PFC Chapter 501
Chapter 501
A light spring drizzle pattered against the green tiles of the medicine hut, and raindrops dripping from the eaves splashed tiny droplets on the bluestone. A faint medicinal fragrance filled the hut; the oppressive atmosphere once caused by illness had long since dissipated, replaced by the joyful laughter of the recovered patients. Ye Jiuchen leaned against the veranda, watching several patients chatting and laughing in the courtyard, a smile unconsciously playing on his lips, yet a lingering gloom remained in his eyes.
Since saving everyone with the Ice Crystal Grass, Ye Jiuchen has been trapped in a deep predicament. His once effortless medical skills now feel unfamiliar and distant. His desk is piled high with medical books, and he often sits there for entire days, his gaze wandering across the yellowed pages. Those medical principles he once knew by heart now seem like incomprehensible gibberish. He holds silver needles in his fingers, wanting to administer acupuncture to the patients, but finds his hands unresponsive, unable even to grasp the most basic angle of insertion. Cold sweat streams down his forehead, soaking his clothes, and a wave of frustration overwhelms him.
His master stood behind him, watching silently. The old man's eyes were filled with heartache and understanding. He slowly stepped forward, his calloused hand gently patting Ye Jiuchen's shoulder: "Jiuchen, don't be discouraged. You sacrificed your own future to save so many lives; this is a great act of kindness. The way of a healer is not about skill, but about compassion and virtue." Ye Jiuchen looked up at his master's kind face, his throat tightening, unable to speak.
Just as Ye Jiuchen was sinking deeper into the mire of self-doubt, on a misty morning, there was a gentle knock on the wooden door of the medicine hut. Ye Jiuchen opened the door and saw an old man with white hair and a youthful face standing outside. The old man wore a plain robe, with a string of ancient medicine bells hanging from his waist, and his features exuded an extraordinary and refined air.
"Young friend, do you still remember the matter of the Ice Crystal Grass?" The old man spoke with a smile, his voice as gentle as a spring breeze. Ye Jiuchen was startled upon hearing this and took a half step back warily: "Who is this senior?" The old man stroked his beard gently, his eyes full of admiration: "I am a friend of the guardian spirit of the Ice Crystal Grass. Your righteous act in the Ice Abyss that day deeply moved me. I have come here today to bestow upon you a treasure."
As he spoke, the old man took out an ancient medical book from his sleeve. The cover was already yellowed and the edges were worn, but the four powerful characters on the cover, "Jishi Xuanzhang" (The Profound Chapter for Saving the World), exuded a mysterious aura. Ye Jiuchen took the medical book, opened it to the first page, and saw that it recorded many long-lost medical techniques and various wonderful prescriptions. Every word seemed to contain infinite wisdom.
"This book can make up for what you have lost, but you will have to figure out its secrets yourself," the old man said earnestly. "Remember, a true healer must not only have superb medical skills, but also a compassionate heart." Ye Jiuchen wanted to say something more, but the old man had already turned and left, leaving only a faint sound of medicine bells that dissipated into the morning mist.
From then on, Ye Jiuchen seemed to have been reborn. He locked himself in the study of the medicine hut, studying the book "The Profound Chapter on Saving the World" day and night. He pondered every word and every picture in the book repeatedly, often forgetting to eat or sleep. When he encountered something he didn't understand, he humbly asked his master for guidance, and the two of them often discussed medical techniques all night long.
Spring passed and autumn came, time flew by. Many years later, many people came to the medicine shop seeking treatment. Among them were commoners suffering from intractable diseases, high-ranking officials, and even envoys from neighboring countries. Ye Jiuchen, dressed in white, held silver needles in hand, his expression calm and confident. He used the medical skills he learned from the "Treatise on Saving the World" and combined them with his own practical experience to cure one difficult and complicated disease after another.
His name spread throughout the land, making him a renowned physician. But no matter how illustrious his fame, Ye Jiuchen always remembered the night he traded his future for his life, his master's earnest teachings, and the medical book given to him by the mysterious old man. He still lived in that simple, ancient medicine hut, opening the door every morning to welcome those seeking medical help, continuing to uphold his ideal of healing the sick and protecting every life with his medical skills and compassionate heart.
Inside the medicine hut, the flickering candlelight cast the shadows of the master and his two apprentices onto the mottled walls. The master's withered fingers held a white porcelain bottle, the dark purple powder inside gleaming eerily in the candlelight, as if countless tiny eyes were peering from the shadows. The old man gently placed the bottle on the table, his fingertips unconsciously tracing its surface. His aged brows furrowed into a deep frown, and a suffocating silence filled the air.
“This powder is quite strange.” The master finally spoke, his voice hoarse as if sandpaper had been rubbing against a tile. “Judging from its color, it seems to contain the sediment of a thousand-year-old medicinal poison; yet its aroma is mixed with a fishy sweetness that does not belong to the mortal world.” He suddenly coughed violently, his wrinkled hand pressed against his chest, and a trace of panic flashed in his cloudy eyes. “It is definitely not something recorded in ordinary medical books, but rather seems like… like the evil medicine made from the blood essence of living people in legends.”
Ye Jiuchen and Dongfang Wan'er exchanged a horrified glance. Dongfang Wan'er's nails dug deeply into her palms, her fingertips, stained with medicine, trembling slightly: "Master, what exactly does that black-robed man want to do with this?"