Four days after Yang Wushuang left Nuoding City, a carriage with a gray cloth awning stopped at the entrance of Blue Medicine Hall.
The driver was a man in his forties, wearing a half-worn leather vest, with a rough face but steady eyes.
He parked the carriage steadily by the side of the road, jumped down, patted the side of the carriage box, and said to the woman behind the counter: "Sent by the Breaking Clan. Patriarch Yang asked me to deliver this directly to Baron Lan."
The woman led the man from the back courtyard to the Fief. Lan Tian was bending over the ridges at the edge of the Blue Silver Grass Sea, inspecting a cluster of newly sprouted medicinal herb seedlings. Hearing footsteps, he straightened up and turned around to see the leather vest man walking over quickly, carefully placing a heavy wooden box on the ground: "Baron Lan, Patriarch Yang asked me to deliver medicinal herbs, copies of medicinal formulas, and a letter."
Lan Tian took the letter, unsealed it, unfolded the letter paper inside, and glanced at it.
The handwriting on the letter was firm and powerful, the ink steady: "This old man has prepared the herbs you requested, and attached are three volumes of medicinal formula copies for your reference. In addition, I have a matter to entrust to you: I have recently been preparing an old formula, but I always fail to accurately gauge the balance between drying and heat. I wonder if you might offer some guidance?"
At the edge of the letter paper, a sloppy line of small characters had been added, as if remembered and appended just as it was being sealed: "The restriction technique you used for that medicinal pill is truly profound. The more this old man thinks