Chapter 102: The Antidote

Within the bamboo grove cottage, at the center of a pile of blood cores atop a stone bed, Ye Cheng sat cross-legged. His heart beat powerfully, his breath steady and deep. With each inhalation, countless threads of blood energy unraveled from the surrounding blood cores, flowing into him through his nose.

Beside him, Old Mu watched intently, satisfaction gleaming in his aged eyes. This disciple possessed a resolute heart—his dedication to the martial path as unyielding as stone. Old Mu had witnessed Ye Cheng endure four years of scorn, always under his watchful eye. Yet, Ye Cheng’s refusal to give up had won his respect. For a youth barely in his teens to persevere so was no small feat.

This, too, was a vital quality for any martial artist aspiring to strength. Without a resolute path of one’s own, one could never truly carve out a road to greatness.

After gazing at Ye Cheng for a long moment, Old Mu’s form shifted, dissolving into a beam of light that dove into the jade pendant hanging from Ye Cheng’s neck. The humble cottage was left with only Ye Cheng, who continued to absorb the energy from the blood cores.

Outside a secret chamber in the Nangong estate:

Several figures blocked the entrance, among them Nangong Xue and four stewards, including Nangong Hao. Their faces betrayed anxiety as their eyes darted repeatedly to the sealed door. One steward, clad in a blue robe, pressed his ear against the door, hoping to catch any sound from within.

“Old Xie, you’re being foolish again. What’s the point of pressing your ear to the door? This chamber is soundproof—you won’t hear a thing,” Nangong Hao said helplessly, casting an exasperated glance at the blue-robed steward.

This steward, named Xie Cang, was not originally of the main Nangong line, but now, as one of Yongle City’s eight chief stewards, he served under the Nangong banner. He was a sworn brother to Nangong Hao, a man who had never married or had children and thus had no attachments. In his middle years, he had pledged his loyalty to the Nangong family and become one of its senior figures.

“It’s just that I’m anxious. The family head grew up under our watch, and seeing him like this—I can’t help but worry. And that Apothecary An has been inside for half a day with no word. Who knows if he’s succeeded?” Xie Cang replied with a bitter smile.

“I understand, Old Xie, but worrying won’t change anything. We can only wait patiently,” Nangong Hao said.

Xie Cang could only nod, though he paced restlessly in front of the door.

Suddenly, Nangong Hao seemed to remember something. He looked over at Nangong Xue, who was leaning by the door, and asked, “Xue’er, how did you acquire that Soul Grass? All of us have searched high and low these past days without finding a single stalk.”

“In an ancient cave within the demon ape territory of the Demon Forest. A top-tier seventh-grade alchemist once passed away there,” Nangong Xue answered directly, without concealment.

“A seventh-grade alchemist?” The others were shocked. Such an individual would command the utmost respect even from the lord of Nanyang Prefecture, and to think such a figure had perished in the Demon Forest…

Nangong Hao, too, was startled by the mention of a seventh-grade alchemist. In the hall earlier, he’d only heard that the grass came from an ancient cave; he hadn’t realized it had been cultivated by such a master.

“No wonder. Soul Grass is a spiritual herb even Apothecary An cannot grow. Only someone of that caliber could have done so,” Nangong Hao mused, stroking his chin. But then something occurred to him, and he asked, “Did you say it was in the demon ape territory?”

“Yes.”

“There should be silver-furred demon apes there, perhaps even golden-furred ones, beasts as powerful as ancient Dan realm experts. Demon apes despise humans trespassing in their land. You only brought Elder Wu with you—how did you manage to enter that cave?” Nangong Hao asked, puzzled.

At his words, Nangong Xue straightened from the stone door, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear. She calmly recounted the events, though she withheld the part about Ye Cheng inheriting the legacy of the seventh-grade alchemist.

It wasn’t that she distrusted these elders of her own family, but deep within her, she felt compelled to protect Ye Cheng’s secret.

When she finished, Nangong Hao and the other three stewards, including Xie Cang, secretly praised her wisdom. Using valuables to hire mercenaries as a distraction for the demon apes while they slipped into the cave was indeed a clever plan. Though any of the four stewards could have braved the demon ape territory alone, given Nangong Xue’s cultivation, they couldn’t have devised a better method themselves.

“Xue’er, in the end, it was mostly luck that allowed you to acquire the Soul Grass. If the golden-furred ape king hadn’t died, you likely wouldn’t have escaped unscathed. In the future, don’t act on your own. If something arises, consult us first,” Nangong Hao said with concern.

“Yes,” Nangong Xue replied obediently. At that moment, the door to the secret chamber creaked open, and Apothecary An emerged, his wrinkled face beaming with a smile as radiant as a blooming chrysanthemum.

“Apothecary An, were you successful?” Nangong Hao couldn’t help but rejoice at the sight of his expression, hurrying to ask. Nangong Xue and the other three stewards also looked expectantly at the apothecary.

“Yes, I did not fail your hopes. At last, I have concocted the antidote for the Five Gu Powder. I estimate it to be of top fifth-grade quality,” Apothecary An replied, clearly delighted at his achievement.

For decades he had carried the antidote’s formula, unable to refine it for lack of Soul Grass. Now, not only had he succeeded, but there was even some left over, which he stored in his spatial ring.

At his words, everyone’s faces lit up with joy. The anxiety that had plagued Xie Cang vanished, replaced by a broad smile.

“Come, let’s hurry and treat the family head,” Xie Cang urged.

“Please, Apothecary An, save my father. I, Nangong Xue, will never forget your great kindness,” Nangong Xue said, her happiness barely concealed.

Apothecary An nodded. The group left the chamber, and in the time it took to drink half a cup of tea, they emerged from the secret passage, turning into a lavishly built pavilion.

The furnishings inside were simple, but at the center stood an ice bed crafted from millennial black ice. Though not as rare or costly as ten-thousand-year ice, its value was considerable, affordable only to families as established as the Nangongs.

On the ice bed lay a middle-aged man in ornate dress, his face shrouded in black miasma.