Barnard's advice had gone in one ear and out the other. Ye Chuqi's laid-back attitude left the old man shaking his head over her wasted potential.
What am I supposed to do? I'm a Sword Cultivator!
Because of her work as a Potion Maker, she hadn't touched a sword in ages. Her daily practice had fallen by the wayside too. All she could do was squat beside the training ground and watch the Red Fang Mercenary Corps train together, sweating buckets. She was so jealous!
On the last day of the festival, the Red Fang Mercenary Corps and the caravan finally set out. Ye Chuqi also saw the caravan owner's young son for the first time. The tall, thin boy was wrapped in a jet-black robe. As he climbed into the carriage, his fingers slipped into view, and a flash of gold glinted across them.
A flicker passed through Ye Chuqi's eyes. It took at least three months to purge the poison of Ghost Gold Grass. The patient had to drink medicine every day and endure his skin, flesh, and bones turning to metal and then dissolving again, over and over. It was excruciating.
The young master's skin was golden, and the stiffness of his joints showed whenever he moved. Barnard had managed to stop the poison from spreading, but he hadn't been able to do much to ease the boy's condition.
Ye Chuqi knew the formula for the Ghost Gold Grass antidote. She thought back over Barnard's prescription and the way she had prepared the Medicinal Decoction. Nothing was wrong with either. The formula worked, but after all these years, there had been no progress in treating the poison, and it was difficult to tailor the treatment to each patient. Unless someone improved the formula or found better ingredients