Chapter 12: Gathering Herbs
"I have two older brothers at home, so my father need not worry about the family line."
Qin Sang tried hard to ingratiate himself. "Daoist Master, with your vast knowledge and superb medical skills, you must have had a distinguished past. What were you originally?"
"I have been a Daoist since I was young, but…"
Daoist Jixin sipped his tea and, looking at Ming Yue, said slowly, "My master was once an imperial physician. In his youth, he was quite proud and ambitious. However, once he misused a medicinal herb, nearly facing execution, he was expelled from the palace. Disheartened, he turned to Daoism and called himself the Wandering Man. My Daoist name was given by him, and all my skills were learned from him. So remember, when you practice medicine on your own in the future, you must be careful and thoughtful in prescribing and using medicines. Do not be careless."
Ming Yue swallowed the pastry in his mouth and replied solemnly, "I understand."
"So your master comes from a prestigious background!"
Qin Sang admired Daoist Jixin, refilling his tea. "Your master was honored as an imperial physician and walked within the palace. He must have known many secrets. Did he ever see an immortal master in person?"
The old Daoist shook his head. "He never saw one. However, when he was an imperial physician, he heard many rumors that there were immortal masters visiting the palace and mingling with the royal family. Wealth, beauty, and fame are tempting; in my view, even those so-called immortal masters are unlikely to escape human desires and cannot be considered transcendent."
Qin Sang was astonished.
His preconceived notion of immortals was that they lived among morning dew and mist, secluded in mountains, caves, or blessed lands, free from worldly affairs and rarely appearing in front of people.
How wrong I was!
Should I try my luck in the capital?
Daoist Jixin seemed to read Qin Sang’s thoughts and dissuaded him, "Do not harbor such foolish dreams. Even though my master served as an imperial physician for over thirty years, constantly moving in and out of palaces and royal residences, he never saw an immortal master in person, only heard a few legends. Moreover, if there were truly opportunities for immortality in the capital, wouldn’t the princes and nobles be fighting over it? How could it be your turn?"
…
Looking at the bright moon and listening to the chanting of the master and disciple, Qin Sang sat on the bed, remaining silent for a long time before finally smiling wryly.
If encounters with immortality were so easy, everyone in this world would become an immortal. Regardless, he still had the Netherworld Scripture, and a glimmer of hope remained.
Realizing this, Qin Sang set aside his unrealistic fantasies and focused on understanding the Netherworld Scripture.
Unconsciously, winter had arrived, and the old Daoist had taken in several refugee families, bringing more life to the temple.
A sudden snowfall covered the mountains overnight.
The peaks turned white, and Qin Sang followed the old Daoist and his disciple down the mountain to provide medical aid. Seeing the dead refugees by the roadside, he felt a pang of pity. The old Daoist lamented, and as a poor Daoist with only a few old rooms in Qingyang Temple, he could shelter only so many homeless people.
They could only do what was within their means.
Qin Sang crouched by a stone hollow, tending a fire. The pot was filled with a large quantity of cold-repelling herbs, brewed into a medicinal soup to be distributed to the refugees.
While absentmindedly tending the fire, Qin Sang continuously recited the Netherworld Scripture in his heart.
He had now memorized the Netherworld Scripture thoroughly, having pondered each verse countless times. The translation had not changed for days, and he felt he had a deep understanding of it. He planned to begin cultivating it tonight!
The accumulated snow had yet to melt, and the moon hung high in the sky, making the night as bright as day.
Several families living at the temple huddled in the front rooms, but Qin Sang still had his own private space, so he didn’t worry about being discovered.
He formed the seals and sat cross-legged, following the instructions in the Netherworld Scripture, trying to enter a meditative state and cultivate.
Though he had thoroughly memorized the scripture, he sat for several hours without making any progress. Not only was he unable to calm his mind, but distracting thoughts also surged. He was secretly anxious, attempting to dispel these thoughts, only to realize that this very attempt to clear his mind was itself a distraction.
As dawn approached, Qin Sang had still not reached the state of mental stillness and inner tranquility described in the scripture. With the need to go down the mountain for medical outreach the next day, he had no choice but to stop for now.
During the day, he went down the mountain to provide medical aid, and at night, he cultivated. He practiced martial arts morning and evening. Qin Sang's days were monotonous yet fulfilling.
At this point, he understood that whether the Netherworld Scripture was a martial arts manual or a method for immortality, it was not something easily mastered. He needed a great deal of patience.
After another day of medical outreach, Qin Sang was immersed in studying the Netherworld Scripture when Ming Yue hurriedly arrived, carrying two bowls of congee, out of breath.
"Senior Brother, Master said the herbs at the temple are running low. He plans to go up the mountain to gather more tomorrow. He wants you to pack and go with him."
Qin Sang looked up, gazing at the distant mountains. The snow had stopped for seven days. Today was clear and sunny, so the snow on the mountain should have melted by now.
Given the heavy usage of herbs for making medicinal soups for the refugees, it was no surprise that more were needed.
With no snow on the mountain, there might still be ice on the path. Qin Sang was also concerned about the old Daoist going up alone, so he agreed without hesitation and went back to pack after finishing the congee.
Besides the ebony sword and a few other items, he had few possessions. Ming Yue prepared the tools and provisions for gathering herbs. Qin Sang simply packed a bundle of warm clothing and a pair of thick cotton shoes—his entire luggage.
The next day, before dawn, Qin Sang set out with the old Daoist.
Cuiming Mountain was manageable with a path already worn by people. Once they descended Cuiming Mountain and ventured further, the terrain became a wilderness. They had to follow animal trails, navigating through tall, overgrown grass. Even in broad daylight, Qin Sang could barely tell where they were going, relying on the old Daoist to lead the way.
They climbed from the valley to halfway up the mountain, then followed a narrow, winding path along the cliff, descending and climbing again, until they reached the foot of the legendary Huanghuang Mountain by noon.
The rugged journey had caused Qin Sang to slip several times, making him feel uneasy, while the old Daoist remained as steady as a mountain. Qin Sang couldn’t help but wonder who was truly the young one here.
With a tight schedule and a need to return to the temple by the next evening, they immediately began gathering herbs once they reached Huanghuang Mountain.
Hearing strange roars occasionally coming from the forest, Qin Sang felt uneasy and mused to himself that he might end up meeting his end in a tiger’s jaws instead of finding immortals. He softly asked the old Daoist, "Daoist Master, aren’t you afraid of tigers and wolves coming into such deep mountains to gather herbs?"
"I have encountered mountain wolves before, but I have a Beast-Repelling Powder passed down by my master, which is somewhat effective."
The old Daoist casually used a herb-digging tool to clear the overgrown grass. "The herbs outside have long been harvested, so we must go deeper into the mountains. You have your martial skills, so what is there to fear?"
Qin Sang, holding a staff, felt a bit apprehensive himself. "Daoist Master, please don’t make fun of me. My skills are quite superficial and not impressive."
The old Daoist laughed. "I noticed Ming Yue’s fist art seemed incomplete. Is it not the full version?"
"You have a keen eye."
Qin Sang responded, "This Tiger Subduing Long Fist was taught to me by a brother who saved me. He only had time to teach me three forms. However, this martial art is quite common. I plan to seek further instruction from the escort agency in the city soon to complete my training."
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