He had a few sparse whiskers and wore a spotless, dark cyan long gown of fine cloth. Tushan’s gaze swept across the courtyard before finally landing on Chen Yue.
He slowly walked closer, stopping three paces in front of Chen Yue. He didn’t look at Chen Yue’s face or ask why he was in such a sorry state. He simply lowered his eyes slightly, his gaze resting for a moment on the three roosters.
Then, the corner of his mouth twitched upward, an almost imperceptible movement.
Tushan didn’t say a single word. He turned, clasped his hands behind his back, and retraced his steps down the corridor at the same unhurried pace.
Only after Tushan’s figure completely disappeared around the bend in the corridor did the oppressive atmosphere in the courtyard slowly dissipate. The apprentices began to move again, but their voices were kept much lower.
Only then did Liu Jing dare to approach. He tugged on Chen Yue’s sleeve, his voice dropping to a low whisper. "Chen Yue, you... yesterday, right after you left the pharmacy, Liu followed you out."
Chen Yue stiffened slightly.
Liu was Tushan’s most obedient apprentice. Tasks like running errands and gathering information usually fell to him.
Liu Jing shot a quick glance toward the corridor and continued, "He was gone for nearly two hours before he came back. He went straight to Steward Tu’s room and stayed for quite a while..."
Chen Yue took a slow breath, the frigid air filling his lungs. He raised a hand and patted Liu Jing’s shoulder, managing to force a smile.
"I understand. Thanks, Liu Jing."
’If I hadn’t left the city yesterday, hadn’t gone to that godsforsaken countryside to collect chickens, what would be waiting for me today wouldn’t be just a silent glance from Tushan. It would be a much harsher punishment, maybe even getting kicked out for good.’
Chen Yue picked up the chicken coop and walked to the small enclosure in the corner of the rear courtyard, which was designated for storing live animals. He placed the three roosters inside.
Then, as usual, he went to the water vat, drew a basin of cold water, and hastily washed his face and hands. He returned to his room and changed into his own worn, coarse-cloth clothes.
The day’s labor began.
Grinding herbs, slicing herbs, sun-drying herbs, sorting, and cleaning... every task was a tedious, mentally draining, physical chore.
Waves of cold, stabbing pain radiated from the black spot on his chest, and bouts of dizziness and aching weakness washed over his limbs.
Chen Yue gritted his teeth, forcing himself to concentrate. His hands never stopped moving. Sweat beaded on his forehead, mingling with his lingering high fever and causing his vision to periodically blur.
Time crawled on, marked by mechanical repetition and physical torment. In the afternoon, when the sun was at its fiercest, he finally got a moment of respite.
Chen Yue dragged his body, which felt like it was about to fall apart, back to the apprentice quarters in the corner of the rear courtyard, a room crammed with seven or eight communal sleeping mats.
He practically collapsed onto his sleeping mat, not even bothering to take off his shoes. His eyelids felt as heavy as lead, and his consciousness quickly sank into darkness.
His sleep was fitful, filled with visions of the flickering firelight in the ruined temple, the herb gatherer’s eerie smile, a severed head rolling on the ground, bloodcurdling screams, gushing chicken blood, and the black spot squirming on his chest...
These fragmented images twisted and churned together. Chen Yue slept deeply, yet it felt as if he were struggling in an endless nightmare.
He didn’t know how much time had passed before a bout of shaking pulled him from the profound darkness.
"Chen Yue? Chen Yue! Wake up! You’re going to miss dinner!"
It was Liu Jing’s voice, tinged with anxiety.
Chen Yue’s eyes snapped open, and for a moment, he was disoriented. Dim light filtered through the narrow window. It was already evening. He took a few sharp breaths and raised a hand to feel his forehead.
It was cool to the touch. Though he was still clammy, the searing heat from before had mostly subsided.
Chen Yue slowly exhaled, his taut nerves relaxing just a fraction. ’The fever’s broken,’ he thought. ’At least that’s one less thing to worry about for now.’
He pushed his aching body into a sitting position and nodded at the concerned Liu Jing, signaling that he was all right. He could hear a faint commotion outside the apprentices’ room; dinner really was almost over.
Dinner was brown rice porridge with chunks of pickled vegetables, washed down with cold water drawn from the well in the rear courtyard. He wolfed it down. The food brought a bit of warmth to his belly, but under the dim, yellow glow of the oil lamp, Chen Yue’s face remained terrifyingly pale.
Liu Jing cupped his bowl and sidled up to Chen Yue. In between spoonfuls of porridge, he shot a quick glance at him, his brow furrowed. He spoke in a low voice.
"Chen Yue, you look awful... Are you sure you’re okay? Why don’t you ask Doctor Qin in the main hall to take a look at you tomorrow? Just say you’re overworked. Even a couple of cheap prescriptions to sweat it out would be better than nothing."
Chen Yue shook his head, swallowing his last mouthful of porridge.
’I know this paleness and weakness are mostly the black spot’s doing,’ he thought. ’An ordinary doctor probably won’t find the root cause, and I might just draw unwanted attention to myself.’
The thought of the black spot sparked an idea. His gaze swept across the dining hall; the other apprentices were either focused on their food or laughing quietly in small groups. No one was paying attention to their corner.
He leaned forward slightly, lowering his voice so only the two of them could hear.
"Liu Jing, I’ve heard you guys talk about ghosts before... If someone really ran into one, besides things like Child’s Urine or Chicken Blood and Dog Blood, are there any other remedies?"
Liu Jing clearly hadn’t expected the question. He froze for a second, instinctively glancing left and right before lowering his own voice, his tone uncertain.
"Those are all just old folk remedies passed down from our elders. Who knows if they actually work... Oh, but I think I’ve also heard that Martial Arts can help."
"Martial Arts?"
"Yeah,"
Liu Jing nodded, trying to recall. "I’ve heard people from the street-side dojos bragging about it. They say that with abundant Qi Blood, you become impervious to all evil. Martial artists have strong yang energy, so common spirits don’t dare approach them. But that’s probably only for true masters, right? For people like us..."
He trailed off, pursing his lips.
Pharmacy apprentices like them could barely eat their fill; where would they find the spare energy to practice Martial Arts? Even the Iron Mountain Fist taught at the pharmacy was something few of them ever truly grasped.
A glint appeared in Chen Yue’s eyes, a flicker of contemplation in their depths. Then, as if it were an afterthought, he changed the subject to the medicinal herbs that needed to be sun-dried the next day.
Liu Jing, none the wiser, went along with the change in topic.
The night grew deeper.
The clamor in the pharmacy’s rear courtyard gradually died down. Worn out from a full day of labor, the apprentices dragged their exhausted bodies back to the communal barracks and collapsed into sleep.
A chorus of snores and grinding teeth soon rose and fell.
But Chen Yue did not sleep.
Though his afternoon nap had been plagued by nightmares, it had restored some of his strength. Now, however, he felt a feverish, unnatural surge of energy.
’This isn’t a sign of being well-rested,’ he knew. ’It’s my body’s self-preservation kicking in, burning through my mental reserves under the threat of this crisis. It won’t last long.’
Chen Yue rose quietly and stepped out of the room.
The moonlight was cold, spilling across the ground like mercury. A night breeze whistled through the narrow alley, carrying the faint sound of the distant watchman’s clapper.
Chen Yue walked to a relatively open space in the center of the courtyard, removed his outer robe, and stood in his thin undergarments.
He took a slow breath and assumed a ready stance. His movements were slow and awkward as he began to practice a Fist Technique.
Iron Mountain Fist.
This was a rudimentary Fist Technique that Huichun Hall taught its apprentices. The pharmacy staff dealt with medicinal herbs year-round and needed to be in good physical shape.
But while this Fist Technique seemed simple, mastering it was incredibly difficult. It required years of bitter training to achieve even minor results.
Most apprentices, including Chen Yue’s predecessor, had only learned the superficial form, using it for little more than stretching their limbs.
Now, Chen Yue’s movements were absurdly slow. Each and every move was like an old man shuffling his feet, as if he were struggling to push his limbs through thick air.
Lifting a hand, raising a foot, turning, clenching a fist... He performed every minute motion with intense concentration, striving to recall the vague impressions he had from watching the other apprentices practice, along with the fragmented pointers from his predecessor’s memory.
His muscles trembled faintly, not from exertion, but because his weakened body could barely support the movements.
By the time he finished one slow-motion set, Chen Yue was already panting for breath. A fine sheen of cold sweat coated his forehead. The faint color that had returned to his cheeks during his nap drained away again, leaving him as pale as a sheet of paper.
He braced himself against a nearby herb-drying rack, taking a long moment to catch his breath.
But Chen Yue didn’t stop.
Gritting his teeth, he settled into the stance once more and began a second set.
This time was even more difficult than the last. His form broke down, his breathing grew ragged, and his chest felt like it was being crushed by a boulder. Every exhale was a searing pain.
He barely managed to finish the set before his legs gave out. He nearly collapsed, only staying on his feet by grabbing the drying rack for support. His undergarments were already soaked with sweat, clinging to his skin.
Chen Yue knew he had reached his limit. ’If I keep going,’ he thought, ’I’ll probably end up joining my predecessor in death.’
Instead of going back to his room immediately, Chen Yue used the cool moonlight to guide him to the small medicinal garden at the base of the courtyard wall.
A few common, hardy herbs were planted there for the apprentices to practice identification on. In the moonlight, the herbs looked different than they did during the day; the outlines of their leaves were indistinct, and their scents were much fainter.
He squatted down, fighting back the ache in his body and the dizziness in his head, and carefully began to identify the plants.
This was easier than practicing the fist form, but not by much. In his extreme exhaustion, concentrating had become exceptionally difficult.
As the night wore on, Chen Yue finally couldn’t take it anymore. He staggered to his feet and slowly shuffled back to the stuffy, odor-filled room.
The pungent reek of sweat, stinky feet, musty old straw mats, and an assortment of other unidentifiable body odors washed over him.
When he had first transmigrated here, the smell would have been enough to make him pass out. But after three months, his nose had gone numb. Or rather, his body had simply grown accustomed to the environment.
Chen Yue fumbled his way back to his sleeping mat and lay down, still fully clothed. Physical exhaustion washed over him like a tide, gradually swallowing the last of his feverish energy.
His eyelids drooped shut. In the last moment before his consciousness faded to black, he thought he felt the black spot on his chest give a faint throb beneath his clothes.
...
"Chen Yue! Get up! You’ll get the paddle if you’re late!"
"The water vat is empty! Who’s going to fetch more?"
A cacophony of voices, clattering tools, urgent shouts, and curses struck Chen Yue like a blunt hammer, jolting him from a deep sleep. His eyes flew open. The sky was already growing light, and the room was a chaotic blur of moving figures.
Almost by instinct, Chen Yue focused his mind, and familiar ripples appeared in the air before him.
The translucent panel quietly materialized.
[Daily Settlement]
[Diligently ground, cut, and identified herbs. Recognize Medicinal Herbs experience +20]
[Diligently practiced Iron Mountain Fist. Iron Mountain Fist experience +10]
[Name: Chen Yue]
[Skill: Recognize Medicinal Herbs (Entry Level 53/100)]
[Skill: Iron Mountain Fist (Entry Level 10/100)]
[Source Point: 1]
Chen Yue’s gaze was riveted to the panel, his heart suddenly starting to pound.