As soon as Zhou Qingyang spoke these words, Wei Xun’s face suddenly changed color. He abruptly stood up and repeated in shock:

“What?!”

“Whether you call it phoenix embryo or living pearl… no matter what name it goes by, this is your life-saving medicine.” She placed the brocade box on the table, extended one finger, and pushed the medicine toward him.

Wei Xun’s face was full of suspicion as he lowered his head to stare at the honey pill in the box. The thing looked no different from ordinary medicinal pills—just a dark, unremarkable lump with nothing special about it, which filled him with doubts.

“How do you have this thing? I’ve never heard that Master Uncle had a hobby for tomb robbing.”

“Because it never came from a tomb in the first place. That old fool deceived you. He just needed an accomplice to vent his resentment by desecrating corpses. As for why this is in my hands—three years ago when I went to Guanzhong to gather herbs, Chen Shigu gave me the raw materials for the phoenix embryo and asked me to refine it. He originally planned to tell you the truth before dying and have you come to Xiangzhou to get the medicine from me. But you six ‘dutiful sons’ didn’t even have the patience to hear your master’s dying words before burying him.”

Wei Xun had long suspected that Chen Shigu was hiding the truth, but still harbored doubts. He pressed further: “How did Master Uncle learn about Master’s final moments?”

Zhou Qingyang complained: “I kept wondering why you hadn’t come looking for me when your death was approaching. It wasn’t until two months ago that tall fellow with the scar on his face came by under the pretext of ‘visiting Master Uncle’ and briefly explained what happened. That little rascal had a sweet tongue, but when he left, he helped himself to quite a bit of my wound medicine.”

Wei Xun understood that the person Zhou Qingyang mentioned was Huo Qi Lang, who had previously been hired by Bao Zhu to deliver a letter to Youzhou and had also passed through Xiangzhou.

“Didn’t Old Seven say anything else? Master left behind a strange phrase before dying that has the entire martial world eyeing Canyang Academy with predatory intent. Could it be that his relic is this pill?”

Being questioned repeatedly by this junior, Zhou Qingyang’s tone grew increasingly impatient: “The few of us parted ways fifty years ago. If not for our master’s sake, I wouldn’t bother with Chen Shigu’s troubles. Are you going to take it or not?”

Wei Xun stared at the suspicious pill, recalling Chen Shigu’s lifelong unpredictable and mysterious behavior. Fearing another trap, he dared not easily consume this thing of unknown origin.

Seeing this, Zhou Qingyang showed an expression of ‘believe it or don’t’, and sneered: “In my lifetime, I’ve seen countless fools who ignore medical advice and seek their own death. One more won’t make a difference.”

With that, she reached out and tore off half of the pill, stuffed it directly into her mouth, chewed it, and swallowed.

“Now you have six months left to live.”

Zhou Qingyang’s act of testing the medicine on herself was truly unexpected. Looking at the remaining deformed half-pill, Wei Xun felt an anxiety he had never experienced before welling up in his heart.

The person before him was no ordinary physician. She was the first disciple of their grand master, the Barefoot Daoist. Though her face appeared young, she was actually over seventy years old. Even Chen Shigu, whose martial arts were the best in the world, was merely her junior martial brother before her. If she intended to poison him, it wouldn’t be ordinary knockout drugs that internal energy could suppress.

But thinking it over carefully, if Zhou Qingyang truly wanted to deceive him, she shouldn’t have said the medicine’s effectiveness only lasted one year. She would have used more enticing rhetoric or more subtle poisoning methods.

Wei Xun deliberated repeatedly: if he took it, he might fall into another trap; if he didn’t, he wouldn’t survive the journey to Youzhou and couldn’t continue protecting Bao Zhu.

With this thought, Wei Xun steeled his heart, reached for the half pill, and put it in his mouth.

The thing was bitter and fishy, more nauseating than pepper. He forcibly suppressed his instinctive revulsion and managed to swallow it, his throat rising with a sickening taste. Then he stared intently at Zhou Qingyang.

Zhou Qingyang knew he was waiting for the medicine to take effect to verify its authenticity while guarding against her having secretly taken an antidote. She felt quite displeased.

“Little brat, Master Uncle will teach you a lesson today. Do you know why Chen Shigu died so early?”

Wei Xun crossed his arms over his chest and answered cautiously: “He died of illness.”

“Yes, but also no. He died because his heart ailment took hold and he took his own life.” As a lifelong master physician who dedicated herself to medical arts, Zhou Qingyang couldn’t help but show regret: “That’s the most troublesome disease. Even I am powerless to reverse it. As for his method of self-destruction, it’s exactly the mistake you just made.”

Zhou Qingyang pointed at Wei Xun and speculated: “Look at your ghastly pale face. Chen Shigu was addicted to drinking ancient wine from tombs. Since you’ve been going into tombs with him since childhood, you must have picked up this bad habit too, thinking that if Master could drink it, the wine was fine. You didn’t know this was precisely one of the factors sending you to death’s door.”

Hearing this, Wei Xun’s heart began to drum with worry. But it wasn’t because he felt any discomfort from taking the pill—on the contrary, he felt his dantian was warm and comfortable.

“In ancient times, craftsmen forging bronze vessels often mixed in lead and tin to adjust hardness and facilitate shaping. Lead doesn’t dissolve in water, but when soaked in wine, it slowly releases toxicity. Regular consumption causes illness and even madness. Chen Shigu suffered years of corpse poison from tombs and consumed large amounts of lead-contaminated wine. Like those fools who ate longevity pills, he eventually poisoned himself to death.”

Seeing the stunned expression on Wei Xun’s face, Zhou Qingyang couldn’t help but burst into laughter.

Wei Xun recalled why he began drinking ancient wine—it was when his cold paralysis symptoms gradually appeared in his youth. To dispel cold and relieve pain, he imitated Chen Shigu’s behavior. Who could have predicted that was his mad act of digging his own grave? Moreover, he had always been solitary, never discussing this strange hobby with anyone until he met Bao Zhu and stopped.

Wei Xun questioned: “Master’s skill was far deeper than mine. Why did he die while I’m still alive?”

Zhou Qingyang said contemptuously: “If everyone had identical symptoms, what would physicians be for? With the same disease, whether deep or shallow, urgent or gradual, the manifestations aren’t necessarily the same. Your symptoms are pale complexion and numbness in hands and feet; Xuanying’s were combativeness, irritability, delirium, and madness. No one in this world could kill him through force. He tormented himself for decades before finally managing to kill himself.”

Zhou Qingyang examined the strand of Wei Xun’s hair she had just plucked and said: “You’ve only been drinking for a few years, so the harm is still shallow. Stopping in time has some mitigating effect on your condition. But Rome wasn’t built in a day—you have the root of congenital cold syndrome and still can’t escape fate.”

Speaking to this point, if the pill he had just taken contained deadly poison, it should have begun taking effect by now.

Wei Xun observed his opponent warily, seeing that Zhou Qingyang remained composed and unperturbed. Meanwhile, though he was indoors, he felt as if bathed in gentle sunlight. While unable to melt solid ice, that warm current slowly traveled along his Governing and Conception vessels. His little finger, where the Hand Shaoyin Heart Meridian was located—stagnant for years—suddenly twitched like spring thunder awakening hibernating creatures.

Wei Xun quickly rolled up his sleeves and discovered that the purple-blue veins that were about to spread to the back of his hand had visibly lightened. His heart filled with amazement: could that fishy, bitter pill really be the “phoenix embryo” he had desperately sought for years?!

Zhou Qingyang observed Wei Xun’s complexion and knew he had felt the benefits. She said: “This living pearl can keep you safe temporarily. If you want to continue living, you must take medicine regularly. As for the formula and ingredients…”

Wei Xun interrupted her, declaring: “Getting her to Youzhou is the top priority. Whatever conditions you have, we’ll discuss them when I return.”

Zhou Qingyang flew into a rage and raised her hand to slap him. Wei Xun lightly dodged, and she didn’t touch a hair on his head.

Knowing she couldn’t catch this brat, she scowled and threatened: “This matter won’t take you half a day and doesn’t require a detour. If you dare follow that scarface’s example—eating and running like him—I have ways to make you and your donkey wail like ghosts!”

Outside, Bao Zhu waited and waited, but the person getting examined never emerged. Earlier, Zhou Qingyang had said some underworld cant to Wei Xun that she couldn’t understand at all, leaving her scratching her head with curiosity. When she asked Shisan Lang, he looked equally bewildered and clueless.

After an unknown amount of time, Wei Xun finally opened the door and came out.

Bao Zhu had been paying particular attention to his condition lately and immediately noticed his complexion had improved, filling her with joy.

Looking at Zhou Qingyang again, she was carrying a large bundle and several gourds of different sizes, all tied to the back of her blue donkey. Then she mounted the donkey, looking ready to travel far.

Wei Xun walked to Bao Zhu’s side and said: “Fortunately, Master Uncle gave me medicine, and I feel much better. However, I need to help her with two things as compensation.”

Hearing this, Bao Zhu immediately said: “What, need to fight someone? Do you need me to provide backup?”

Zhou Qingyang clicked her tongue: “Young brat, why are you so combative? I’ve spent my life practicing medicine to save lives and heal the wounded. I wouldn’t do anything vicious or harmful.”

Shisan Lang, seeing his martial brother had received treatment, was also extremely pleased. Looking up, he asked: “What does Master Uncle want to do? We’ll all go together.”

Zhou Qingyang, sitting on her donkey, said flatly: “It’s nothing much, just going to tear down a temple.”

Hearing this, Yang Xingjian couldn’t help but cough, muttering to himself that destroying temples and Buddhas—wasn’t that vicious and harmful? From top to bottom, this entire sect didn’t seem like decent people.

Wei Xun and the others thought Zhou Qingyang had a grudge against some temple or monastery and wanted to storm in for revenge. Since even the combined efforts of the three elders of White Camel Temple couldn’t subdue the Green Shirt Guest, dealing with a mere twenty monks or Taoists would be nothing.

With Zhou Qingyang leading the way, the group followed the small river forward. They hadn’t gone far when they saw a dilapidated building beside a large willow tree. The structure wasn’t large—only three rooms and three frames—with weeds growing wild on the roof and broken doors and windows. It looked like a shrine that had been abandoned for many years.

Walking closer, they found neither monks nor Taoists inside. A fallen door plaque lay in two-foot-high weeds, and only after careful examination could they make out the characters “Four Heroes Temple.” It seemed this village called Four Heroes Store got its name from this broken shrine.

Yang Xingjian peered inside and whispered: “Does this building even need tearing down? It looks ready to collapse.”

Wei Xun, Bao Zhu, and Shisan Lang were full of curiosity as they entered the shrine. They saw four life-sized clay statues arranged in a row, some sitting, some standing. With the passage of time, the faces had become blurred and dilapidated. The center of the shrine, where an incense burner should have been placed, was now empty—clearly no one had come to worship for many years.

The two statues on the left could barely be made out as young women. One was dressed as a female Taoist, wearing a blue-green crane cloak and looking spirited. The other woman wore red martial attire and looked heroically vigorous. On the right was a smiling young man in white hemp clothing. The last statue had been kicked over by someone, with earth scattered on the ground, leaving only a black base.

Bao Zhu studied them intently and felt that the face of the leading green-clothed woman bore some resemblance to Zhou Qingyang. But her hair was black, and she sat in the True Martial posture with one leg folded inside her robe, making it impossible to see if she had any disability—the craftsman’s design was quite clever.

Yang Xingjian, seeing that the shrine had long been unmaintained, figured that even if they destroyed it, it wouldn’t provoke the villagers’ hostility, and he breathed a temporary sigh of relief.

Zhou Qingyang dismounted from her blue donkey, entered the room, and stared at the statues in a daze for a while. Then she gathered dirt before the red-clothed woman and white-clothed man to use as incense, whispering a few words. Afterward, she turned to urge Wei Xun:

“What are you standing there for? Get to work. If it weren’t for the dry weather making fire dangerous to the village, I wouldn’t need to ask others.”

Shisan Lang couldn’t help asking: “Is this green-clothed female Taoist you, Master Uncle?”

Zhou Qingyang didn’t deny it, but said impatiently: “So talkative—it’s none of you children’s business.”

Wei Xun pointed to the collapsed statue at the end and asked: “Was Master originally on this base? Looks like he beat us to it.”

Zhou Qingyang nodded: “Xuanying was always impatient and couldn’t wait. Who would have thought this broken building could stand for over fifty years without falling?”

Bao Zhu asked: “Who is Xuanying? Is that Chen Shigu?”

Zhou Qingyang said: “That was the Taoist name our master gave him. He seemed to prefer the name his friends gave him.”

Bao Zhu was greatly amazed: “Chen Shigu, that demonic sect master who killed without blinking—in his youth he could actually be called a hero and have a living shrine commemorating him?”

Zhou Qingyang laughed self-deprecatingly: “Who hasn’t been young and naive? Unless they died early.”

Even Wei Xun and Shisan Lang were hearing for the first time that Chen Shigu had other peers and fellow disciples. So this dilapidated Four Heroes Temple was a living shrine dedicated to the four disciples of the Barefoot Daoist.

Bao Zhu looked at the empty base again, wondering what the legendary figure who made the martial world tremble with fear looked like in his youth.

Shisan Lang said hurriedly: “Shrines are built by common people to worship virtuous benefactors. Master Uncles must have acted with chivalry and eliminated evil back then, deeply revered by the people. That’s great merit! Do we really need to tear it down?”

Zhou Qingyang smiled: “Everyone who remembered those events died during the Tianbao Rebellion. The current villagers all moved here later—no one remembers us, and this god-forsaken broken temple has had no incense for ages. Of the four people, only one remains alive, and now I’m retiring too. There’s no point keeping this embarrassing eyesore around—it’s like evidence of our youthful crimes.”