Chapter 1935: Looking After the Sick

The Mortal World

Qingyang Temple.

It was more populated than in previous years.

Vermilion Bird was sound asleep in its nest.

Marquis Luo occupied a side hall, needing a long period of seclusion to temper this physical body.

Taiyi was in the cellar.

From now on, he would likely be the one accompanying Little Wu and Yulang to receive pilgrims.

A daoist priest and two daoist apprentices, in a sense, corresponded to the situation from back then.

“Is Qingyang Temple the name of our sect?” Yulang stood beside Qin Sang, looking at the wooden plaque. Qin Sang had never told him the name of their sect before.

“Yes.”

Qin Sang nodded. “You also have elder brothers and sisters in the sect, but I don't know if you'll ever have the chance to meet them in this lifetime.”

Yulang, still a bit confused, asked, “What are the names of my elder brothers and sisters?”

“Your eldest brother…”

Qin Sang paused. “He is your martial uncle's disciple, but I have always considered him my direct disciple. His name is Li Yufu, so you can regard him as your eldest brother.”

Then there were Aunt Mei, Bai Hanqiu, and Shen Chen—those who truly became disciples.

As for Tan Yien and others, Qin Sang did not mention them.

Yulang earnestly committed the names to memory. Suddenly, he saw his master turn to look down the mountain.

After the temple was renovated, Yulang busied himself with repairing the road. This was necessary to allow pilgrims to walk up the mountain; otherwise, there would be no offerings.

Yulang intermittently unearthed some stone slabs and flagstones from the ground. There had originally been an ancient path here, which was now derelict.

After clearing the weeds and tidying it up, it became a usable small path. Yulang planned to extend it all the way to the village at the foot of the mountain, connecting it to the road leading to the town, but that part was not yet finished.

However, someone was now walking up from the foot of the mountain.

“Huh? Who repaired this temple?”

The newcomer was a man dressed in coarse cloth clothes and straw sandals, holding an axe. He appeared to be a woodcutter who had come into the mountains to chop firewood.

Looking at the renovated temple, the woodcutter's face was full of surprise. Then, he saw Qin Sang and Yulang in front of the temple.

“You…”

“Greetings, worthy sir. I am Qingfeng, a humble daoist, and he is my disciple,” Qin Sang said, giving a daoist bow as if he were a mortal priest.

“Oh, oh… Greetings, Reverend, greetings…”

The woodcutter, who had never encountered such a scene, awkwardly returned the greeting and then pointed to the temple. “Did the two of you do this?”

Qin Sang nodded. “I, a humble daoist, was traveling and came upon this temple, finding it in such ruin. It was a great pity, so I decided to repair it as a place to stay. This temple should be ownerless, correct?”

“Ownerless! Ownerless!” The woodcutter waved his hands repeatedly. “As long as I can remember, this temple has been empty. It just kept falling into disrepair, and fewer people came. Oh! You've repaired it so well!”

He had noticed the paintings on the window lattices and marveled at them.

“My disciple here is quite strong. He learned all sorts of things before joining the temple. On this mountain, there's no shortage of wood and stone, so we just pieced things together and patched them up,” Qin Sang said with a smile.

It was the first time Yulang had heard his master praise him, and his face flushed slightly with a touch of excitement.

“Excellent craftsmanship! Excellent craftsmanship!”

The woodcutter gave a thumbs-up, praising them repeatedly. After admiring the exterior, he pointed to the main hall. “Can one worship immortals inside?”

He recalled that the statues of deities in the main hall had been weathered by wind and rain for years, and were almost completely collapsed.

“The deity statues were also repaired according to their original appearance. After all, I am a newcomer, occupying someone else's place; I can't possibly usurp the host,” Qin Sang said, stepping aside and gesturing with his hand.

“That's true.”

The woodcutter didn't ask what kind of immortals they were. No matter which deity, it was certainly fine to offer a bow upon encountering them; whether it was useful or not could be considered later.

Just as he was about to enter the temple, the woodcutter suddenly stopped, a little embarrassed. “I came up here to chop firewood. I didn't bring any incense or money, so…”

“No matter. Qingyang Temple will not charge for offerings from now on. There is free incense in the hall; worthy sir, you may take as much as you wish.”

“No charge for offerings?”

The woodcutter was surprised. Even the City God Temple in town collected offerings. “If you don't take money, what will you eat?”

In this desolate mountain wilderness, even if they cultivated the land and planted crops, they wouldn't have a harvest until the following year.

“I, a humble daoist, have some medical knowledge. I can treat illnesses and live off consultation fees.”

As he spoke, Qin Sang recalled his days at Qingyang Temple. Before he joined, Daoist Jixin used to treat people's illnesses with Mingyue, subsisting on meager consultation fees.

Treating and saving lives would certainly attract more people than running a temple, allowing Little Wu to interact more with others and gain vitality.

Indeed, Qin Sang's strategy proved correct. The effects were evident: Little Wu was much livelier than before and no longer impulsively called for violence.

“Reverend, you can treat illnesses?”

The woodcutter's tone immediately changed. A highly skilled doctor was far more useful than a daoist priest.

He secretly observed Qin Sang and found he couldn't discern the age of this temple master. He looked young, yet possessed a unique aura. The woodcutter couldn't quite describe the feeling, but he had only seen it in people of status and great learning—it made one feel utterly at ease upon seeing it.

Upon receiving an affirmative reply, the woodcutter turned to run back, only then remembering he hadn't yet offered incense to the deities.

The woodcutter slapped his forehead, hastily entered the temple, and then quickly exited. Feeling bad, he chopped another bundle of firewood and brought it over, leaving it without a word, and swiftly returned to the village, arriving at a household.

“San'er! San'er! Are you home?”

The door opened, and a thin young man emerged, speaking with a weak, breathless voice. “Brother Zhuzi, what's wrong?”

“How's your father doing? Let me tell you, I met a doctor who can cure illnesses. Quickly, take your father to see him.”

“This…”

The young man glanced inside the house, hesitating. “Where is this doctor from? How is he compared to Doctor Liu? How much… does he charge?”

The last three words were barely audible.

To treat his father, they had invited Doctor Liu from the town and bought several doses of herbal medicine, but there was no improvement whatsoever.

Doctor Liu had determined that his father wouldn't live for more than a month and told him not to waste his efforts, as sending him to the city would yield the same result.

In truth, his family had no money to seek medical treatment in the city. Those few doses of herbal medicine were obtained by selling their family's grain, and they didn't know what they would eat in the future.

They could only wait for his father to die.

“Don't worry, I asked. They don't charge much, and you can even pay on credit. Never mind where the doctor is from, just let him take a look. A dead horse…”

The woodcutter realized that saying this was inauspicious and quickly shut his mouth. Without another word, he rushed into the house, seeing a skeletal old man lying motionless on the bed, looking like a corpse, with almost no discernible breathing.

Taking the old man up the mountain would likely tire him to death halfway.

“You wait here at home. I'll go ask if we can invite the doctor to come here,” the woodcutter said, rushing out the door with great urgency, running back to Qingyang Temple tirelessly.

When he explained the situation, Qin Sang called out.

“Yulang, Little Wu, bring the medicine chest and follow me down the mountain.”

“Yes!”

Yulang consciously picked up the medicine chest, which contained herbs freshly gathered from the mountain, and walked side-by-side with Little Wu, following Qin Sang.

Qingyang Medical Clinic had officially opened.

The few of them walked down the mountain.

The temple was on the southeastern side of the mountain, while the village was at its western foot, requiring a detour.

A river flowed around the village. It was said that there were originally seven wooden rafts on the river, which is why the village was called Seven Rafts Village. Now, the river was almost dry.

Here, mountains were abundant but land was scarce, so the villagers were far from wealthy. However, the village was large, with over a thousand households.

As they walked down the mountain along the riverbank towards the village, Yulang's steps suddenly faltered, and he looked towards the opposite bank.

On the opposite bank, there was a bamboo grove, from which clear sounds of reading emanated.

“Heaven and Earth are black and yellow, the universe vast and wild.The sun rises and sets, the stars spread across the sky…”

Yulang was surprised to find that the Master had also taught him this book; it was used for teaching basic literacy to young children.

Two different countries, thousands of miles apart, surprisingly read the same books.

He slightly parted his lips and silently recited along.

“That's Mr. Chen Xiucai's school there. His scholarship is top-notch!”

The woodcutter gave a thumbs-up, his face full of pride. “Families from the town send their children to study there. Even wealthy and powerful families from the city have invited Mr. Chen Xiucai to be their private tutor, but he just won't go. He simply prefers our village!”

Entering the patient's home, the young man appeared awkward and anxious. Qin Sang's single statement—that he wouldn't charge a consultation fee if he couldn't cure the illness—completely put him at ease.

Inside the house, the young man nervously watched Qin Sang take the old man's pulse. Outside, curious villagers peeked their heads in, eager to watch.

The woodcutter stood by, greatly boasting of his own contribution, his words flowing like a river. To add persuasiveness, he also took the opportunity to praise Qin Sang.

“Yulang, bring paper and a brush.”

Qin Sang took some herbs from the medicine chest, then wrote down a few additional ingredients not in the chest, instructing Yulang to gather them fresh from the mountains.

The young man hesitated, wanting to speak but holding back.

The woodcutter rushed into the house. “Reverend, is San'er's father still salvageable?”

“Yes, he can be saved. This elder gentleman's body is severely depleted. We'll recuperate him first, then treat the illness. I have prescribed two formulas. Once my disciple brings the medicine, he will teach you how to decoct it,” Qin Sang said, closing the medicine chest and leading Little Wu outside.

Everyone was half-believing, half-doubting. Qin Sang offered no further explanation and simply returned to the mountain on his own.

An hour later, Yulang gathered the fresh herbs and rushed down the mountain, using still-unfamiliar incantations to dry the medicinal plants along the way.

Back at the patient's home, Yulang personally decocted the medicine.

The young man fed the medicine to the old man bit by bit.

After painfully swallowing the herbal soup, the old man fell into a deep sleep. He didn't, as in storybooks, spit out a mouthful of foul blood and instantly recover from his severe illness.

Yulang knew that his master had only used ordinary herbs, which were incomparable to the spirit elixirs given to him before.

“It seems Master is truly going to be a mortal doctor.”

Yulang thought to himself, noticing that the old man's breathing was gradually becoming smoother.

Even using only mortal medicine, Qin Sang could identify the root cause of the illness at a glance, and his precision in prescribing medicine was far beyond that of any divine doctor in the mortal world.

The young man and the woodcutter also noticed the old man's change.

“A divine doctor! Truly a divine doctor!”

The woodcutter murmured.

“Take it once in the morning and once in the evening. After three days, switch to the other formula. I've already prepared both for you…”

Yulang patiently instructed the young man and refused the few copper coins the young man had borrowed. “My master said the consultation fee can be recorded on credit for now. It won't be too late to pay once your father recovers.”

“Take good care of your father. I'll see off the young divine doctor.”

The woodcutter quickly followed them out, insistent on accompanying Yulang back to the temple. Yulang had no choice but to go with him.

When they reached the riverbank, they once again heard the sounds of reading from the bamboo grove.

As if by a strange impulse, Yulang crossed to the opposite bank using the wooden rafts. Seeing his unusual expression, the woodcutter fell silent.

Just as they reached the opposite bank, two figures emerged from the bamboo grove. They were clearly scholars, dressed in white robes, with an extraordinary bearing.

“Brother Chen, please go back! Having met such a talent today, this trip was not in vain for me, Ye. I will surely often disturb you in the coming days, Brother Chen, I only hope you won't grow tired of it.”

One of them cupped his hands in greeting. Turning around, he saw Yulang, and his eyes lit up. “This landscape actually nurtures such a spirited and intelligent daoist apprentice! No wonder Brother Chen insists on living in seclusion here; it truly is a place of excellent feng shui.”

“Brother Ye, you've misunderstood…”

The other person was indeed Mr. Chen Xiucai. After seeing off his guest, he turned around, slightly cupped his hands, and asked with a smile, “Brother Zhuzi, I heard you invited a divine doctor. Is it this young daoist priest?”

“Mr. Chen Xiucai has also heard?”

The woodcutter scratched his head and said excitedly, “The divine doctor is the young daoist priest's master! And the young daoist priest is also a young divine doctor!”

“Yulang greets Mr. Chen.”

Yulang was already a cultivator, yet facing Mr. Chen Xiucai, who was clearly a mortal, he felt as nervous as he used to feel when facing his former Master.

Mr. Chen Xiucai had merely asked casually, but seeing the woodcutter's sincere expression, he couldn't help but be secretly surprised.

“Oh? My humble wife has been feeling unwell for some time. Would it be too much trouble for the young daoist priest to take a look? Other doctors said it was a dizziness-related illness.”

Yulang hesitated for a moment. “I can try. If I can't cure it, then we can invite my master.”

Mr. Chen Xiucai was overjoyed and immediately led Yulang into the schoolhouse.

The family's living quarters were behind the schoolhouse.

Passing through the schoolhouse, the sounds of reading filled their ears. The children sat upright, holding scrolls, swaying their heads as they recited.

It was such a familiar scene that Yulang almost saw his old Master patrolling with his hands behind his back, tapping anyone who wasn't paying attention with a ruler.

“Young daoist priest, have you also studied in a schoolhouse?” Mr. Chen Xiucai observed his expression and guessed a few things.

Yulang nodded without further explanation. After walking for a while, he saw another bamboo building.

Mr. Chen Xiucai's reputation for talent was widespread; he didn't just teach young children.

Some elegant young men in white robes were in the bamboo building, discussing everything under the sun, composing poems, and creating paintings.

Entering the inner hall, they met Madam Chen.

Mr. Chen Xiucai explained the situation and asked Madam Chen to extend her fair wrist for Yulang to take her pulse.

Madam Chen had seen too many doctors and had long given up hope, but the more she looked at Yulang, this young daoist apprentice, the more she liked him.

Since becoming a disciple, Yulang's temperament had been subtly changing, especially after embarking on the path of cultivation. He now had an added spiritual aura, yet the steadfastness in his brows remained.

“Thank you for your trouble, young daoist priest.”

Madam Chen, who stood before him, looked much younger than his Mistress, yet her voice was equally gentle and kind.

He then looked at Mr. Chen Xiucai, who was as learned in poetry and classics as his old Master.

Yulang's nose stung, and tears almost welled up. Without hesitation, he channeled his spiritual energy into Madam Chen's meridians.

Madam Chen had contracted a serious illness during her pregnancy, which left a lingering ailment. Ordinary herbs could not cure it; it wasn't life-threatening, but if left untreated for too long, it would damage her vital energy.

Even though it consumed the spiritual energy he had painstakingly cultivated, Yulang felt no regret whatsoever.

To avoid difficult explanations, Yulang took out a few silver needles and, pretending to be performing acupuncture, pricked a few points on Madam Chen's head.

By the time Yulang returned to the temple, the sun had already set behind the western mountains, and shadows lengthened across the sky.

Inside the main hall, a small lamp flickered, and the fragrant scent of spiritual medicine emanated.

Yulang felt a little guilty. He tiptoed into the main hall and saw a large vat and a vat of brewed spiritual medicine placed inside.

“Go soak in it,” Qin Sang said indifferently, seated cross-legged on a futon with his back to the hall entrance.

“Yes!”

Yulang saw his elder sister leaning against their master, seemingly asleep. His awkwardness diminished slightly, and he quickly entered the medicine vat, instantly feeling comfortable and relaxed all over.

He rested his head on the rim of the vat, feeling the faint wisps of medicinal energy seep into his body, cleansing his essence and marrow.

Under the cover of night, in the tranquil temple, only the crackling of burning firewood could be heard.

“What are you thinking about?” Qin Sang suddenly asked, startling Yulang.

“Ma… Master, I'd like to go down the mountain to read when I have free time, if that's allowed?” Yulang spoke like a child who had done something wrong.

After all, who would want to read books written by mortals after cultivating immortal techniques?

“You may.”

To Yulang's surprise, his master granted permission directly.

Qin Sang slightly turned his head. “Little Wu, would you like to go and study?”