Chapter 52

Chapter 52

After the roc flew away, the townsfolk came rushing over.

The old doctor, who had been treating patients and administering acupuncture in the clinic, also hitched up his robe and ran out after the two.

The old man's legs had never been great, and in recent years he rarely left the house. But when he saw Rong Feng suddenly dash out, and Bian Hong follow without a second word, he figured the two had hit some kind of trouble.

Even setting aside his friendship with the two, they were the only hope against the plague—they couldn't afford anything to go wrong. If anyone dared to target this young couple, the old man would gladly give his own life to protect them.

So he yanked the silver needles out of his patients' backs, called for the little medicine boy, and the two of them, leaning on each other, headed out of town.

When the roomful of patients saw the doctor run off, they were terrified something had happened to the only doctor for a hundred li capable of curing the plague. After all, the old man was already past fifty—him tearing off like that wasn't good.

So when Bian Hong and Rong Feng came down from the slope, they saw Old Shi from the clinic leading the pack at the city gate, tottering along with the little medicine boy in tow, followed by a long line of people.

First came those who helped at the clinic, then the patients waiting in line for treatment. Behind them came folks who had no clue what was going on—seeing a large group rushing out of the city, they simply followed along out of curiosity.

The more they ran, the larger the crowd grew. By the time they exited the city, they even roused the city guards. The soldiers on duty, in armor and carrying spears, followed behind the civilians, pushing out of the city.

"..."

Bian Hong was momentarily stunned, then turned to Rong Feng for confirmation.

"Are we at war again?"

Didn't they just sign a peace treaty at the border? How'd it turn into a siege in the span of a heartbeat?

Rong Feng was silent too. He was used to living alone in the mountains, and suddenly seeing so many people charging toward him made him feel a little "crowd-dizzy."

It wasn't until the old doctor stumbled and weaved his way over to the couple that they realized it was all a big misunderstanding.

But when he heard about the contents of the Mountain Guard's dispatch order, the old man was delighted. As Bian Hong helped him walk back, the old man sighed the whole way, tears rolling down his cheeks, as if years of bottled-up grief had finally let loose.

The onlookers dispersed, and the patients followed the doctor back to the clinic.

Only the garrison was left. Already shorthanded because of the plague, they'd suited up and marched out ready for a last stand—only to arrive at the city gate, swords out, staring at nothing.

The area outside the city was utterly quiet. Not a soul, not even a rat.

But after this incident, Rong Feng learned his lesson. In the past, he'd always walked alone—no one to answer to, he simply went where he pleased. Good or bad, life or death, he carried it himself.

But things were different now. He had a family, ties to the world that ran in countless threads—pull one, and a whole mess comes unraveled.

Before doing anything, he needed to leave word.

So, before heading back into the mountains, he gave Bian Hong a detailed rundown of instructions: make sure to stew and eat that old ginseng on time, don't overwork yourself, the bear cub should get goat's milk first, and the two kids should stay at the family shrine until he returned to make further plans.

Bian Hong stood by the medicine pot, listening to it bubble as he tilted his head, watching the man drone on in his deep, rumbling voice.

He didn't cut him off, because this was a genuinely rare sight.

Rong Feng had always been a man of few words—sometimes it seemed like he had to count every word before letting it out. When trouble hit, he acted first and talked later, or sometimes didn't talk at all, leaving Bian Hong to figure it out long after.

He'd figured that was just how the man was.

But now, watching Rong Feng stand before him with his head bowed, still not finished with his instructions, Bian Hong couldn't help but snort out a laugh.

Rong Feng went quiet immediately. Then, as Bian Hong looked up at him, the man reached out quick and pinched Bian Hong's cheek.

Unfortunately, the old doctor happened to walk by just then and saw the whole thing. He let out an "Aiyo!" and slapped a hand over his eyes, turning away.

"I didn't see anything—nothing at all."

Rong Feng yanked his hand back. He could never help these little gestures toward Bian Hong, and getting caught at it now had him feeling embarrassed.

Bian Hong, meanwhile, covered his red, pinched cheek and shot the man a hard glare. This guy had been getting handsy lately, and he had a strong grip—even if he didn't seem to realize it himself.

"Old Shi, is something the matter?"

Hearing Bian Hong speak, the old doctor turned back around with a grin. "Just now Rong Feng mentioned he's heading into the mountains to gather herbs. The thing is, I'm still missing a few key medicinal ingredients. If you happen to run across any on the way, I'd be much obliged if you could bring some back."

The herbs on Mount Miemeng were all at least a century old, and even at the same age, they were several times more potent than anything found elsewhere. That was why he always paid Rong Feng double the market price for his herbs.

Rong Feng nodded, stepped forward, and took the list from the old man's hand. A quick scan told him everything was easy to find—nothing growing on cliff faces.

Seeing Rong Feng nod, the old doctor finally relaxed. "When you bring them back, I'll pay you the usual rate."

Rong Feng said it wasn't necessary. These herbs were all going toward treating the plague anyway. The old man had been selling his medicines at rock-bottom prices to fight the epidemic—when the little medicine boy had tallied it up on his abacus that day, they'd taken a loss of half their value.

The old man wasn't in it for money, nor did he spare himself any effort. It was, he supposed, for the ideals and aspirations of generations of physicians in his family. Rong Feng felt he couldn't compare, let alone accept payment for the herbs.

When Bian Hong saw Rong Feng off at the city gate at noon, even the garrison's routine inspection was handled smoothly—Rong Feng stood at the gate and gave the Junior Officer on duty a clear, concise account of his business.

Bian Hong stood nearby watching Rong Feng without a word, until the man finished with the soldiers and reached out to pinch his cheek again. "What are you looking at?"

Bian Hong quickly raised his hand to block him. "Nothing. Be careful on the road."

When the soldiers on duty heard he was going to gather herbs to treat the plague, they hurriedly opened the city gates. That wasn't enough—the Junior Officer even personally hauled out a large pile of weapons from the garrison for Rong Feng to choose from, saying only that Mount Miemeng was dangerous and the brave man should take every precaution.

By the end, the Junior Officer was practically ready to strip off his own armor and give it to Rong Feng, so worried was he that the man might meet with danger in the mountains.

Rong Feng quickly waved him off, then hurried out of the city under Bian Hong's watchful gaze.

Behind him, the garrison soldiers, led by the Junior Officer, kept banging their weapons against the city walls and shouting farewells even after Rong Feng had walked a great distance.

This gave Rong Feng a splitting headache—he truly wasn't good at handling such scenes.

It seemed that leaving word had its limits after all.

Bian Hong, standing inside the city gate, watched Rong Feng's figure grow smaller and smaller in the distance. Only when the heavy doors slammed shut with a "boom" before his eyes did he lower his head and turn back.

There was still much to be done.

But within just a few days, Rong Feng returned from the mountains. Traveling alone made him faster—no need for rest, no need to build fires for warmth or cooking. He found his targets and made the round trip without wasting a moment.

This time, however, Rong Feng couldn't slip back in quietly. The moment he appeared outside the city, the soldiers on the walls erupted, clanging their weapons together in a clamorous welcome.

Rong Feng paused in the distance, momentarily tempted not to enter the city at all.

Bian Hong was still at the clinic entrance, distributing food and water to the waiting patients, when he noticed many people on the street running toward the city gate. He quickly stopped a child.

"Where are you off to? What's happening at the city gate?"

The child was missing a tooth, which reminded Bian Hong of Yuan Ding. He wondered how the two children were doing at the family shrine these days—he didn't dare visit, afraid of passing the plague to the self-combed women.

The children recovered quickly once they took the medicine, but the elder aunties were all advanced in years. Illness wore down their hearts and sapped their vitality—even with good medicine, they might not pull through. He had seen too many such cases at the clinic these days: elderly people already at the end of their candle's wick, for whom even a chill could be fatal, let alone a plague.

But the child was excited. Raising his hand, he quickly wiped his nose with a sleeve shiny as forged iron.

"I heard the hero who went up Mount Mieming to gather herbs is back. My dad got better thanks to that medicine, and he's already out plowing the fields today. I've gotta go welcome him!"

With that, he brushed Bian Hong off and dashed toward the city gate.

Bian Hong hadn't expected to learn of Rong Feng's return this way, but he had no time to think it over. He shoved his basket of flatbreads at a woman in line and took off for the city gate without a backward glance.

Before Bian Hong could even get settled in the crowd, the heavy gates were pulled open by four soldiers, revealing a man waiting outside, hauling a big load of vines behind him.

The moment he appeared, the crowd at the gate erupted—some cheered, others clapped, and a few gasped in awe.

"Heavens, why does that man have a blue eye? So scary!"

But others brushed it off, "What do you know? Anyone who can get into Mount Mieming is no ordinary person—even Lord Ma has three eyes."

Rong Feng frowned at the noisy crowd and, without sparing them a glance, pulled his sled straight toward the medical hall.

It wasn't until he looked up that he spotted a familiar figure waiting behind the crowd.

Bian Hong watched the man's furrowed brow and stern face instantly relax, and his eyes crinkled with a smile as he walked toward him.

Bian Hong smiled back and raised his arm to wave at Rong Feng.

When the man reached him, Bian Hong shared some big news that had come about since the plague hit.

"The higher-ups sent a bunch of imperial physicians, and together with Old Shi, they've come up with a cure in pill form."

Everything was in place; all that was missing was the final piece.

With Rong Feng's return, the medical hall produced a large batch of pills the next day, handing them out to villages hit hard by the plague. Folks didn't have to pay—the imperial treasury covered it, and the arriving physicians even made up for the losses Old Doctor had taken from delivering medicine every day.

The only thing running short was vines. But before the prefecture could arrange for delivery, a few people showed up outside the gate. They didn't come in, just brought a ton of vines and asked to see the Mountain Guard of Mount Mieming.

This was a motley crew: a swordsman on horseback hauling a few big carts, an old Daoist with a cow-drawn cart and two young disciples, and a young woman in odd clothes leading a string of camels.

Bian Hong figured they were probably other Mountain Guards. "You ever met another Mountain Guard?"

Rong Feng shook his head as he headed for the gate. "They say there are three hundred and seventy-six of us, but the mountains are so far apart that we don't leave our posts for long. So we rarely meet in a lifetime."

Even the ones closer by would only reach out to nearby Mountain Guards in emergencies, using special methods to call for help.

But Rong Feng had never reached out to another Mountain Guard. Since his master left, he'd just stayed put, guarding his own home and mountain.

So meeting them now felt pretty strange.

At one point, Rong Feng had even figured his master's stories were made up—stuff like Mountain Guards, the Water Spirit Mountain Lord, and legacies, all just tricks to get him to train in martial arts.

But now, seeing these folks in front of him, it finally felt real.

Their inner energy came from the same source, their techniques from the same root—you could tell at a glance.

When they saw Rong Feng and Bian Hong, they got off their mounts and came over, introducing themselves.

"Sikong Yi of Danxue Mountain."

"Daochongzi of Yufa Mountain."

"Lin Yao of Di Mountain."

"On orders from the Mountain Guards, we're here to deliver medicine."