Chapter 217: The Sky Holds Secrets, Han Sha Qi

“Hurry! There’s a Daoist temple up ahead—we must take shelter from this rain!”

“Xiao Rou, hold on a little longer. We’ve found a place to take cover!”

“Once we’re inside, we’ll build a fire to warm up. You’ll be fine, I promise!”

Amidst the clamor, five or six people burst into the main hall, all soaked to the bone, shoulders burdened with packs, some even carrying weapons—clearly not ordinary folk. One man, in particular, had a young girl slung across his back.

They stumbled into the hall, startled to find others already there. After a brief pause, they quickly dismissed their surprise. Nodding politely toward Lu Qing and the others, they hurried to the far side and gently laid the girl down.

But the girl’s condition was alarming. Pale as snow, her lips tinged blue, trembling uncontrollably, with a faint scent of blood clinging to her soaked clothes. She had slipped into a semi-conscious state.

“Xiao Rou! Xiao Rou! Wake up!”

The middle-aged man who had carried her shook her shoulders frantically, trying to rouse her.

Her eyelids fluttered open just slightly. She managed a weak whisper—“Father”—before collapsing again into unconsciousness.

“Xiao Rou!” The man cried out in horror, shaking her harder.

His panic deepened as he noticed her breath growing fainter, his eyes turning red with desperation.

“Master, what should we do?!” The others were equally distraught.

But their belongings had been lost en route. Not a single healing salve remained. They were utterly helpless.

“Excuse me, sir,” came a calm voice. “May I take a look, if you don’t mind?”

They turned. Before them stood an elderly man with a kind and gentle face—Chen Laodaifu.

In truth, the moment Old Doctor saw the girl, his expression had hardened. When he saw the middle-aged man and his companions clearly at a loss, he could no longer stay silent.

“Old man, are you a physician?” the man asked, hesitating.

“I am a healer,” Old Doctor replied softly. “I’ve some knowledge in treating injuries and illness. Perhaps I can help.”

“A doctor? Oh, thank the heavens!” The man’s face lit up. He quickly stepped aside. “Please, sir. My daughter was already wounded before this storm. Now, soaked for so long—she’s unconscious. I beg you, save her. I will repay you in full.”

“Let me examine her first,” Old Doctor said, kneeling beside the girl and placing his fingers on her wrist.

His expression changed instantly.

“A Qing, brew medicine—Bao Xin Tang, one dose, boil it hard and fast, now!”

“Xiao Yan, bring my medicine chest!”

“Yes, Master!”

Lu Qing, seeing the urgency in his master’s tone, immediately reached into their pack and pulled out medicinal herbs.

Xiao Yan, ever observant, swiftly retrieved the medicine chest.

The middle-aged man and his companions relaxed visibly.

With such herbs and a proper medicine chest, it was clear: this old man was no impostor.

Old Doctor took the chest, pulled out a small pouch, and began by inserting several acupuncture needles into the girl’s body. Only then did he look up.

“Sir,” he said, “your daughter’s condition is grave. I must treat her immediately with acupuncture. Also, her wet clothes must be changed. Who among you can assist?”

The man instantly replied, “Qian Lin, you help her change.”

“Yes, Master!” A young woman in her twenties stepped forward.

But her face twisted with hesitation. “Master… our packs were lost in the storm. Everything is soaked. We have no dry clothes.”

The man froze, then turned to Old Doctor with a pleading look.

Old Doctor paused, then said, “We do have clean clothes—just not women’s. But I suppose they’ll do.”

Lu Qing’s group had only men—except for Xiao Yan. No women’s garments.

“Swordsmen of the world, we don’t worry over trifles,” the man said quickly. “I’ll pay for them, of course.”

“Helping those in need is no burden,” Old Doctor said. “Zi An, fetch some dry clothes.”

“Yes.” Wei Zian returned moments later with several sets of garments.

Qian Lin took the unconscious girl, following Old Doctor into the inner hall. Xiao Yan was also summoned to help.

The man exhaled in relief.

Old Doctor was clearly an elder, and with a little girl assisting—there was no way he’d do anything improper.

“Xiao Yan, help her dry off and change clothes,” Old Doctor instructed, removing the needles and turning his back.

“Okay!” Xiao Yan chirped.

Qian Lin had initially wanted to refuse—how could such a small child help? But alone, she’d struggled to undress her unconscious sister. So she reluctantly agreed.

To her surprise, the tiny girl was surprisingly strong. With her help, the change was done swiftly and smoothly.

Once the girl was dressed, Old Doctor turned back, reinserted the needles, and began his acupuncture treatment.

His skill was flawless—years of practice had made his needle placement precise even through fabric.

After a few minutes of careful technique, the girl’s breathing stabilized. A faint flush returned to her pale cheeks.

Old Doctor continued checking her pulse. But his expression grew darker with each passing second.

Qian Lin watched, heart pounding. She nearly broke down and asked, “Master, how is she?”

Just then, Lu Qing’s voice called from outside, “Master, the medicine is ready.”

Old Doctor’s expression eased.

“Bring it in.”

After the girl swallowed the medicine, Old Doctor emerged from the back chamber with Xiao Yan.

The middle-aged man and his companions rushed forward.

“Old man, how is my daughter?”

“Lucky you arrived when you did,” Old Doctor said. “Her condition is stable for now. I’ve already applied Golden Wound Medicine to her wounds. But she still needs close observation and two more doses.”

“May I see her?”

“Of course. But only one at a time.”

The man nodded. “Da Shi, wait outside. I’ll go in alone.”

Inside, seeing his daughter’s improved state, he exhaled in relief.

Stepping out, he bowed deeply to Old Doctor.

“Thank you, elder. You’ve saved my daughter’s life. I will never forget this kindness.”

He thought of her earlier state—barely breathing, on the verge of death. The memory chilled him.

“Such gratitude is unnecessary,” Old Doctor said gently. “Healing is our duty.”

“But may I ask… may I also have you examine me?” Old Doctor added.

“Me? But I feel perfectly fine,” the man replied, surprised.

“Do not assume your strength makes you immune. Illness often begins subtly—so quietly, even you may not notice.”

The man paused. Then, remembering the skill Old Doctor had shown, he nodded.

“Very well. Please, examine me.”

Old Doctor placed two fingers on his wrist.

At the same time, a subtle thread of Xian Tian Qi slipped into the man’s body—stealthy, probing.

After a long silence, Old Doctor withdrew.

“May I also examine your disciples?”

The man had no objection. After all, he’d allowed himself to be checked.

“Da Shi, come here. Let the elder take your pulses.”

The three male disciples stepped forward.

Old Doctor checked each one in turn.

Lu Qing, observing from afar, sensed something odd.

He’d already used his abilities to verify their identities—no danger, no ill intent.

Still, he decided to ask his master later.

“Well?” the man asked once the examination was done.

“Good news,” Old Doctor smiled. “All of you are in good health. Just a bit of cold invasion. A warm decoction will do the trick.”

“A Qing, make some ginger tea for them,” Old Doctor said.

“Yes, Master.”

“Thank you, elder,” the man said gratefully, bowing to Lu Qing as well. “You’ve gone to great trouble.”

They had been drenched for hours. A warm drink was exactly what they needed.

“Nothing much,” Old Doctor said. “But I haven’t asked—what is your name?”

“I’m Fang,” the man replied. “Tao—Tao as in Tao of Taoist.”

“Pleased to meet you, Elder. And you?”

“I’m Chen,” Old Doctor said. “Call me Chen Ye.”

They chatted for a while.

Meanwhile, Lu Qing finished preparing the ginger tea.

Seeing their packs were lost, he also boiled a pot of rice porridge and served it to them.

The sight of warm food brought instant gratitude.

They hadn’t eaten in hours—now, they devoured it with hunger.

“Lu Xiao Langjun, what did you put in this porridge? It’s delicious beyond belief!”

The tallest of the disciples, Da Shi, exclaimed.

“Just some homemade salted meat,” Lu Qing said with a smile. “Nothing special.”

“Who would’ve thought we’d find such a feast in this remote temple?” Fang Tao marveled.

“The cooking skill of this young master is truly unmatched.”

The others were too busy eating to speak, their heads barely lifting.

Laughter and light chatter filled the hall once more. The mood had warmed.

Outside, the rain had lessened—but not stopped. It continued through the night.

Old Doctor checked on the girl again, giving her another dose of medicine.

“Master Fang,” he said, “your daughter is out of danger. She should wake by morning. With proper rest, full recovery is certain.”

“Thank you, Chen Laodaifu!” Fang Tao beamed.

“Night is falling. We’ve traveled all day. It’s time to rest. If anything happens to her during the night, come call me.”

“Good night, Chen Laodaifu.”

After Old Doctor left, Ma Gu entered, carrying a blanket.

“Master Fang, this blanket was sent by our master—specifically for your daughter. He said she’s ill and caught Wind-Cold, so she must not be chilled at night. We have few blankets, so we couldn’t spare more. Forgive us.”

Lu Qing’s group traveled under cover. Ma Gu’s role was that of a stablehand—so to outsiders, Old Doctor was “Master.”

Fang Tao’s eyes widened with joy.

He’d been worried sick about his daughter’s night. This blanket was a gift from heaven.

As for the others—strong and healthy—they could easily endure one night without extra warmth.

While Fang Tao arranged the blanket, on the other side of the hall, behind a curtain, Lu Qing sat across from Old Doctor.

A strange essence pulsed from Old Doctor, wrapping the space around them in a two-meter radius.

“Master,” Lu Qing asked quietly, “did you find anything unusual when you examined Master Fang and his disciples?”

His voice was trapped within the space—neither reaching Wei Zian nor Ma Gu nearby.

“Yes,” Old Doctor replied. “I detected a trace of Han Sha Qi within them. Especially in the injured girl—her body is saturated with it.”

“Han Sha Qi?” Lu Qing’s eyes widened.

“Indeed. Normally, a storm like this would only bring Wind-Cold. But now, Han Sha Qi has infiltrated their bodies. That’s not natural.”

Old Doctor’s expression darkened.

Lu Qing’s mind raced. “You suspect…?”

“The rain today was unnatural. And for Han Sha Qi to enter the body so deeply—it suggests something far more serious is afoot.”

Lu Qing fell silent.

His master’s words carried weight.

He’d heard of the coming rebirth of spiritual energy from the Carefree Hermit’s writings—but those were just notes. No one had lived through it.

No one knew what the true changes would be.

But this rain—this cold, this unnatural Qi—was not just about spirit energy returning.

It hinted at something deeper.

Something ancient.

And then he remembered the warning Old Doctor had sensed earlier—the one that had stirred unease in his soul.

For a long moment, master and disciple sat in silence.

The storm raged on outside.

The world felt heavier.

(End of Chapter)

Chapter end