Hearing the rumble of heavenly thunder, Zhang Xiaohua suddenly thought of the time he had cultivated in the thatched shed in the herb field. That rainy night, that thunderclap that had seemed to strike his heart, the emerald-green herb field at dawn, the flourishing weeds—even the tiny thread of true qi that had formed within his meridians.
Thinking of this, Zhang Xiaohua immediately stopped tidying up, shoved open the door, and ran outside, utterly heedless of the rain soaking him through.
When he reached the herb field and hurriedly ducked into the thatched shed, Zhang Xiaohua could not help shaking his head with a bitter smile. He had just run back from the woods to the cottage to avoid getting drenched, yet he had still failed to escape being soaked like a drowned rat.
Zhang Xiaohua had no time to dry himself off. He sat down cross-legged, preparing for Qi Introduction, but once he had settled down and calmed his mind, he began to hesitate again.
Zhang Xiaohua still felt lingering fear at the thought of being struck by heavenly thunder while drawing in qi last time. It had been a shock to the soul, a sensation beyond description. Fortunately, he had happened to be asleep then. If he had still been awake, who knew what the consequences might have been?
Thus, Zhang Xiaohua stopped circulating his qi and hesitated once more. Judging by He Tianshu and the others' reactions after returning to the Medicine Hall, the yellowing of the herbs did not seem as serious as He Tianshu or he himself had imagined. Did he really need to take such a risk?
If he made a clever move only to spoil it, and the heavenly thunder struck him with dire consequences, then who would ever know the painstaking care