After three consecutive days of testing medicines, Lin Zhengdu was so exhausted that she fell asleep sitting beside the patient’s bed.
Half-conscious, her head slipped—and she jolted awake. The moment she opened her eyes, she met the patient’s half-lidded gaze.
He had woken up at some unknown time.
Lin Zhengdu instantly became alert. She placed her fingers on his wrist to check his pulse.
The poison wasn’t gone, but it was no longer as severe as when he had first been brought in.
She raised two fingers in front of his dull eyes. “How many is this?”
His unfocused gaze slowly gathered on her fingers—but after barely two or three seconds, it drifted past them, locking directly onto her face instead.
After a long pause, he spoke weakly but with certainty:
“You’re not human.”
Lin Zhengdu: “…”
She reached out and pinched his neck. The weakened patient promptly fainted again.
“Mmm… looks like the initial treatment needs another two days,” she muttered to herself. “He’s still hallucinating—definitely not ready for a blood exchange.”
She packed away the medicine bowls, syringes, and other scattered items into her satchel, then left the side chamber and returned to her spacious apothecary.
After days of frequent explosions while concocting medicine, the already messy room now looked like a complete disaster.
Just walking to her desk, she kicked aside several broken clay jars.
There was a chair, but she didn’t bother sitting. Standing at the desk, she spread out a prescription, crossed out a few ingredients with her brush, then drafted a new list of materials. Once finished, she tied it to a carrier pigeon’s leg.
The pigeon was ordinary—but specially trained to pass freely through the sect’s formation arrays, efficiently delivering messages between disciples.
However, it could not leave the Northern Mountain Medicine Sect.
Her list would first reach her master, Immortal Peilan, at the Lotus Pavilion, and from there be passed to the Sword Sect.
Watching the pigeon disappear into the layered forest, Lin Zhengdu twirled her brush, deep in thought.
The patient remained unconscious, but his condition had clearly improved.
He could now swallow medicine on his own—no longer requiring her to inject it directly into his meridians like on the first day.
After feeding Xie Guanqi two large bowls of medicine, Lin Zhengdu wiped the moisture from his lips with a handkerchief and sat nearby, observing his reaction.
He regained awareness again late at night.
Moonlight hung high outside; lamplight flickered within.
The warm glow gave his pale face a hint of color. His eyes were half-open, still clouded with confusion—just like before. His gaze drifted aimlessly for a moment before locking onto Lin Zhengdu’s face.
She raised three fingers this time. “How many?”
He looked blank, clearly not understanding her question. He didn’t even glance at her hand.
He remembered seeing her before—but the memory was so hazy that he couldn’t tell whether he was reliving a dying hallucination… or had truly been saved by a “fairy.”
After hesitating, he whispered weakly, “You’re… not human, right?”
Lin Zhengdu pinched his neck again.
He passed out.
“…That’s strange,” she frowned. “It’s almost the fourth day. Why is he still stuck in hallucinations?”
She checked his condition again—no signs of deterioration.
After some thought, she decided to increase the dosage the next day.
At noon the following day, the apothecary was filled with a bizarre mixture of smells.
Rusty medicinal fumes mingled with the aroma of mutton flatbread, the lingering scent of past explosions, and the earthy fragrance of stored herbs.
The combined smell was so overwhelming that Lu Yuanyuan stepped inside, only to immediately jump back out, sprinting several steps away before burying his face in a patch of mint and inhaling deeply.
He was Lin Zhengdu’s junior brother—not human, but a cat demon. Though over sixty years old, by demon standards he was still just a child.
Thus, his usual duties consisted of cultivation, lessons, and running errands for his seniors.
Lin Zhengdu stepped out, chewing on a flatbread, completely unaffected by the “toxic gas” inside.
“Senior Sister, how can you still eat? It reeks in there!” Lu Yuanyuan complained after recovering.
“Apothecaries always smell like this,” she replied casually. “Want some? It’s mutton.”
He shook his head, then tapped his storage pouch. Instantly, piles of medicinal materials spilled onto the ground.
“These are from the Sword Sect.”
There were herbs—and also preserved spirit beast parts sealed in ice. Thanks to the preservation, there was no blood smell—only a faint chill.
Curious, Lu Yuanyuan asked, “Senior Sister, do you really need a whole skeleton of Qiongqi to cure plague wraith poison?”
“No idea if it’ll help,” Lin Zhengdu said. “But I’d like to collect it.”
She finished her food in a few bites and jumped down to inspect the materials. She quickly noticed that not only were they fresh, but there was twice as much as she had requested.
“Did they send any message?”
“No idea,” Lu Yuanyuan shrugged. “Master gave them to me directly.”
After delivering everything, he left.
Lin Zhengdu rolled up her sleeves, tied up her hair with a twig, and began sorting the materials.
When the ice around the Qiongqi skeleton melted, a fierce aura surged forth. The stark white bones still bore traces of fresh blood.
Without gloves, she ran her hands over the bones, feeling the lingering pressure.
“They killed it just now? The Sword Sect is efficient.”
Her enthusiasm for saving Xie Guanqi surged to an all-time high.
By evening, after taking the fifth dose, Xie Guanqi woke again.
This time, his mind was much clearer. He could feel the warmth of the setting sun on his face.
Seeing his eyes open, Lin Zhengdu raised five fingers. “How many?”
After thinking, he answered, “One hand.”
She held up a brush. “What’s this?”
“A brush.”
“What’s your name? How old are you?”
Instead of answering, he asked, “Who are you?”
His gaze fixed steadily on her. With clearer awareness, he could tell she was not some “fairy.”
Lin Zhengdu nodded, jotting notes. “Basic cognition intact. No memory loss. I’m Lin Zhengdu, a disciple of the Medicine Sect—your physician. You remember being poisoned, right?”
“…I remember.”
She closed her notebook and smiled. “Don’t worry. I’ll do my best to treat you.”
Under the medicine’s influence, he soon slipped back into unconsciousness.
Lin Zhengdu stayed by his side all night, watching closely.
At dawn, his breathing was steady. His complexion had improved, and the black veins on his neck had vanished.
But she knew—it was only temporary.
The poison was suppressed, not eliminated. Once the medicine wore off, it would return even more violently.
It was time for the next phase.
At noon, under the brightest sunlight, Lin Zhengdu bathed, changed clothes, and offered prayers to the sect’s founder for a smooth treatment.
She then carried her tools and prepared medicines into the chamber, sealed the doors and windows, and activated a barrier formation.
Darkness fell.
Even the sounds of birds and insects vanished. The room felt isolated—forgotten.
She lit a candle.
The faint flame cast her face in blurred shadows, like paint dissolved in water.
Xie Guanqi awoke again, momentarily thinking he had entered the underworld.
Their eyes met.
She smiled gently. “Don’t be afraid. This is part of the treatment. If you’re nervous, we can chat.”
As she spoke, she rolled up his sleeve, exposing his arm. Her fingers, cool against his warmer skin, brushed lightly—causing his muscles to twitch.
He wasn’t afraid.
And he was willing to talk.
“What are the characters of your name?” he asked.
“Lin—like twin trees. Zhengdu—contending to cross, contending to cross, startling a flock of gulls into flight.”
He frowned. “What does that mean?”
She glanced up from searching for a vein, her gaze shifting to his face. In the dim light, both of them seemed blurred, unreal.
Then she smiled softly. “A line of poetry.”
“The ‘zheng’ of struggle. The ‘du’ of crossing.”
He froze slightly—so focused that he didn’t even notice the needle entering his vein.
Only when the cold medicine flowed into his arm did he come back to himself.
But his expression didn’t change. Quietly, he repeated her name in his mind.
Zhengdu… Zhengdu… startling a flock of gulls into flight…
Soon, his clarity faded.
The drug had taken effect.
Lin Zhengdu had discovered that combining cuckoo bird tongues with Yingying flowers created a sedative—relaxing the body and muddling the mind, more effective than traditional knockout drugs, even for cultivators.
She had proposed it as a painkiller or end-of-life aid—but the elders had rejected it as too “sinister.”
After finishing the injection, she snapped off the needle and tossed it aside.
She squeezed his arm. “Hmm… nice texture. Makes me want beef meatballs.”
“I want bamboo shoot buns,” Xie Guanqi replied slowly.
She observed him—his beautiful peach-blossom eyes unfocused. He had entered the rambling stage.
“Do you like those?”
He thought seriously. “Also chive pancakes, jujube yam cakes, sliced perch, locust leaf noodles, stuffed crab oranges…”
She blinked. “Your Sword Sect has great food?”
“The cafeteria is terrible,” he said earnestly. “I ate those outside. The world beyond is much more fun.”
Ah—so that was it.
Then he continued rambling:
“Doctor, why are you sitting so far away?”
“I’m not—”
“Doctor, you’re very pretty. Like my dog’s head.”
“…?”
He suddenly sat up, grabbing her wrist. “When you smile, it’s like sword light. I like it.”
“Doctor, what’s your name? How old are you? Want to be my junior sister?”
“Which hand do you use for a sword? I use both…”
…
Lin Zhengdu laughed helplessly, pushing him back down.
He kept talking, cheeks flushed.
“Doctor, do you like dogs? I can bark—woof woof—”
She rolled up her sleeve and placed her wrist beside his.
With a swift motion, she cut both their wrists.
Blood welled out—then, under her control, intertwined like a red thread connecting them.
He didn’t even notice.
Still rambling about sword manuals and forging techniques.
Lin Zhengdu listened—and couldn’t help but smile.
He probably doesn’t have a junior sister, she thought. That’s why he keeps asking.
After exchanging blood, she healed their wounds and disabled the barrier.
He kept talking, so she knocked him out again.
The suppressed poison flowed through her own body via the exchanged blood.
Lying on a recliner, she calmly felt it spread.
Moments later, she turned and vomited black blood onto the floor.
“…Painful,” she muttered. “Let’s try version one.”
Five days passed in a blur of concocting, testing, and refining.
Just before the poison could kill her—
She killed it first.
During those five days, she also continued treating Xie Guanqi.
Sometimes the poison flared; sometimes her own toxic blood caused violent reactions.
Whenever his condition worsened, she simply pinched his nose and forced medicine down his throat.
It tasted awful—even unconscious, he frowned like a bitter melon.
Finally, she fed him half a bowl of her own blood.
The black veins vanished instantly.
Her blood—mixed with specific medicines—had become a cure.
This was the second stage of treatment.
And the essential catalyst—
Was Lin Zhengdu herself.