kvmb Chapter 508
Chapter 508
Li Yanran's hand, gripping the medicine spatula, trembled slightly. Her voice, like a copper bell, pierced through the rain: "If you have any doubts, you are welcome to come to the pharmacy to check the prescriptions..." She was met only with a chorus of sneers and hurried departures. Aunt Wang, who sold tofu, even slammed the freshly weighed herbs onto the counter: "My Tiger is only six years old! What are you up to!"
As night fell, the rain intensified. Under the dim light of the oil lamp, Li Yanran repeatedly studied medical records, trying to find flaws in the rumors. The aroma of medicine mingled with the damp, musty smell. On the table lay the medicine packets returned by the people during the day, each packet bearing a note of insults. The words "quack doctor" and "poisonous woman" stung her eyes, but when she turned to the page recording the proportions of perilla and plantain seeds, her fingertips suddenly stopped—the dosages of those herbs were clearly the optimal doses verified through dozens of clinical trials.
Just then, the door knocker rang softly. Li Yanran cautiously reached for the silver needle at her waist, only to see an elderly man with white hair and a youthful face standing in the rain. His blue raincoat was covered in water droplets, and a faded red silk ribbon wrapped around his bamboo cane. "Miss Li, there's no need to be nervous," the old man said slowly as he entered, his voice as mellow as fine wine. "I've traveled the world and heard some interesting tales."
The candlelight cast flickering shadows on the old man's face. He pulled a half-roll of yellowed parchment from his sleeve, on which was drawn the datura flower, unique to the Western Regions: "Three days ago, someone bought this flower at a high price on the black market in the west of the city. This flower is incompatible with the perilla you use; if someone mixes its juice into the medicine..."
Li Yanran abruptly stood up, her teacup overturning, the brown tea flowing like blood across the medical table. She finally understood why the spoiled medicinal herbs had developed strange purple mold spots—it wasn't natural mold growth at all, but deliberate poisoning!
"What are the conditions?" Li Yanran stared into the old man's wrinkled eyes, the candlelight reflecting a clear light in them.
The old man chuckled softly, tapping his bamboo cane on the ground. "I've heard of your extensive knowledge, young lady. Have you ever heard of the *Qing Nang Xu Lu*?" Seeing her puzzled expression, the old man slowly unfurled an ancient scroll. Atop a misty, celestial mountain, a vermilion plaque was faintly visible: "This book is said to have been written by the medical sage Zhang Zhongjing, recording methods to neutralize all poisons and bring the dead back to life. If you could find this book..."
A clap of thunder boomed outside the window, illuminating Li Yanran's tightly pursed lips. She recalled the pale face of the child on the sickbed, and her grandfather's dying words as he held her hand: "A doctor's heart is benevolent." Her fingertips traced the faint characters in the painting, and she suddenly remembered Dongfang Wan'er's cold smile as she stared at the copy of "Treatise on Febrile Diseases" on the wall when she passed by the pharmacy the other day.
“I agree.” Li Yanran fastened the silver lock on the medicine box, inside which were neatly arranged silver needles, a medicine grinder, and half a bottle of medicine that had not yet been delivered. “But the senior needs my help to stabilize the hearts of the people first.”
The old man clapped his hands and laughed, the red silk on his bamboo cane fluttering in the wind. The rain gradually subsided, and the first rays of dawn pierced through the clouds, illuminating Li Yanran's resolute departing figure. Amidst the clinking of her medicine chest, she silently recited the faint clues in the ancient painting, embarking on the long journey to find the medical book. Behind her, however, the undercurrents of the capital city continued to surge, and Dongfang Wan'er toyed with a blood-stained handkerchief, a sinister smile curling at the corner of her lips.
As dusk settled and leaden clouds hung low, Li Yanran clutched the yellowed ancient painting, trudging along the muddy mountain path, her steps slipping and uneven. Her coarse cloth clothes were already soaked through by the rain, and the medicine box she carried on her shoulder was covered in mud, yet her almond-shaped eyes still shone with unwavering determination. The winding ink lines on the ancient painting were now gradually merging with the mountain range before her—this deep, secluded valley was the destination she had been searching for.
The moment she stepped into the valley, a damp, pungent stench assaulted her nostrils. A thin, gray veil of miasma flowed slowly through the forest, each breath carrying the acrid smell of decaying leaves. Rustling sounds came from among the vines. Li Yanran gripped the silver needles at her waist warily. Suddenly, she saw the grass sway, and several colorful venomous snakes flicked their tongues as they slithered past. Holding her breath, she moved slowly along the mountainside, but suddenly something wrapped around her ankle. Looking down, she saw a thick, man-eating vine, as thick as a wrist, slowly tightening its grip. She swiftly drew her dagger and cut the vine, cold sweat beading on her forehead.
Just as she was still reeling from the shock, a buzzing sound grew louder as it approached. Looking up, she saw a dark swarm of poisonous bees looming overhead like a storm cloud, each bee's tail gleaming with an eerie purple light. Li Yanran's pupils constricted instantly. She immediately gripped a silver needle between her fingers, her wrist moving with the speed of a butterfly's wings. With a flash of silver light, the bees fell to the ground. But the swarm was simply too large; a few escaped and broke through her defenses, stinging her arm fiercely. The excruciating pain burned like fire. Gritting her teeth, she pulled out some antidote herbs from her medicine box, chewed them, and applied them to her wound, forcing herself to continue forward.
As dusk deepened, just when Li Yanran thought the trail had gone cold, the eaves of a dilapidated Taoist temple pierced the mist. The three characters "Xuanqing Temple" on the faded vermilion plaque were now blurred. Pushing open the creaking wooden door, cobwebs formed a curtain, and dust danced in the beams of light. Inside, the shrine was overturned, and before a broken statue of Laozi, an old Taoist priest with white hair huddled, muttering to himself, "The medicinal ingredient... the medicinal ingredient... blood, only blood can bring life..."
Li Yanran's heart tightened, and she quickly stepped forward: "Daoist, have you ever seen the 'Qing Nang Xu Lu'?" The old Daoist suddenly sprang up, his withered fingers gripping her wrist tightly: "Medicinal ingredient! A living medicinal ingredient!" She endured the pain, but her gaze was drawn to the jade pendant at the old Daoist's waist—the patterns on the mutton fat jade were exactly the same as the markings in the corner of the ancient painting.
“Daoist Master, may I exchange these herbs for your jade pendant?” Li Yanran hurriedly pulled out her treasured thousand-year-old ginseng. The old Daoist’s cloudy eyes darted around, then he suddenly released his grip, laughing maniacally as he grabbed the herbs and stuffed them into his mouth. Taking advantage of his distraction, Li Yanran swiftly tore off the jade pendant. In that instant, the old Daoist’s eyes cleared somewhat, and he pointed tremblingly to the back hall: “Go…to the…cave in the back mountain…”
Passing through a long, cobweb-covered corridor, Li Yanran found the hidden entrance to a cave in the overgrown backyard. The moment she stepped inside, the stone slab beneath her feet suddenly sank, and countless hidden arrows hurtled through the air. She rolled sideways, her silver needles precisely deflecting several, but she was still grazed on the shoulder. Blood seeped out, staining her pristine white robes crimson. The cave was dimly lit, the damp stone walls covered in moss, and the dripping sound was exceptionally clear in the silence.
The deeper they went, the faint phosphorescent light on the stone walls illuminated the ancient runes on the cave walls. Li Yanran examined them carefully, her heart suddenly racing—these records were exactly the same as the scattered fragments in the lost "Qing Nang Xu Lu"! After turning the last bend, a strange light rose from the bottom of the cave, illuminating the ancient book that was faintly glowing on the stone platform.
Just as she trembled as she reached out to touch the medical book, the entire cave shook violently. Rocks rained down, the roar deafening. Li Yanran clutched the ancient book tightly to her chest and stumbled out. A massive boulder was crashing down at the cave entrance; at the last moment, she leaped out, and the entire cave collapsed with a deafening roar.
Slumped in the dust, Li Yanran looked at the intact copy of "The Sequel to the Qingnang Records" in her arms and finally breathed a sigh of relief. Little did she know that a thousand miles away in a pavilion, Dongfang Wan'er was toying with a jade thumb ring, a cold smile playing on her lips: "Send someone to see her alive or dead." Outside the window, the mournful cry of a night owl pierced the sky, foreshadowing that this struggle had only just begun.