Chapter 12: Gathering Medicinal Herbs

## The Human World

“I have two older brothers at home, so my father doesn’t need to worry about continuing the family line.”

Qin Sang tried hard to please, “Daoist Priest, your knowledge is so profound, and your medical skills are so exceptional. Your past identity must have been extraordinary. What did you do before?”

“This humble Daoist has been a Daoist since childhood, but...”

Jixin Daoist Priest took a sip of tea, and gazing at Mingyue, he leisurely said, “Your grand-master, who was also my master, was once an imperial physician. He was once full of vigor and ambition, but unexpectedly, he once used the wrong medicine and nearly faced execution. After being expelled from the palace, he became disheartened and chose to become a Daoist, calling himself ‘Cloud Wanderer.’ My Daoist name was given to me by your grand-master, and all my skills were learned from him. Therefore, you must remember that when you practice medicine alone in the future, you must carefully consider every prescription and every medication. Never be careless.”

Mingyue swallowed the pastry in his mouth and solemnly replied, “Your disciple understands.”

“So, Daoist Priest, you come from a distinguished family!” Qin Sang said, his face filled with admiration, as he refilled Jixin Daoist Priest’s tea. “Your grand-master, as an imperial physician who walked the Forbidden Palace, must have known many secrets, right? Did he ever personally see an immortal master?”

The old Daoist shook his head. “He never did. However, when my master was an imperial physician, he heard many rumors that immortal masters used to frequent the palace and were on good terms with royalty and nobles. Wealth, beauty, fame, and profit are blinding. In my humble opinion, the so-called immortal masters probably couldn’t escape the seven emotions and six desires either, so they can’t be considered truly transcendent.”

Qin Sang was stunned.

His ingrained impression of cultivators was that they subsisted on morning dew and mist, hid themselves in famous mountains, great rivers, and blessed lands, passing a thousand years in a single dream, untouched by worldly affairs, and rarely appearing before others.

He was mistaken!

Should he go to the capital to try his luck?

Jixin Daoist Priest seemed to have read Qin Sang’s mind and discouraged him, “Don’t indulge in such wishful thinking. Your grand-master served as an imperial physician for over thirty years, entering and leaving the palace and royal residences daily, yet he never personally saw an immortal master; he only heard a few legends. Besides, if there truly were opportunities for immortality in the capital, wouldn’t the imperial princes and royal descendants fight tooth and nail for them? Would it even be your turn?”

Gazing at the bright moon, with the sound of the master and disciple chanting scriptures in his ears, Qin Sang sat on his bed, silent for a long time, and finally let out a wry smile.

If opportunities for immortality were so easy to encounter, wouldn’t everyone in this world be able to become an immortal? In any case, he still had the “Sutra of the Netherworld,” and with it, a glimmer of hope.

With this realization, Qin Sang temporarily set aside his unrealistic fantasies and focused on understanding the “Sutra of the Netherworld.”

Unconsciously, winter had arrived. The old Daoist had taken in several displaced families, adding much liveliness to the Daoist temple.

The first snow suddenly fell on the mountain.

The mountains turned white overnight. Qin Sang followed the old Daoist and his disciple down the mountain for a charity clinic. Seeing the displaced people frozen to death by the roadside, he couldn’t help but feel sorrow. The old Daoist sighed, lamenting that as a poor and humble Daoist, with only a few old rooms in Qingyang Temple, how many homeless people could he shelter?

They could only do what was within their power.

Qin Sang squatted by a stone hollow, tending the fire. In the pot was a large brew of herbs to ward off the cold, which would be boiled into a medicinal soup and distributed to the displaced people.

Absentmindedly tending the fire, Qin Sang continuously recited the “Sutra of the Netherworld” in his mind.

By now, he had memorized the “Sutra of the Netherworld” perfectly. Every line of scripture had been pondered countless times, and the translation hadn’t been changed a single time in days. He felt he had understood the “Sutra of the Netherworld” deeply enough, and he planned to begin cultivating tonight!

The accumulated snow had not yet melted, the bright moon hung in the sky, and the night was as bright as day.

The few families staying at the Daoist temple were crowded into the front rooms, but Qin Sang still had his own space, so he didn’t have to worry about being discovered.

He formed a hand seal and sat in the lotus position. Following the instructions in the “Sutra of the Netherworld,” he calmed his mind and entered a state of meditation, attempting to cultivate.

Though the scriptures were clear in his mind, he sat idly for several hours unable to make any progress. Not only could he not calm his mind, but distracting thoughts also arose. He secretly grew anxious, wanting to eliminate these distractions, but then suddenly realized that this very thought was one of them.

As dawn approached, Qin Sang still could not achieve the state of a mind as still as water and spirit hidden within the body, as described in the scriptures. Since he had to go down the mountain for the charity clinic tomorrow, he had no choice but to stop for now.

Descending the mountain for charity clinics during the day, cultivating at night, and practicing martial arts in the morning and evening—Qin Sang’s days were both monotonous and fulfilling.

By this point, he had realized that whether the “Sutra of the Netherworld” was a martial arts cultivation method or an immortal cultivation technique, it was certainly not easy to practice, and he needed sufficient patience.

After another day of charity work, Qin Sang was in his room contemplating the “Sutra of the Netherworld” when he saw Mingyue run up, breathless, carrying two bowls of porridge.

“Senior Brother,” Mingyue panted, “Master says there aren’t enough herbs in the temple. He’s going to gather herbs on the mountain tomorrow, and he wants you to pack your bags and go with him.”

Qin Sang paused and gazed at the distant mountains. The snow had stopped seven days ago, and today the sky was clear. After today, the snow on the mountains should have all melted.

For the charity clinics down the mountain, they had to brew several pots of medicinal soup every day, which consumed a lot of herbs. No wonder they needed to go gather more.

Even without fresh snow on the mountain, there might still be ice on the paths. Qin Sang was also uneasy about the old Daoist going to gather herbs alone, so he readily agreed. After finishing his porridge, he returned to his room to pack.

Aside from his ebony sword and a few other items, he didn’t have much in the way of possessions. The tools for gathering herbs and the provisions were all prepared by Mingyue. He tied up his cotton clothes with a cloth strip and brought a pair of thick cotton shoes; that was all his luggage.

The next day, before dawn, Qin Sang set off with the old Daoist.

Cuiming Mountain was manageable, with a path worn by people. But beyond Cuiming Mountain, deeper into the wilderness, it was completely untamed forest and mountains. They had to follow animal trails, pushing through waist-high wild grass. Even in broad daylight, Qin Sang couldn’t tell where they were going and could only follow the old Daoist step by step.

They climbed from the valley to the mountainside, then rounded a bend along a winding goat trail on the cliff, descended, and then ascended again, finally reaching the foot of the legendary Huanghuang Mountain by noon.

Walking on such terrain, Qin Sang stumbled several times and felt his heart pound with fear, yet the old Daoist remained as steady as Mount Tai. Qin Sang couldn’t help but wonder who was truly the younger man.

Their schedule was tight; they had to return to the Daoist temple by tomorrow night. So, after climbing Huanghuang Mountain, they immediately began gathering herbs without rest.

Listening to the strange roars that occasionally echoed through the mountain forest, Qin Sang’s heart tightened. He thought, “I wouldn’t fail to find immortality only to die in a tiger’s mouth, would I?” As they walked, he quietly asked, “Daoist Priest, aren’t you afraid of tigers and wolves eating you when you come so deep into the mountains to gather herbs?”

“I have encountered mountain wolves, but this humble Daoist has animal-repelling powder passed down by my master, which can be of some use.”

The old Daoist spoke nonchalantly, using his hoe to part the wild grass. “The herbs outside have long since been picked clean; we have no choice but to go deeper into the mountains. Don’t you have martial arts to protect yourself? What’s there to be afraid of?”

Qin Sang held a stick in his hand, feeling a bit self-conscious. “Daoist Priest, please don’t tease me. My meager martial arts skills are nothing to boast about.”

The old Daoist chuckled, “It seems to me that the boxing technique Mingyue learned from you isn’t complete, is it?”

“Daoist Priest, you have sharp eyes,” Qin Sang replied. “This ‘Tiger Subduing Long Fist’ technique was taught to me by the elder brother who saved my life. He only had time to teach me three forms. However, this boxing technique is quite common, so I can complete it by consulting a security escort agency in the city later.”