Chapter 96

Song Qingshi finalized his medical plan, entrusting the patients' follow-up care to the town's clinic. He then stocked up on common medicinal herbs from the pharmacy, bought a new pill furnace, and looked forward to an opportunity to practice alchemy. As a physician, having medicine at hand brought him peace of mind.

Feng Jun, somehow, procured a magic boat to transport everyone to the Tianwu Sect.

At their departure, the innkeeper and his wife came out to bid them farewell, waiving all charges and preparing various provisions. The cultivators who had been treated and the families of the injured also gathered, smiling as they presented Song Qingshi with numerous thank-you gifts.

Song Qingshi politely declined most, accepting only a few baskets of eggs for Xiao Bai.

Guided by a divine beast, the magic boat slowly ascended. Song Qingshi stood by the window, gazing at the towns and villages below, where smoke curled from every chimney, and at the mountains and rivers. The scenery was familiar, yet subtly different from his memories… After much contemplation, he finally realized: this world seemed to be free of slavery.

In his recollection, the vast majority of mortals were slaves to cultivators, treated like livestock, living in numb submission. Now, he observed many shops and restaurants run by mortals, workshops bustling with mortal artisans, and medical clinics with mortal apprentices. Most appeared vibrant and hopeful about life.

Once, a mortal who accidentally brushed against a cultivator's robe might have been killed. Now, he frequently saw cultivators and mortals drinking and chatting together, laughing and seemingly coexisting in harmony.

How had all this changed?

"It was Madam Qing Luan. She developed many affordable medicines," Song Jincheng, sensing his confusion, once again boasted about his ancestor. "With the widespread availability of medicine, mortal survival rates increased. Madam Qing Luan recruited a large number of mortals to train as physicians in the Medicine King Valley and established clinics throughout the cultivation world… That period was a dark time, with heavy casualties in the cultivation world and a severe shortage of personnel. Seeing the competent physicians trained by the Medicine King Valley, people began entrusting many tasks to mortals—artisans, physicians, farmers… I can't list them all. In any case, mortals became more numerous, and everyone grew accustomed to it. Some intelligent mortals with decent spiritual roots even gained opportunities in the cultivation world, becoming cultivators. They discovered methods to overcome meridian deficiencies, and many broke through to the Golden Core stage. The White Egret Academy in the Northern Continent, for instance, was founded by mortals and only accepts mortal disciples; it's quite large now."

Song Qingshi praised, "Madam Qing Luan is truly an extraordinary woman."

Song Jincheng smirked, "She just wrote too many medical texts and study materials, tormenting us endlessly. Otherwise, she's quite good."

"Qing Luan isn't that remarkable. She merely compiled and simplified… your master's materials," Feng Jun, seeing Song Qingshi being led astray by this mischievous child, couldn't help but chuckle. "What your master left behind was too vast and complex—even Qing Luan didn't fully master it, far from it. She abandoned rare and difficult medical techniques and pill formulas, focusing instead on common ailments and basic treatments, then summarized them into a curriculum that ordinary people could learn, thereby mass-producing physicians."

Song Qingshi, with his exceptional talent and dedication to medicine, had inherited the legacy of the Medicine King. After millennia of research, he left behind mountains of prescriptions, medical texts, and experimental data. For bone injuries alone, he had eighty-four treatment methods. Qing Luan selected only the eight most common ones, simplified the prescriptions, and incorporated them into textbooks.

The distinction was roughly this:

Song Qingshi's methods could perfectly cure a hundred people, with no lingering side effects, but they were expensive, difficult to learn, and he only ever trained one disciple: Yue Wuhuan.

Qing Luan's simplified methods could cure ninety people, with a chance of side effects, but she could rapidly train thousands of physicians, spreading them across the world. With affordable prices, they could treat hundreds of thousands, even millions, of similar patients.

It was difficult to argue which method was superior.

However, Song Qingshi's research was the fundamental cornerstone of it all.

Feng Jun leaned against Song Qingshi's shoulder and whispered, "I've done everything you asked of me."

Whether it was protecting the Medicine King Valley, upholding his master's will, helping Qing Luan become a great physician, promoting her ideals, or showing leniency during his revenge to prevent the world's destruction—he had done his utmost… Even that annoying "correct answer," he had handled…

He had listened to every word.

Song Qingshi, thinking he was referring to the magic boat, squeezed his hand tightly. "Thank you."

Feng Jun glanced at the fair fingertips peeking from beneath Song Qingshi's wide sleeves and asked eagerly, "Can I have a reward?"

Song Qingshi readily agreed, "Of course. Whatever you want, I'll give it to you."

Feng Jun licked his lips and said suggestively, "Tonight, I'll come to you. We'll… 'study' in bed?"

Song Qingshi was even more delighted. "Wonderful! I'll stay up all night with you. You can 'study' as much as you like."

…

Song Jincheng, hiding nearby, felt that Song Qingshi had been utterly captivated by Feng Jun—his eyes and voice brimming with affection…

A man and a "woman" alone at night, planning to "study"? Even though he was inexperienced, he understood the implications: first, they'd "study" planting manuals on each other, cultivate enough "fruit," then move on to agricultural texts, exploring spring plowing, irrigation, and sowing…

Looking at Song Qingshi's blissful expression, he probably didn't realize he wasn't the plow, but rather the field waiting to be plowed, did he?

How truly pathetic…

He could understand Song Qingshi's feelings—a peerless beauty like Feng Jun throwing herself into his arms? No man could resist. However… Feng Jun wasn't a woman. He was the terrifying Demon King of the Indestructible Peak, on the verge of ascension. How immense must his power be? And those terrifying vines… After Song Qingshi's "field" was plowed, wouldn't it be ruined?

To watch a friend in peril yet not dare to help—what kind of hero was that?

Song Jincheng retreated to a corner, faced the wall, closed his eyes, and refused to look anymore…

Song Qingshi and Feng Jun discussed the issue of the Filth Demon for a while before noticing Song Jincheng sulking in the corner, drawing circles on the ground and muttering something about "friendship" and "loyalty." Assuming he was worried about his friend in the Tianwu Sect, Song Qingshi went over to comfort him. "Your friend will be fine. Don't worry too much. When we return, I'll plead with Mr. Yue to go easy on his punishment."

Song Jincheng turned around, looked into Song Qingshi's sincere and kind eyes, then thought about the suffering awaiting him. Overcome with guilt and self-reproach, he steeled himself, pulled out a small porcelain box from his Mustard Seed Bag, and pressed it into Song Qingshi's hands. Solemnly, he said, "I bought this for you at the pharmacy. This is all I can do as a friend."

Song Qingshi opened the box in confusion, finding a slippery, fragrant balm—osmanthus-scented, with added anti-inflammatory and pain-relieving ingredients. It didn't seem like ordinary medicine. After careful consideration, he asked, "Where is this medicine applied?"

Song Jincheng patted his shoulder mournfully. "Give it to Feng Jun later. He'll like it."

Though Song Qingshi had never used such medicine, his medical knowledge was extensive—he'd studied all types. After a moment's thought, he understood. He discreetly glanced at the gentle and beautiful Feng Jun, feeling that Song Jincheng had mistaken him for a lecher, yet it was difficult to explain that he wasn't crude.

Feng Jun was already his boyfriend. They were courting with the intent to become cultivation partners. Some things would happen naturally when the time came.

Having studied medicine for years, he was well-versed in various physiological structures and phenomena; he wouldn't shy away from discussions of sex. After a brief consideration, he calmly put the box away and told Song Jincheng, "You didn't need to buy this for me. If I need it, I'll formulate it myself."

Song Jincheng was dumbfounded.

Feng Jun heard everything.

After a moment's thought, he pretended he hadn't.

…

By evening, the magic boat arrived near the Tianwu Sect.

Song Qingshi looked at Song Jincheng, about to ask how they should announce themselves, but the boy mysteriously led them around in circles, found a secluded spot, checked the bushes for dog holes, then rolled up his sleeves and began to scale the wall.

Song Qingshi's face darkened as he grabbed him. "What are you doing?"

"Ah Yu's father said he'd beat me on sight," Song Jincheng said gravely. "Don't worry, I have a map of the Tianwu Sect. I know where the disciples' rooms are. Once I sneak in and hide, I'll mimic a crow's call three times. Ah Yu will know I'm here."

Yu Wenyu was a once-in-a-century genius Sword Cultivator, achieving Golden Core at eighteen. The Tianwu Sect regarded him as their hope, dedicating all their resources to his training. He lived up to their expectations—disciplined, diligent, never giving his elders cause for concern.

However, after half a year recuperating in the Medicine King Valley, Song Jincheng had led him astray! He not only taught him to skip classes by climbing walls, flirt with girls, pick fights, and cause trouble, but also secretly took him drinking, leading to a disgraceful scene after they were intoxicated… When the Tianwu Sect Master arrived, both were whipped—fifty strokes each. Yu Wenyu shielded Song Jincheng, attempting to take the blame, and they received an additional thirty strokes for talking back.

Song Qingshi said sincerely, "I also want to hit you."

"Ah Yu is quite pitiful," Song Jincheng insisted stubbornly. "His father burdened him with the entire sect's future. Ah Yu had no childhood, no close friends. From age three, he trained every day—mistakes meant whippings. Despite being the same age, he spoke like an old man, obsessed with rules, so no one wanted to be near him. I couldn't stand his pedantic ways, so I tricked him into going out to play. He kept saying no, but in the end, he had more fun than I did…"

A model student led astray by a slacker, abandoning his studies.

Song Qingshi could understand why the Tianwu Sect Master forbade Song Jincheng from approaching his son. Even he, with his strong academic discipline, had been tempted by Song Jincheng into devouring novels for days. Were it not for his severe injuries, he might have been dragged to a pleasure house to watch performances… Reportedly, there was a Lady Gongsun whose pipa playing was exquisite, her melodies lingering for days, bringing listeners to tears.

He loved music and wanted to listen—but feared angering Feng Jun, so he didn't dare…

Song Qingshi was a bit troubled. He had no official status or invitation, making entry difficult. Even if he got in, he was poor at lying—how would he explain his reason for wanting to see the sect master's son? He feared that merely mentioning "Song Jincheng" would have him thrown out immediately.

Feng Jun prompted, "I saw a token in your Mustard Seed Bag. Try using it."

Song Qingshi remembered this token was for withdrawing money, probably like a bank card?

With no other options, he tried knocking on the main gate and showed the phoenix token to the guards. To his surprise, the guards were terrified, scrambling back to report. A red bird streaked across the sky, and moments later, the Tianwu Sect Master personally came to greet them, treating them with extreme deference, ushering them into the main hall, seating them in places of honor, and serving spiritual tea and celestial fruits.

This seemed like treatment befitting honored guests… Far too extravagant.

Overwhelmed, Song Qingshi cautiously whispered to Feng Jun, "Does he owe me money?"