Chapter 90: Alchemist
At the same time, inside the Apricot Medicinal Hall, Elder Feng had just finished treating a patient and was sipping tea in the main hall.
Several cultivators entered, bowed respectfully, and said, "Someone in our clan is gravely injured. We humbly request Elder Feng to lend his aid."
Elder Feng glanced at their pale-yellow robes embroidered with golden thread. "You're from the Qian family?"
"Yes."
"How severe are the injuries?"
One of the Qian family cultivators hesitated. "It seems he was wounded by a fire-type spiritual force of great power. His flesh is charred, meridians damaged, and his life force is faint…"
Elder Feng frowned. "That serious?"
"We invited several alchemists to treat him, but they quarreled among themselves and couldn't agree on a method. So we came to request Elder Feng's insight. In Tōngxiān City, your skill in alchemy and healing is unmatched."
"You flatter me," Elder Feng said. "But time is precious. I'll pack my things and go."
Elder Feng never discriminated when saving lives—whether common rogue cultivator or noble family disciple, he would lend a hand if they were truly in need.
The Qian cultivators bowed again. "Many thanks, Elder Feng."
He selected a few herbs, bottles of pills, and several alchemy manuals, gave brief instructions to his apprentices, and followed the cultivators to the Qian estate.
When they arrived, he learned the injured person was Qian Xing. Elder Feng's brows knit slightly—displeasure showing.
He had heard of Qian Xing's behavior: bullying others, throwing his weight around, acting with arrogance.
Still, those were rumors. He hadn't seen them himself, and perhaps not all were true. Moreover, while Qian Xing was a spoiled troublemaker, he hadn't heard of him committing true atrocities. Elder Feng couldn't just watch him die.
The Qian family estate was filled with grief—women weeping softly, elders looking grave.
Elder Feng sighed. As long as one has not yet ascended, one is still human—and humans have life and death. He had seen such scenes countless times, yet still felt compassion. If one can save, one should save.
He entered the room to examine Qian Xing's injuries, then began discussing treatment methods with several other alchemists.
One alchemist said, "Young Master Qian's wounds are too severe. We must nourish him gently—use wood-type spiritual herbs with restorative pills to slowly heal his body over time."
Another disagreed. "Gentle nourishment won't cure him! The fire-type energy lingers inside—if we don't purge it, it'll form Fire Poison, corroding his meridians and qi sea. The consequences will be endless."
"And how do you propose to purge it?"
"With Heavenly Source Water, combined with Water Spirit Pills. Water and fire counteract—completely cleansing the Fire Poison. Once the poison is gone, his body and meridians will recover naturally."
"Water and fire balance? Too violent! Before the Fire Poison's gone, the young master will be dead!"
…
The alchemists argued endlessly, each clinging to their view.
Elder Feng coughed lightly, and the hall fell silent.
He had treated people in Tōngxiān City for over a hundred years. Though he held no power, his reputation was immense.
Few cultivators in the city hadn't been touched by his kindness—if not themselves, then their relatives or friends had benefited from his skill. And who could say what fate might bring? One day they might all need Elder Feng's help.
Those present respected him deeply; some had even visited him before becoming official alchemists, seeking his guidance.
So when he coughed, they all stopped talking and stood quietly.
"Fire Poison must indeed be cleansed," Elder Feng began, which made the pro-purging alchemist brighten.
"But Heavenly Source Water must not be used—it's too fierce."
"You speak truth, Elder," that alchemist said respectfully.
"Gentle nourishment is good," Elder Feng continued, "but not too mild, or you'll end up nourishing the poison instead."
He then listed several herbs and pills, analyzing Qian Xing's specific condition in detail—how much to use, how to adjust the dosage as symptoms changed, and so on.
Finally, he said, "Alchemy requires exchange and discussion. Having your own ideas is good—but being stubborn and unwilling to listen is not."
The alchemists nodded in agreement.
When Elder Feng finished, he sat aside and drank tea while the others quietly discussed prescriptions and methods.
As he sipped, he suddenly asked, "By the way, how did Qian Xing get hurt so badly?"
The others paused awkwardly—no one wanted to speak. After all, it wasn't a pleasant story, and they were inside the Qian household.
One alchemist, seeing no family members nearby, whispered, "I heard Young Master Qian was bullying someone, but ended up getting beaten himself."
Elder Feng frowned.
Another said, "Not beaten—he used a new fire spell to attack someone, but misfired. It backfired and left him like this."
"Nonsense! A spell backlash looks different," someone retorted.
"A backlash wound spreads from inside to outside. His burns clearly came from the outside in."
"Right. He was attacked with a fire-type technique."
"Fire arts take time to form. In a few breaths, he could've dodged. He's not a fool—why would he just stand there?"
"How do you know he's not a fool?"
"Maybe he was careless!"
"You're all wrong, it was definitely a fire talisman, and not a cheap one either. A single-use type, powerful stuff…"
…
Their gossip grew lively.
Discussing medicine was hard work—draining the mind. But gossip? That came effortlessly.
Elder Feng sighed in exasperation. "And who exactly was he bullying?"
"Apparently… a child? A cultivator saw and couldn't stand it, so stepped in. The two sides fought—it caused quite a stir. Still some righteous cultivators around, it seems."
Elder Feng's eyes darkened. "Do you know who that child was?"
"Not exactly. I heard the one who helped was a disciple from Master Chen's Artifact Workshop. The bullied child's surname was… Mo, I think?"
Elder Feng set down his teacup, rose, and swept his sleeve as he walked out.
"Elder Feng…" The alchemists scrambled after him.
The Qian family members rushed to intercept. "Elder, where are you going?"
"Home."
"But the young master's injuries... he still needs you!"
"Not treating him." Elder Feng's tone was like a blade.
"This… Elder…" The Qian disciples looked helpless.
A Qian family elder, his aura deep and his face lined with age, blocked the doorway. "Elder Feng, please reconsider. If you heal the young master, the family head will surely reward you handsomely."
A Foundation Establishment cultivator!
The alchemists nearby were stunned, exchanging uneasy glances.
Elder Feng looked at him coldly. "Are you teaching me how to act?"
"I wouldn't dare. I only beg that you save him," the elder said with a bow.
Elder Feng snorted. "I have spent my life refining pills and healing to save lives, not to create sins. Do you think your young master is worthy of being saved by me?"
The Qian elder was left speechless. He knew all too well what kind of person Qian Xing was—and also that with Elder Feng's temperament, once he learned the truth, he'd never agree to treat him.
Elder Feng's expression grew icy. "Will you step aside or not?"
The Foundation cultivator, despite his strength, felt strangely cowed under Elder Feng's steady gaze. After a moment's hesitation, he quietly moved aside.
Elder Feng flicked his sleeve and strode out of the Qian estate. Several alchemists seized the chance to excuse themselves, while the rest—too afraid to offend the Qian family—stayed behind in misery.
One Qian disciple whispered to the elder, "Why didn't you stop him, Elder?"
The elder glared at him. "Stop him? My father's life was saved by that old man! What face do I have to stop him? The fact he didn't curse me outright is mercy enough!"
(End of Chapter)