But Security Hall belonged to the Pan Family of the Inner City. The family was powerful and had long been the leading force in the Inner City's medicine trade.
Now they had extended their reach to the Outer City, and their prices were so low that they were clearly leaving the other small apothecaries no room to survive.
"Maybe I can't take on the Pan Family alone, but what if I join forces with every apothecary in the Outer City that you've squeezed?"
An idea surfaced in Lin Qing's mind.
Unite every force that could be united.
Perhaps only then could they, in this world surrounded by wolves and tigers,
fight for a sliver of life.
At dusk, Benevolent World Hall had just lit its oil lamps.
Old Fan's son, Fan Kui, came in timidly, one hand covering his bruised and swollen cheek.
"Brother Qing, please let me get some Bruise Powder on credit for my father..."
Fan Kui's voice was choked with tears.
Lin Qing's heart ached, and he nodded.
"Sure. I'll go take a look at your father's injuries first."
Lin Qing followed Fan Kui to his home, intending to examine Old Fan's injuries.
When he saw Lin Qing arrive, Old Fan struggled to sit up.
"A-Qing, you're here."
"I came to take a look. Uncle Fan, don't move yet."
Lin Qing stepped forward to examine Old Fan's injuries.
Old Fan's head was bleeding, and he had bruises all over his body. His thigh was especially swollen. If it wasn't treated soon, he might suffer lasting internal damage.
"A-Qing, I know my own injuries. I'll be fine."
"You don't need to prescribe medicine for me."
Old Fan managed a pale smile.
"Head of the family, stop talking," Old Fan's wife said.
"If you hadn't left that leg untreated back then, you wouldn't have had an old injury, and we wouldn't have had to suffer such cruelty at the hands of those damned people!"
"Quiet!"
Old Fan tried to cover his wife's mouth, but the movement tugged at his wounds, making him bare his teeth in pain.
Lin Qing looked over the wreckage scattered throughout the Fan home. Every possession had been smashed, and the rice jar was completely empty.
"Uncle Fan, it's all right. This medicine is cheap. I'll let you have it on credit for now."
Lin Qing sighed and returned to the shop.
He wrapped up three doses of Hemostatic Powder and two doses of Bruise Powder.
Together, they cost nearly two hundred copper coins.
But if Uncle Fan went without treatment any longer, his life might be in danger.
He handed the medicine packets to Fan Kui. "Take these for now. Here are two hundred copper coins. Pay me back when things get easier."
"Thank you, Brother Qing. Thank you so much."
Fan Kui left, thanking him over and over.
That night, his older sister Lin Wan sighed as she worked on her sewing.
"Old Fan's family is so pitiful. When Father first opened Benevolent World Hall, Uncle Fan made most of the medicine cabinets and tables in the shop himself, and he hardly charged us for his labor..."
"Now his family can barely afford to eat, and yet we..."
Lin Qing listened in silence. After a long while, he said, "Sis, in this world, who knows how many wolves and tigers are lurking outside? We can barely protect ourselves."
Lin Wan looked up at him in surprise, as if she were seeing her younger brother for the first time.
The younger brother who used to chase chickens and dogs seemed to have truly grown up after that serious illness.
"Little brother, you're right."
With worry in her eyes, Lin Wan could only go into the back room and bring out some clothes. By the light of the oil lamp, she began sewing.
Even so, as Lin Qing looked at the dim yellow oil lamp on the table and thought of Old Fan's family and their misery, he simply couldn't harden his heart.
He got up and quietly measured out three jin of brown rice, then put it into a cloth sack.
"Sis, I'll go over there."
"All right. Be careful."
Lin Wan nodded, her eyes full of approval.
Late that night, when all was quiet, Lin Qing knocked on Old Fan's door.
Fan Kui opened it. When he saw the sack of rice in Lin Qing's hands, he froze.
"Take it. Make some porridge and get through the next couple of days."
Lin Qing pressed the sack into his hands and spoke softly.
Fan Kui looked at the brown rice, and his eyes instantly reddened.
He fell to his knees with a thud and choked out, "Brother Qing... Thank you. Thank you!"
"Your great kindness, I, Fan Kui, will repay by working like an ox or a horse for the rest of my life..."
Lin Qing hurriedly helped him up and patted his shoulder. "Get up. We're neighbors. Don't say things like that."
"Take care of yourself. Things will get better, little by little."
"Mm. I'll go ask the foreman for an advance tomorrow."
Fan Kui wiped away his tears.
"Good."
With that, Lin Qing didn't stay any longer. He turned and disappeared into the night.
Walking along the cold, empty street, Lin Qing looked up at the moon, half-hidden behind dark clouds. His heart felt heavy.
The world was merciless.
Without connections or strength, you were like meat on a chopping board, left at the mercy of others.
The wild flame in his heart burned fiercer and fiercer.
The morning mist had yet to clear, but Yam Market, west of Qingping County, was already bustling with people.
It wasn't an official market. It had sprung up on its own, and most of the vendors were mountain folk from nearby, bringing herbs they'd gathered to trade with merchants from the county's apothecaries.
The air was thick with the distinctive scents of many different herbs.
With an empty bamboo basket on his back, Lin Qing wove through the crowd.
He had come to buy herbs for Iron Thread Fist Martial Hall and replenish Benevolent World Hall's stock.
He glanced at the Heavenly Dao Record.
[Pharmacology (Proficient)] [Experience: 1256/2000]
Thanks to the Heavenly Dao Record, his pharmacology had reached the proficient level, and his ability to identify herbs had improved once again.
Lin Qing's gaze swept across the herbs on the stalls, still damp with dew and dirt. Their colors and textures, even the subtle differences in their scents, let him quickly form an assessment.
He stopped at a stall and picked up a bundle of dried blood vine.
The vendor was a lean, middle-aged mountain man. He hurriedly put on a smile. "You've got a good eye, young man. This is top-quality blood vine, excellent for promoting blood circulation and replenishing blood!"
Lin Qing rolled the vine between his fingers, then held it near his nose and sniffed lightly. Shaking his head, he said, "It's not old enough, and it got damp while drying. There are already signs of mold inside. Its medicinal properties have been greatly diminished."
He put the blood vine down, ignoring the vendor's frozen expression, and turned to a basket of notoginseng beside it.
He picked up a piece, felt its texture with his fingertips, and studied the color of its cross-section. He understood at once. "The main root of this notoginseng was damaged when it was dug up, and it wasn't stored properly. It's lost nearly half its active compounds. It's only second-rate."
The middle-aged vendor cursed his bad luck under his breath. He'd run into an expert.
"Move along, move along. I'm not selling!" the vendor waved him away.
"I'll take these few pieces. Are you selling or not?"
Lin Qing carefully picked out some well-dried herbs and haggled with the vendor.
"I'm selling. Take them and hurry up. Don't get in the way of my business."
The middle-aged man waved his hand.
Lin Qing put down a few large coins, took the herbs, and left.
As he made his way through the market, he could always pick out the finest, most potent herbs from among piles that seemed almost identical.
He carefully inspected the roots to see if they were intact, judging how they had been harvested.
By sniffing them, he could tell whether the herbs had been contaminated by other medicines.
He also felt them with his hands to check their dryness and make sure they were good quality.
In his eyes, it was as if the herbs could talk.
This almost X-ray-like ability to identify herbs meant he could always buy the most valuable ones at a reasonable price.
Several apothecary owners who had come to buy supplies kept glancing his way, their eyes full of envy.
However, the market wasn't all fair dealing.
At the other end of the market, Pan An, a manager from Security Hall, was leading four or five workers in a swaggering buying spree.
"Listen up! Security Hall needs the herbs listed here today. We'll buy them all at ten percent above market price. We'll take as much as you've got!"
Pan An stood atop a makeshift wooden box and shouted, his voice oozing with wealth and confidence.
At once, many mountain folk crowded toward him.
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