6kv Chapter 57: Dew on Spring Grass
Chapter 57: Dew on Spring Grass
The morning mist hadn't yet dissipated, clinging to the edge of the rotting bone swamp in a hazy gray, like an overturned medicine pot that had been kept up all night, even the wind carrying a damp, bitter smell that couldn't be washed away. Water droplets dripped from the eaves of the oilcloth shed, splashing into the half-dried blood pools below, the sound thick and suffocating. Zhao Si huddled in the corner of the shed, staring at the seven-leaf clover he had taken from the coarse cloth bag, its leaves edged with silver threads, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down, wanting to ask something, when he saw Lin Yan bending down to examine the wound on Su Qingyao's arm—the wound's edges were a deathly bluish-black, like the skin of a frozen eggplant on a winter night, slightly swollen, with dark purple lines showing through the flesh, winding their way up to her shoulder.
Lin Yan's fingertips hovered an inch above the wound, hesitant to strike. The memories brought by the tree demon's core contained fragments of herbal medicinal properties, but they were hazy and indistinct, like viewing flowers through water. He only knew that the herb was cold in nature and could counteract dampness and poison, but how to use it, how much to use, whether to crush it for external application, decoct it for internal consumption, or a combination of both, he had no complete certainty. Su Qingyao's breath was weak, allowing no room for error.
He looked up, his gaze sweeping across the shed. Li Tie leaned against the other side, the charred area on his right shoulder branded with a red-hot dagger and treated with Chiyang powder, which had barely stopped the festering. However, his face was sallow, his lips were cracked, and cold sweat kept pouring down his forehead. Beside him were two other team members, their arms and calves also bearing burns from venom splattered on them. Although not as severe as Li Tie's, they were still red, swollen, and oozing pus, emitting a sweet, putrid stench.
"Lu Ling," Lin Yan's voice was low and hoarse from repeated battles, "take a leaf, mash it into a paste, and mix it with some clean water."
Lu Ling responded, carefully cutting off a narrow leaf with the clearest silver lines along its edge using the dagger at her waist. She placed it on a clean stone slab, then found another pebble and, using the dim light seeping in from outside the shed, began to grind it meticulously. The leaf was initially tough, but after being crushed, it released a clear, slightly bitter juice, a very pale turquoise in color. When mixed with water, it formed a small pool of shimmering, cool medicinal paste.
"Try it first." Lin Yan gestured for one of the team members with an arm injury to step forward. The man's name was Sun Da. The outside of his left arm was corroded by venom, a patch the size of a copper coin, the skin and flesh rolled back, the edges blackened. Lin Yan used a wooden sliver to scoop up a little medicinal paste and gently applied it to the wound. The paste touched the festering flesh and immediately emitted a very faint "sizzling" sound, like snow falling on a red-hot iron plate. Then, a faint, almost invisible black wisp of smoke rose from the edge of the wound, carrying away an even more pungent, fishy smell. Sun Da froze for a moment, then his brow relaxed, and he let out a soft "Eh": "Cool...cool, it doesn't hurt anymore, it feels like...like a breath is drilling into it."
Everyone watched with bated breath. In the time it takes to drink a cup of tea, the horrifying bluish-black edge of the wound visibly receded, revealing fresh, blood-tinged tender flesh underneath. Although it hadn't healed, the putrid, deathly aura had greatly diminished. Sun Da tried to move his arm; although it still ached, the burning, bone-chilling pain from before was gone.
Lin Yan felt somewhat relieved and applied the paste to Li Tie and another wounded soldier. Li Tie was seriously injured, and when the paste was applied, he shuddered violently, his teeth clenched so tightly they cracked, and veins bulged on his forehead, but he didn't utter a sound. He only managed to squeeze out a sentence through his teeth: "It works... It feels like there are ice needles picking out poison inside..."
Seeing that the external application was indeed effective, Lin Yan no longer hesitated. He crushed all the remaining leaves, took half of them, and mixed them into a more diluted medicinal liquid, which he then gave to Sun Da and the other wounded soldier to drink. The two men held the rough earthenware bowls, looked at each other, and tilted their heads back to gulp it down. The medicinal liquid was initially icy cold as it entered their throats, then transformed into a refreshing sensation that penetrated their chests and abdomens, as if their limbs and bones had been washed by a mountain spring. The nausea and dizziness caused by the poisonous gas over the past few days were mostly gone.
"Internal and external application, balancing yin and yang, this is the correct approach." Lin Yan watched as the two people's expressions gradually improved, and the last bit of doubt in his heart dissipated. He turned to Su Qingyao, who was still unconscious. In the dim morning light, the girl's pale face resembled a lifeless porcelain doll, with only the extremely faint twitching of her nostrils proving that her soul had not yet departed. The inky black poisonous markings on her left arm had spread over her shoulder and climbed up to the side of her neck, like vicious vines, a shocking sight.
The medicine was ready, poured into half a clean coconut shell, a clear, emerald-green pool reflecting the faint light filtering through the ceiling. Lin Yan picked it up, but paused—Su Qingyao's jaw was clenched, her lips were bloodless, she was unconscious, how could he feed her medicine?
He paused for a moment, then looked up at the people in the shed. Lu Ling was tidying up the medicine supplies, Zhao Si was taking care of Li Tie, and Wang Dashan and Zhou Fu were guarding the entrance, their backs tired but straight. Everyone's gaze, intentionally or unintentionally, fell on Su Qingyao, their eyes filled with concern, worry, and an unspoken understanding—everyone knew how difficult this method of feeding medicine was.
"You... go outside for a moment." Lin Yan's voice was low but clear. With his back to everyone, his gaze fell on Su Qingyao's bloodless lips. "Stand guard outside the shed and don't let anyone get close."
Lu Ling paused, glancing at Lin Yan's stiff back, then noticing the terrifying poisonous mark on Su Qingyao's neck. She said nothing, only giving a soft "hmm," before rising first, patting Zhao Si's shoulder, signaling him to come out. Wang Dashan and Zhou Fu exchanged a glance, then silently retreated, casually covering the tattered oilcloth curtain. Inside the shed, only Lin Yan's heavy breathing and Su Qingyao's barely audible breath remained.
A breeze slipped in through the gaps in the curtains, carrying the damp, musty smell unique to the swamp, but it couldn't dispel the oppressive heaviness in the shed. Lin Yan slowly sat down beside Su Qingyao, the movement causing sharp pains in his right arm wound, which he seemed oblivious to. His gaze fell on the girl's face, a face that was usually calm and composed, occasionally furrowing its brow as it studied formations or medicinal herbs, its eyes sparkling with focused attention, but now it was only a deathly pale. He remembered her calmly analyzing the situation in the cellar, her earnest teaching of formations under the old locust tree, the warmth of her fingertips when she handed him the medicinal porridge… The ancient mark on his chest seemed to throb with his emotions, a warm yet heavy pulse.
We can't delay any longer.
Lin Yan took a deep breath, bent down, and with his still-intact left hand, gently pried open Su Qingyao's chin. His fingertips touched her cool, delicate skin, and his movement paused slightly. Then, without further hesitation, he lowered his head, took a mouthful of medicine, and leaned down to gently transfer the bitter, cool liquid into her mouth.
The medicine was icy cold, and her lips were even colder, like frost in early winter. Lin Yan kept his eyes closed, but his mind was unusually clear. He mobilized a relatively gentle wisp of true energy within his body, mixed it with the medicine in her mouth, and slowly sent it in. The true energy, like fine silk threads, carefully guided the medicine down her stiff throat and into her parched meridians. He could clearly sense that the domineering, chilling energy of the spider venom, upon encountering this refreshing medicinal power, melted away rapidly, like snow being splashed with boiling water. The layer of black energy clinging to the outside of her heart meridian also began to loosen and fade.
One sip, then another. His movements were clumsy and awkward, yet he was unusually persistent. The wind howled outside the shed, and occasionally the rustling of unknown insects from the distant swamp made the silence inside the shed all the more palpable. The only sounds were the very faint gurgling of the medicine being poured in and Lin Yan's suppressed, painful breathing.
As the last drop of medicine was swallowed, Lin Yan slowly straightened up and gently wiped away the trace of green medicine residue remaining on Su Qingyao's lips with his sleeve. Her brows seemed to twitch very slightly, and her long eyelashes trembled like butterfly wings. Although she was not awake, her previously barely perceptible breathing seemed to have become slightly more steady, and the rise and fall of her chest had gained a slight strength.
Lin Yan let out a long breath, only then realizing the burning pain in his right arm wound and the exhaustion caused by forcibly mobilizing his true energy. He leaned against the cold pillar, closed his eyes to regulate his breathing for a moment, and waited for the dizziness to pass before getting up and gently placing the empty coconut shell aside.
"Come in," he said to the outside of the curtain, his voice regaining its usual calm.
Lu Ling and the others lifted the curtain and entered, their gazes first falling on Su Qingyao's face. Although her complexion was still pale, the terrifying black aura that had spread to her neck had subsided considerably, and her breathing had become more stable. They all breathed a sigh of relief. Zhao Si's eyes reddened, and he turned his head away, wiping his face roughly with his dirty sleeve.
"Break camp." Lin Yan gave the brief order without further ado. He personally and carefully lifted Su Qingyao and placed her on a makeshift stretcher hastily made of branches and old clothes by Wang Dachuan and another team member, his movements gentle as if handling fragile glass. Li Tie, supported by Lu Ling and Zhao Si, followed along, taking slow, deliberate steps.
As the morning mist dissipated and the sky grew dim, the wounded and dwindling group of eleven, carrying their last supplies and blood-stained weapons, silently departed from the swamp of decaying bones that had devoured so many of their comrades. Their steps were slow and sluggish, leaving tracks of varying depths in the mud, which were quickly covered by grass clippings and dust blown by the wind.
For the next two and a half days, the road stretched silently beneath their feet. The autumn wind grew stronger, whipping up yellow leaves and dust from the official road, stinging their faces. The group moved slowly. Su Qingyao, on the stretcher, drifted in and out of consciousness, occasionally uttering a few indistinct murmurs. After being fed some water and crushed grass root juice, she would fall into a deep sleep again. Li Tie could barely walk on his own, but each step was difficult, his forehead always covered with a layer of cold sweat. Lin Yan walked at the front, his right arm slinged across his chest, his left hand always resting on the hilt of his sword. His mid-stage Profound Realm spiritual sense spread out like an invisible net, filtering out any potential risks along the way. If he encountered a few low-level demons or highway robbers who didn't know what was going on, he didn't even need to draw his sword; a single, solid burst of true energy or a cold glare was enough to scare them away.
No one spoke. The days of fighting, the tragic deaths of their comrades, and the agony of severe injuries, like a rough millstone, had worn away the last trace of childishness and restlessness from everyone's faces, leaving only a heavy weariness and an almost numb resilience. When their eyes met, they merely nodded slightly, everything understood without words. However, when Lin Yan occasionally glanced back at the slender figure on the stretcher, a subtle, complex emotion, barely perceptible even to himself, would flicker deep in his eyes.
On the afternoon of the tenth day, the sun was setting, casting long, slanted shadows. The official road became wide and flat, crisscrossed with cart tracks, and the air was thick with the smell of dust, mixed with the distant noise of crowds and various other pungent odors.
"Look!" someone shouted in a hoarse voice, trembling with disbelief.
Everyone looked up. At the edge of the plain, where heaven and earth met, a colossal, bluish-gray shadow, like an ancient beast that had lain there since the dawn of time, silently stretched across their vision. The city walls towered high, probably well over twenty zhang (approximately 63 meters) tall. Huge bluestone blocks were stacked together seamlessly, their surfaces etched with varying depths of wind and rain over the years, gleaming with a cold, hard, and majestic luster in the setting sun. They were many times more imposing than the low earthen walls of Blackstone Town. Banners were faintly visible atop the walls, fluttering in the wind. Further away, layered eaves and houses stretched as far as the eye could see. That was Qingzhou Prefecture, a powerful town in the southeast of the Great Yin Dynasty, the center of a vortex where countless ambitions, wealth, opportunities, and dangers had converged for thousands of years.
The closer one gets, the denser the crowds on the official road become, like rivers flowing into the sea. Merchants carrying mountain goods, porcelain, and silk sway their loads, the carrying poles creaking and groaning; farmers driving donkeys, horses, and oxcarts shout and crack their whips; well-dressed travelers ride mules and horses, surrounded by servants; and even more numerous are the weary refugees with their families, women carrying crying, hungry children, and elderly people leaning on canes, panting with every step. All sorts of sounds—bargaining, shouts, animal neighing, children crying—merge into a buzzing, dizzying wave of noise, mixed with sweat, dust, animal dung, the aroma of food, and the lingering scent of perfume from somewhere, forming a vast, vibrant yet oppressive "human presence" that assaults the senses.
Lin Yan and his group were like a few murky drops of water, blending into the chaotic torrent, yet appearing utterly out of place. The twenty-two men, each dressed in tattered clothes, covered in dark brown mud and crimson scabs, clung stiffly to their bodies, as if they had just crawled out of a battlefield, their bodies still bearing the lingering aura of carnage. Their faces, hands, and necks were covered with a mix of old and new wounds, the simple bandages revealing a gruesome undertone. Their eyes held a quietude born of having witnessed too much death, a deep-seated wariness and chilling intent, like wounded lone wolves silently surveying unfamiliar territory. The weapons on their backs varied in style, their blades chipped, their spear tips rusted, yet all bearing the indelible stench of blood. This malevolent aura, almost tangible, emanating from the mountains of corpses and seas of blood, caused the surrounding crowd to subconsciously create a small distance between themselves. Various gazes—curiosity, fear, disgust, pity, indifference—pierced them like invisible needles.
Midway through the procession, Su Qingyao was subtly supported by two tall Black Stone Guards as she walked slowly. She wore an oversized indigo-blue coarse cloth men's suit, Lin Yan's old clothes, the cuffs and trouser legs carefully rolled up several times and tied tightly with strips of cloth. A worn-out felt hat, pulled low and with tattered edges, covered most of her face and her tied-up hair, revealing only her soft jawline and slightly pale lips. Her head was slightly lowered, her steps unsteady, making her look like an ordinary wounded soldier, barely able to stand, inconspicuous in the crowd. Only her eyes, occasionally raised from the shadow of the hat brim, were clear and calm, quickly scanning her surroundings before quickly lowering again, revealing no flaw.
Finally, they reached the city gate. The gate was deep and dark, large enough to accommodate several carriages side by side. The high arched ceiling cast heavy shadows, separating the inside from the outside into two worlds. The guards standing on both sides wore uniform brown leather armor, the copper studs gleaming coldly in the dim light. They carried standard steel swords at their waists and long spears with gleaming shafts. Their gazes swept across the crowd like brushes, carrying an official indifference and an imperceptible scrutiny, occasionally lingering for a moment on a carriage belonging to a seemingly wealthy merchant or a woman with her family.
When it was Lin Yan's turn, a guard captain, wearing a leather helmet askew, with sallow skin and triangular eyes that always looked upwards, swaggered over. He first glanced casually at Lin Yan's right arm in a sling and the blood-soaked cloth, a cruel smile curving his lips. Finally, his gaze swept over the group's tattered clothes, and he snorted softly, as if he had seen something utterly ridiculous and disgusting.
"Halt." He drew out the words, his voice high-pitched, carrying the slickness and arrogance ingrained in him from his official position. "Where are you from? What do you do?"
Lin Yan stepped forward, slightly shielding the stretcher and the people behind him from the shadows. He could feel Lu Ling's fingers unconsciously stroking the hilt of his knife, Wang Dashan's breathing suddenly becoming heavy, and Zhou Fu's shoulders tensing slightly. He gave the guard captain a reassuring look, meeting his critical gaze. "Belonging to the Demon Suppression Division of Black Stone Town, ordered to the Demon Suppression Division branch in Qingzhou Prefecture on official business." The voice was steady, not loud, but clearly pierced through the noisy echoes in the doorway.
"Blackstone Town? Demon Suppression Division?" Captain Wang Er raised his sparse eyebrows, his triangular eyes filled with undisguised mockery and suspicion. He strolled slowly around Lin Yan for half a circle, clicking his tongue twice. "Look at you guys? When did the officials of the Demon Suppression Division fall into such a sorry state? Blackstone Town? I've been eating the imperial salary in Qingzhou Prefecture for over a decade, and I've heard of at least eighty or a hundred villages and towns, but I've never heard of this damned Blackstone Town!" He suddenly raised his voice, as if speaking to those around him, "Could it be some remote mountain village that was long ago trampled flat by demons, and you're just escaped bandits trying to sneak into the city and fish in troubled waters?"
The guards behind him joined in the laughter, which echoed jarringly in the doorway. "Boss Wang has a sharp eye! I thought it was him!" "Look at those guys, all covered in dirt and wounds, what bad luck!" "They might even have criminal records!"
The surrounding people were also drawn to stop and watch, whispers mingling among them. Their gazes fell on Lin Yan and his group with a mixture of schadenfreude, sympathy, and a general sense of indifference and amusement.
Lin Yan's expression remained unchanged as he took out the dark wooden token from his robes. The edges of the token were worn smooth and warm from repeated use; the character "镇" (zhen, meaning "suppress") on the front was ancient and vigorous, while the characters "黑石" (hei shi, meaning "black stone") on the back were clearly written. He handed it over, saying, "The token is here; please examine it."
Wang Er didn't even bother to stretch his hand. He crossed his arms, glanced at the token, and sneered, "Token? These days, you can just carve a couple of words on a piece of rotten wood and dare to impersonate an official?" He changed the subject, his eyes gleaming like a hyena that had smelled money. "Even if you are real, entering the city... you still have to follow the rules of Qingzhou Prefecture."
"What rules?" Lin Yan's voice remained calm, without any hint of emotion.
"Hehe," Wang Er rubbed his fingers together, the practiced motion sending chills down one's spine. "You're all covered in wounds, filthy and disheveled. Who knows if you've caught some plague or demonic poison? If you bring this into the city and harm the people of Qingzhou Prefecture, who can bear the responsibility?" He held up two fingers and waved them in front of Lin Yan's eyes. "So, the 'quarantine fee' and 'comfort fee' are non-negotiable. Ten taels per person, and for you... one, two, three... twenty-two people, that's a round number, two hundred and twenty taels of snowflake silver. Once the money's here, the door opens, no questions asked."
Two hundred and twenty taels! This number, like a block of ice, crashed into everyone's hearts. Zhao Si gasped, his hand trembling, almost letting go of Li Tie's arm—he couldn't even earn five taels of silver a year chopping firewood in Blackstone Town. Lu Ling's face instantly darkened, his eyes blazing with anger. Wang Dashan's fists clenched so tightly they cracked, his chest heaving violently. Even the surrounding people gasped in surprise, shaking their heads, sighing, and whispering amongst themselves.
Lin Yan's fingertips felt slightly cold, the rough wood grain of the token digging into his palm. He had anticipated difficulties entering the city, but he hadn't expected such blatant extortion. Even the Demon Suppression Bureau's facade seemed as thin as a cicada's wing in their eyes. The towering city gates and imposing armor now appeared more like the first sharp tooth of a greedy maw.
"We are acting in the course of our official duties and are not required to pay such fees according to the law." Lin Yan's voice deepened, carrying a hint of coldness, like the morning frost of early winter. "With this token as proof, please allow us to pass according to the law."
"Law?" Wang Er glared as if he'd heard the biggest joke in the world. His triangular eyes widened, and spittle nearly landed on Lin Yan's face. "Here at the South Gate, my word is law!" He abruptly raised his hand, pointing to a patch of overgrown weeds outside the official road, littered with unknown skeletons and circling with crows, and shouted sternly, "Either you obediently pay up, or you can get the hell out of here and go back to your nobody's backyard! Qingzhou Prefecture doesn't welcome poor, unlucky, and unknown country bumpkins like you!"
"Get out of here!" the guards behind him shouted in unison, their spears slamming into the ground with a dull, rhythmic boom that sent dust flying from the doorway. A chilling aura, a mixture of alcohol, sweat, and the imposing presence of the yamen, swept over them.