Shisan Lang was at the age of growing tall, and after a full meal, drowsiness struck and his eyelids drooped. He carried his bedding around looking for a place to sleep. With insufficient rooms at the inn, the two martial brothers arranged their bedding on a pile of straw in the woodshed. With walls on all sides and a roof that didn’t leak, these conditions were much better than sleeping outdoors. The little monk quickly fell into dreams.

Having eaten his fill of soup noodles, Shisan Lang got up to relieve himself in the middle of the night. Cold white moonlight streamed through the window lattice into the woodshed, revealing a figure sitting in meditation on the woodpile. Perhaps because his life’s flame was growing ever dimmer, even his shadow was extremely faint.

Shisan Lang rubbed his eyes in disbelief. Wei Xun sat with a thin blanket wrapped around his waist, hands forming mudras, eyes closed in the True Martial sitting position practicing his skills. Knowing his life was short yet still working through the night – the position of Remnant Sun Academy’s senior disciple truly wasn’t one ordinary people could occupy.

Shisan Lang couldn’t help but advise: “Senior Brother, if you’re uncomfortable, just lie down and rest. Stop staying up all night.”

“Don’t worry about me! Before reaching Youzhou, I must practice to become the world’s number one.”

Wei Xun kept his eyes closed, casually responding to his junior while feeling his nose beginning to bleed again. He picked up the soaked scarf beside him to wipe it away.

That bowl of ginseng soup contained who knows what, leaving him in a wretched state, restless as if sitting on needles, so agitated that his nosebleed wouldn’t stop. Fortunately he had escaped quickly then, not letting her see his unseemly reaction.

Left with no choice, he finally used the method for dealing with poisons like henbane and jimsonweed – concentrating his internal energy to forcibly suppress the medicine’s effects within his qi sea. This was a foolish method that treated symptoms but not causes. As for how to dissolve this volatile “gunpowder” later, he could only leave it to fate. Perhaps he wouldn’t live long enough to need to deal with this problem.

After Wei Xun removed his scarf, Shisan Lang clearly saw the purple-blue veins extending upward from his collar, spreading like a spider web to his neck. Since leaving Luoyang, he had pretended nothing was wrong while his condition actually progressed extremely rapidly, forcing him to wear a scarf from morning to night to conceal his body’s changes.

Shisan Lang wondered privately if his senior brother could last to their destination in this state. He understood Wei Xun’s urgency, yet couldn’t tell anyone or help in any way, leaving him deeply frustrated.

After taking care of his urgent needs, Shisan Lang returned to continue sleeping. When he woke the second time, dawn was approaching. Wei Xun had been tormented by the ginseng soup all night, only resting briefly against the wall. His nosebleed had finally stopped, and his body had grown cold through and through. He quietly washed the blood from his scarf and wrapped a different bundle cloth around his neck.

Seeing his extremely poor complexion, Shisan Lang tentatively suggested: “Since we’ve already reached Xiangzhou, shouldn’t we stop briefly and find your master-aunt to examine you again?”

Wei Xun recalled that person’s sharp, caustic attitude and shook his head: “She declared me hopeless years ago. Hearing the diagnosis again would be useless and not worth delaying time.”

Shisan Lang persuaded: “Even if it can’t be cured, getting some medicine to ease symptoms would be good. With you unable to eat or sleep like this, if… if… then only I would be left to lead the donkey.”

He couldn’t bear to speak what came after “if,” but both martial brothers understood that if Wei Xun collapsed partway, the responsibility of escorting Bao Zhu would fall entirely on this ungraduated little monk. Though stronger than Yang Xingjian, he would still be like a child carrying treasure through a busy marketplace – the future’s fortune unknown.

That day, everyone prepared their luggage and provisions as usual. Under Wei Xun’s repeated urgings, the group set out when dawn was just breaking, with white frost coating the road.

Seeing Bao Zhu again, Wei Xun couldn’t control his mind repeatedly savoring the intimate details from the previous night, so embarrassed he kept his head lowered without daring to look at her.

Bao Zhu was completely composed. She had expected Wei Xun to show some improvement after taking the Shangdang ginseng. But examining his features carefully in the morning light, the dark circles under his eyes had only deepened, his entire person gray and listless, with undisguisable exhaustion in his demeanor.

Bao Zhu immediately flew into a rage: “What’s going on? That damned swindler actually dared sell me fake goods?!”

Wei Xun sighed quietly, thinking it would be better if it were fake – eating a piece of dried radish wouldn’t cause such unspeakable torment.

“It’s real, just somewhat heating after consumption, so I didn’t sleep well.” His explanation left Bao Zhu half-convinced.

After traveling for a while, the sun rose high. Seeing the road ahead peaceful and calm, Bao Zhu pulled the reins and instructed Wei Xun: “Drink some water and go lie down in the ox cart for a while to catch up on sleep.”

Wei Xun was about to refuse when he saw her pull open her cloak and take out a water pouch from her bosom, extending it to him.

Ever since Qiu Ren’s perfunctory medical advice to “drink more hot water,” Bao Zhu had kept it in mind, urging him to drink warm water whenever possible. While traveling without conditions to stop and boil water, when weather turned cold, the water in the pouch became ice-cold. Bao Zhu would tuck the container against her chest to warm it with body heat, so that while not hot when consumed, it was at least warm.

This meticulous, thoughtful care left Wei Xun spellbound, unable to speak for a long time. If not for his utter exhaustion, he would probably be blushing with shyness. To continue with lies would be unworthy of her sincere, fiery devotion. Moreover, his head was spinning dizzily, barely able to remain upright.

He accepted the water pouch and took two sips, returned the reins to Bao Zhu, and stepped on the cart shaft to climb into the carriage. Yang Xingjian wanted to say something but swallowed his words seeing the princess’s expression. Yet within moments, Wei Xun hurriedly jumped out of the cart as if something inside had bitten him.

The brocade bedding in the ox cart belonged to Bao Zhu. Whenever camping outdoors or staying at inns with only communal beds, she would make do sleeping in the cart. Thus lifting the covers revealed her body’s scent – abundantly fragrant and warm. Having spent all night suppressing his longing feelings, how could Wei Xun dare provoke such thoughts again? He couldn’t linger even a moment.

After jumping from the cart, Bao Zhu found his behavior extremely strange, asking puzzledly: “What’s wrong with you? Why don’t you be the donkey-riding gentleman for a while, and I’ll go sit in the cart?”

Shisan Lang quickly interjected: “Then I’ll lead the donkey and be the Remnant Sun Academy chief for a while – the Green-Robed Monk.”

Wei Xun found this both amusing and exasperating. After brief consideration, he simply jumped onto the cart’s roof and lay down spread-eagled. Though the weather was cold, the sunshine was good. Like a lynx basking in warmth, he sunned his front then his back, rarely getting such rest.

He hadn’t expected the first half of the journey to exhaust what little life remained to him. His remaining time was as tight as their remaining travel funds. Recalling Shisan Lang’s suggestion, there seemed no other path available. Though he had long accepted the facts and didn’t wish to drag out his existence, even for her sake he should try his luck again.

Lying on the cart roof, Wei Xun chatted idly with Bao Zhu: “I have a master-aunt living in Fuyang County in Xiangzhou. She’s a renowned physician…”

Bao Zhu looked up in surprise: “Why didn’t you mention this earlier? Isn’t that right on our route?”

Wei Xun said: “Though not exactly a detour, that person has a peculiar temperament and will surely require much persuasion, delaying us a day. Moreover, when she came to Chang’an gathering herbs years ago, we met once and she declared me incurable then.”

Bao Zhu immediately said: “That was the past. Perhaps her medical skills have advanced further these years? Since she’s your master-aunt and Chen Shigu’s senior disciple, she must be more skilled than Qiu Ren.”

Hearing this new information, Bao Zhu felt hopeful, only worrying that this person might be as eccentric and disagreeable as Chen Shigu, unwilling to properly treat Wei Xun.

Within days, the group entered Fuyang territory. This area was near the border between Weibo and Zhaoyi military commands, with noticeably more traveling soldiers and supply trains.

According to Wei Xun, his Xiangzhou master-aunt didn’t live in the city but had practiced medicine in the countryside for years. He inquired everywhere about a “Qingyang Daoist” or “Fuyang renowned physician,” but no one had heard of any famous doctors nearby.

Only when asking an old man sunning himself at field edges did they learn of a place called Four Heroes Inn, where lived a witch named Zhou Qingyang who performed exorcisms and fortune-telling, but was detested for frequently speaking maliciously.

With no other leads, the group could only seek Four Heroes Inn. Before entering the village, they heard a woman’s loud cursing voice.

“Ah Chou, open the door! You filthy, stupid country slave! Beggar inferior to dogs and pigs! Miser with sores on his head and pus from his feet! When your parents lived, they had to kneel and call me great-grandmother, yet you dare defy my healing arts. If you don’t discard and bury that wheat flour, within seven days your household will surely be visited by yaksha demons. Your entire family will be tormented by evil spirits, limbs rotting as you scream to death! Then it’ll be too late to pray to gods and buddhas!”

Every sentence was unbearable to hear. Yang Xingjian shook his head and sighed. Having rarely encountered marketplace cursing, Bao Zhu listened with great interest.

Hearing that forceful voice, Wei Xun blinked and said: “This should be the place.”

Everyone followed the cursing sounds to find a tall woman wearing a carefree cap and a strange skirt of multicolored patches sewn with pheasant feathers. She cursed while throwing paper money toward the tightly closed courtyard.

This gaudy outfit was a witch’s attire for practicing healing arts. Whether in court or among commoners, treatment had always combined shamanism and medicine, called “yi.” This master-aunt apparently practiced medicine under a witch’s identity.

Her hair was silver-white without a single black strand. Her face appeared similar in age to Tuoba Sanniang, yet her voice was as resonant as a young woman’s, making her true age difficult to determine. No matter how she cursed and pounded the door, the farm household dared not make a sound.

Wei Xun clasped his hands in salute, calling loudly: “Master-aunt.”

Zhou Qingyang looked back, squinting as she sized him up: “Oh? The little sickly cat grew so tall – how is he not dead yet?”

Hearing her inauspicious words, Bao Zhu grew angry, but thinking this person might have medical skills to save Wei Xun, she forcibly suppressed her temper.

Wei Xun stepped forward: “I beg master-aunt to examine me, to see if I can delay things a while longer.”

Zhou Qingyang turned to kick the door once more, apparently giving up temporarily, then strode away. Only then did Bao Zhu notice one of her feet under her skirt was a wooden prosthetic – she was lame.

Everyone followed Zhou Qingyang to a small courtyard outside the village. Pushing open the door revealed weeds growing knee-high throughout the yard. A large blue donkey was buried head-first among them, contentedly grazing. In a corner stood a large alchemy furnace over half a person’s height, covered in rust and spider webs. Glancing inside, Bao Zhu discovered a large hole at the furnace’s bottom.

Shisan Lang, having joined late, was meeting Zhou Qingyang for the first time, having only heard her mentioned by fellow disciples. He asked curiously: “Master-aunt, how did that family offend you to deserve paper money curses?”

Zhou Qingyang said viciously: “That shit-eating miser – I told him moldy, sprouting wheat was inedible, but he was too stingy to throw it away and ground it into flour. After eating it, the whole family will develop rotting hands and feet.”

She opened her door to reveal a completely chaotic interior – countless medicinal herbs mixed with paper figures and horses for ritual use, scattered everywhere. Zhou Qingyang entered and removed her feathered skirt, casually tossing it onto the junk pile, revealing dirty brown Daoist robes underneath.

She sat on a folding bed and gestured for Wei Xun to sit opposite. Wei Xun extended his arm but wouldn’t roll up his sleeve. Zhou Qingyang didn’t insist, taking his pulse through the fabric while studying him. After a moment, she said with complete seriousness:

“It’s a pregnancy pulse! About five or six months along.”

Bao Zhu and Yang Xingjian exchanged glances, both wearing expressions of wanting to speak but holding back in disgust. They thought no wonder her reputation was unknown – she couldn’t even distinguish yin from yang, male from female.

Wei Xun wasn’t annoyed either, saying helplessly: “Your nephew saw a doctor in Xiagui County who said I had a cold womb and couldn’t give birth.”

Zhou Qingyang said gleefully: “That was a quack! Children indeed can’t be born, but you have quite a few evil thoughts in your belly. Restlessly stirring, harboring ulterior motives – who knows when you’ll be unable to hold back and give birth to them.”

Wei Xun understood her implied meaning, his face alternating between green and white. He withdrew his arm and stood, saying to the confused Bao Zhu and others: “You go browse around first, don’t go far.”

Bao Zhu frowned: “Another secret martial technique inconvenient for outsiders to observe?”

Wei Xun nodded, opened his arms to half-coax, half-push his companions outside, then shut the door tightly.

He knew this master-aunt’s medical skills were miraculous – she needed only one of the four diagnostic methods to determine life or death. Zhou Qingyang had detected his secret thoughts through his pulse, like seeing fish at a stream’s bottom through clear water – impossible to hide.

“How do you know this ‘ghost fetus’ is five or six months along?”

Zhou Qingyang gestured for him to come closer, quickly plucked a hair from his head, and waved it around, saying: “This hair quality changed greatly in the recent section – eating better, feeling happy inside. Suddenly enlightened, thinking day and night about that matter. At your age, this is perfectly normal. Your master-aunt here has outlived people whose descendants now have great-grandsons – can’t I see what schemes you have in mind?”

Wei Xun remained silent.

Zhou Qingyang continued: “This past month, you’ve been courting death somehow, overexerting yourself and rapidly worsening your condition. You’ve seen other quack doctors and taken strong medicine your body can’t process, then come to me – what for? The medicine was good medicine, just meant to steal a cup of tea’s time from the King of Hell for dying people to leave final words. It doesn’t match your illness and only makes your heart more agitated the more you take.”

She glanced downward, then continued: “Your extremities are already numb and wooden – the disease has entered your vital organs. There’s no saving you.”

Only then did Wei Xun notice Zhou Qingyang had been quietly pressing her wooden foot against his boot under the table. As she said, he felt nothing.

He withdrew his feet and spoke directly of his needs: “I promised to escort someone to Youzhou to find relatives. Now I can’t continue. If I could just last two more months… even one month would do.”

Zhou Qingyang chuckled twice, teasing: “Your pulse and complexion are sustained by only one breath from your innate skills. Just honestly speak what’s in your heart – she might not refuse. Better than being buried still a virgin. Can’t produce offspring anyway, no need to worry about posthumous children. All things carry yin and embrace yang, harmonizing through vital energy – it’s natural law, nothing to be ashamed of.”

Wei Xun replied proudly: “I don’t need others’ pity. Moreover, when death approaches, one should cut ties cleanly. Lingering entanglements lead to neither a comfortable death nor righteousness. I only need to extend my life by a month to fulfill my promise – persisting until I deliver her safely, then I can close my eyes in peace.”

These words were magnanimous and unselfish, showing neither the unseemly attitude of those who greedily fear death.

Zhou Qingyang remained silent for a long while, brows tightly knit as if countless thoughts churned in her mind, unable to decide.

After a long time, she sighed deeply, saying wistfully: “After Xuanying’s Dao heart shattered, he could still teach a disciple like you. Your coming to seek help now seems destined – the world’s fortunes are exhausted.”

She stood and rummaged through the junk pile, finally finding an old, small brocade box covered in dust in a corner. Zhou Qingyang brushed away spider webs and opened the lid, revealing a honey pill the size of a pigeon egg.

“Eat this. It can sustain you another year.”

Wei Xun was stunned, hardly believing it. She had just been evasive, unwilling to treat him, yet suddenly produced a miracle cure – he wondered why.

“What is this?”

“Phoenix embryo – didn’t Xuanying… didn’t Chen Shigu already tell you?”