Chapter 51

Chapter 51

A few days later, the two men, along with a bear, hauling a sled piled high with vine branches, finally arrived at the old doctor's clinic door.

But unlike the scene when Rong Feng had left a few days earlier, the clinic entrance had grown much quieter, with hardly anyone waiting in line, and the streets outside were completely deserted.

This was the first time Bian Hong had witnessed the town in such a state while fully conscious. The bleakness and grief of the scene reminded him of the village that had been torn apart by famine and plague years before.

At least in town, walls and streets separated the buildings, so you couldn't see into the windows and doors of the courtyards at a glance. Not like in the village, where a casual glance while passing by would let him see straight into a neighbor's thatched cottage, right onto the kang bed inside.

A whole family had been struck by the plague and had rotted away on the kang in despair, not one spared. That was why, when Bian Hong found Yuan Ding and Guan Bao still alive in a farmer's woodshed, his body gave out—his legs buckled and he dropped to his knees.

Now the plague was spreading once more, and who knew how many would suffer this time.

But at least there was hope. Bian Hong glanced back at the vines he was hauling, then hurried ahead of Rong Feng to knock on the clinic door.

The little medicine boy opened the door, bundled up even more tightly than before—only his red, tear-swollen eyes were visible.

But when the boy saw Bian Hong standing there alive, he let out a shout and, without a word, grabbed him and stumbled toward the small medicine shed.

"Grandpa can be saved! Grandpa, look—Brother Xi came back from the mountain alive! The plague can be cured!"

Bian Hong was dragged inside, where he saw the old doctor had also fallen ill—just like the plague victims he'd seen before, delirious, with a dark shadow on his brow.

Rong Feng followed them in, carrying the bear and pulling the sled. Seeing the old doctor in such bad shape, he set everything down and came over to take the old man's pulse.

The old man had been perfectly healthy before—advanced in years, but well-versed in medicine, careful with his health, and sturdy as they come. But no matter how strong his body, he was already at an age where decline set in. If he'd kept resting and taking care of himself, living past a hundred would've been no problem.

But when the plague hit, he'd spent days and nights treating patients without rest, barely closing his eyes, burning through his life force. In the end, he caught the plague himself and collapsed into bed, unable to get up.

A doctor can't heal himself. The little medicine boy hadn't finished his training, so all he could do was follow the same prescriptions the old doctor had given the townsfolk and apply them to him. Through luck and sheer persistence, they'd managed to keep him alive this long.

Time waited for no one, especially not for a man of his advanced age. As for the vines' medicinal properties, those would have to wait until the old man woke up to be studied.

So Rong Feng didn't hesitate. He turned, grabbed a big handful of vine leaves from the sled, and dropped them into an old, well-worn medicine mortar nearby. He pounded them hard until he'd squeezed out a small bowl of milky-white juice, then propped the old man up and had the little medicine boy pour it down his throat.

After that, the little medicine boy stayed by the old man's side, sniffling quietly, but still didn't dare talk to Rong Feng. Instead, he asked Bian Hong with tearful eyes.

"Brother Xi, when's my grandpa gonna wake up?"

Bian Hong was at a loss. He didn't know. Last time, he'd been out of his head when sick and had come back to himself just as muddled.

Luckily, in the middle of the night, the old doctor stirred and regained a bit of consciousness. Then, just like Bian Hong, he threw up a good amount of black water and broke into a sweat all over.

But the old man's body seemed better cared for than Bian Hong's, because by the next morning, he was awake.

Still pale from illness, the old man clutched the vines and wept.

Then he led the little medicine boy over and insisted on kneeling to kowtow before Rong Feng. Rong Feng, afraid the old man might pass out from excitement, quickly helped him back to bed.

But the old man still clung to Rong Feng's arm with his withered, dry hands, tears streaming down his weathered face. His family had been physicians for generations, seeking the great cure for all under heaven—and now, maybe, it was within reach.

"With this one medicine alone, blessings flow to all living beings. Child, your merit is complete. You'll surely be richly rewarded in the future."

Rong Feng didn't accept the gesture, but in his heart he thought—he didn't need any great reward. Just being able to live a quiet, peaceful life with Bian Hong was all he could ask for.

The old man said no more. That very day, he reopened the clinic, as if some inner strength had suddenly propped him up. Though barely recovered from illness, he was full of energy.

He split the patients into groups and treated them in batches, constantly experimenting with the vine's medicinal properties. He adjusted the dosage to each person's condition and mixed it with other herbs for better results, avoiding the convulsions the vine caused on its own and making the treatment gentler.

The clinic was short-staffed, but after the old doctor cured his first plague patient, the little medicine shed was packed to the rafters. Bian Hong and Rong Feng had no choice but to stick around and help for a few days.

But as patient after patient was cured, more than half the vines were used up, and Rong Feng decided it was time to head back into the mountains for more.

This time, he decided to go alone. Bian Hong had just recovered and was still too weak to make the trek with him again.

Rong Feng also turned down the old doctor's suggestion to round up some strong men from town to go with him. Just because he and Bian Hong could make it into Mount Miemeng didn't mean just anyone could.

In the deep mountains in early spring, besides the fierce beasts, even a single tiny bug on a tree trunk could kill you if you touched it.

Bringing people along wouldn't make them helpers—they'd just be dead weight, and quite possibly get themselves killed. It wasn't worth it.

But the people suffering from this plague were far more than just this one village or town. Even if Rong Feng brought back more vines, it would still be a drop in the bucket.

Everyone at the clinic was stumped by this problem.

But on the afternoon before Rong Feng was set to leave, a massive goshawk kept circling above the clinic, drawing the townsfolk's eyes skyward as they murmured in awe.

Several people who'd been cured of the plague and stayed to help at the clinic rushed in to call the old doctor outside.

"Old Shi, come out and look! There's a giant eagle flying over our medicine hall—surely it's an auspicious omen!"

The onlookers felt their spirits lifted, all believing that the appearance of such an auspicious beast meant the plague would soon pass, and from then on they'd live in peace and prosperity.

But Rong Feng, upon hearing this, hurried out of the medicine shed and headed straight for a small hill outside the town.

Bian Hong had never seen Rong Feng look so serious—he'd run off without even a word of explanation. Worried, Bian Hong followed behind him.

But Rong Feng was too fast. Running on flat ground, his posture tall and straight, he moved as if flying—when he gave it his all, his speed wasn't much slower than Silver Frost.

Bian Hong couldn't keep up. After running for a good while, he finally caught up to the man on the small hill outside the town.

He bent over, gasping for breath, hands braced on his thighs, and looked up at Rong Feng.

Then the sight before him made Bian Hong freeze in astonishment, his breath catching in his throat.

A massive goshawk—easily as tall as Bian Hong himself—was perched on the small hill, its broad wings folded. Rong Feng was pulling a small bamboo tube from beneath the goshawk's wing feathers, opening the sealed opening, and drawing out a sheet of golden paper.

The man read for only a moment, and then a smile appeared on that face that the villagers all called fierce and forbidding.

The smile didn't fade. Instead, he turned and pulled Bian Hong over, showing him the paper—made by some craft Bian Hong couldn't identify—with characters written on it in cinnabar, the calligraphy elegant and flowing, graceful and beautiful.

Bian Hong still couldn't read a single character, but the script looked familiar, as if it bore some resemblance to the carvings on Mountain Lord's stone.

But Rong Feng could read it, and he was overjoyed. "The plague is no longer a concern."

What the goshawk had delivered was a dispatch that had lain dormant for a long time without being issued—a Mountain Guard mobilization order.

The order was simple: it commanded the current Mountain Guard stationed at the peak to enter the mountains, find the nine-eyed vine, and deliver it to the Prefects of various prefectures and counties, to save the world from plague. It was a duty that could not be shirked.

And there were no fewer than three hundred and seventy-six such orders, distributed across nearly every famous mountain and great river.

In places Rong Feng and Bian Hong couldn't see, across countless strange peaks and ridges, perhaps a reindeer suddenly leaped before a man practicing swordplay, presenting the same bamboo tube.

Or a giant elephant paused at a thatched hut deep in the mountains, trumpeting to the sky to draw the occupant out, then waving its trunk to deliver its charge.

Or a pack of leopards traveled together, leaping from hidden trees into a girl's garden where she was drying fruit, placing the bamboo tubes held in their mouths into the straw baskets of dried fruit, then turning and vanishing swiftly into the depths of the forest...

For now, though, Bian Hong found it all wondrous. He'd never seen such a huge "eagle," and it was incredibly intelligent—it stood quietly beside Rong Feng, waiting for him to finish reading the letter before putting the bamboo tube back.

Rong Feng, while talking with Bian Hong, pulled out the small token of the Mountain Guard from his bosom, dipped it in a fingertip-sized dab of ink paste, pressed it firmly onto the golden paper, then tucked it away and tied it back onto the giant eagle's wing.

The giant eagle was cooperative, lifting its wing in anticipation as Rong Feng reached out.

"This is a roc eagle. Six hundred years ago, the founding Grand State Preceptor who set up the Mountain Guard kept one for sending messages and fighting in battles. Later, every generation tasked with liaising with the Mountain Guard raised one. These creatures are rare and hard to find."

Rong Feng had only seen an eagle flying from afar over the mountain the day before his master left.

And given that roc eagles can live nearly a hundred years, it might even be the same one.

Bian Hong listened to Rong Feng's explanations, blinking as if he were hearing a story.

With the worry about the plague gone, Bian Hong was now extremely curious about this eagle.

Rong Feng watched Bian Hong, who stood beside him in silence, just blinking at the roc eagle, and narrowed his blue eye with a slight smirk.

Then he took Bian Hong's hand and guided it toward the roc eagle's sleek feathers.

"Go ahead, touch it."

"I really can?"

Rong Feng nodded. This eagle buddy should do him the favor.

Sure enough, the roc eagle didn't move, and after Bian Hong touched the feathers on its wing, it even stretched its neck forward, as if to say: "I'll allow you to touch my neck fluff."

Bian Hong instinctively reached deeper into the soft neck fluff. The roc eagle's body ran hot, perfect for warming hands in this spring season when the chill hadn't fully faded.

But the roc eagle didn't stay long. It spread its wings and, catching the rising air currents on the hillside, took flight.

Only then did Bian Hong realize why Rong Feng had run so far and stopped on a hillside. Now it was clear: the roc eagle was so large it needed the air currents to take off.

The roc eagle flapped its wings just a few times and rose high into the sky. The wind from its wings whipped both their hair into a mess.

But Bian Hong was still delighted.

He finally broke into a smile and said something to the man beside him, sounding excited.

"That's amazing."

Then, watching the roc eagle fade into the distance, he added, "If only I could keep one."

Rong Feng was taken aback, then, for the first time in days, flatly refused Bian Hong's suggestion.

"It's purely carnivorous. It eats nearly a whole cow in one meal."

At the mention of "a whole cow," Bian Hong quickly tore his gaze from the figure in the sky and turned to Rong Feng, still in awe.

The two stared at each other, wide-eyed.

Finally, unable to hold it in, they both burst out laughing with a snort.

As for the roc eagle flying away, it felt a sudden chill run through its body, but then it flapped its wings and sped up.

Its master had said that after delivering this message, it would get to eat a whole cow!