dry and low: "Official Mountain?"

The shopkeeper quickly explained, "Esteemed elder, you may not know this, but there's a Clear Wind Temple on Deer Rest Mountain registered with the authorities, so that peak is designated as Official Mountain. Ordinary herb gatherers aren't allowed to enter."

The old man nodded and said no more.

This time, the young man didn't pull out silver. Instead, he took a gleaming small gold bar from his bosom and weighed it in his hand.

The gold bar dazzled in the sunlight, and the shopkeeper and the attendant's eyes followed it.

"Take us there," he said, waving the gold bar before the old man's eyes. "This will be yours."

The old man stared blankly, his Adam's apple bobbing as he nodded frantically: "I... I'll take you! I'll definitely take you!"

He reached out to grab it.

But the young man raised his hand and dodged.

He smiled, though the smile didn't reach his eyes: "If you take us there, all is well. If you don't..."

He pinched both ends of the gold bar and pressed his fingers together gently.

A crisp crack sounded.

The finger-thick gold bar was snapped cleanly in two by his bare hands.

He tossed one half to the old man and said flatly, "This is the deposit. The other half comes after the job's done."

The old man fumbled to catch the half gold bar, looking down at the gold in his hand, then up at the young man, his eyes filled with both wild joy and fear.

The shopkeeper and the attendant stood by, already stunned speechless.

Even the bookkeeper at the counter stopped his pen, staring blankly at the scene.

These two were no ordinary wanderers.

The young man put away the remaining half of the gold bar and brushed off nonexistent dust from his hands: "Find me a Human Broker. My master and I need to go into the mountains—I need four path clearers and four sedan carriers. Ten people total."

Hearing this, the attendant rushed forward: "Sir, sir, no need for a Human Broker! This little one can handle it for you! Isn't it just ten people?"

The young Daoist glanced at him sideways and said coldly:

"Let me make this clear. I want sturdy men who can carry people and clear paths. If you dare scrape together some old geezers who can't walk and make me take care of them on the mountain, hmph..."

The attendant slapped his chest loudly: "Rest assured, sir! Leave it to this little one! But the money..."

The young Daoist snorted coldly and tossed out another piece of silver.

The attendant caught it with both hands, beaming, and without even glancing at the shopkeeper's expression, scurried out the door.

Only then did the old man who had barely spoken since entering finally stir.

He walked slowly to a bench by the counter, sat down, placed his worn, faded cloth bag on his knees, and closed his eyes to rest.

The young man's gaze swept across the medicine cabinet, then withdrew. He leaned idly against the counter, tapping his fingers lightly on its surface.

The shopkeeper rubbed his hands together, wanting to strike up a conversation but not daring, so he just smiled awkwardly, occasionally glancing at the half gold bar.

The cut was as clean as slicing through tofu.

But that was gold, not tofu.