The Request of the Apothecary

"Brother… I've now completely surpassed you," Yang Lei said, his lips curling slightly, a look of pride in his eyes as he stared at the elder sibling who had kept him underfoot for more than a decade.

At this moment, an indescribable sense of achievement and superiority surged through him, filling his heart with a vanity he had never before known. For the first time, he felt the sweetness of triumph.

Yang Fan, however, remained silent, his calm eyes meeting his younger brother's gaze without flinching. Yet there was no sadness in his expression, nor a trace of disappointment—only a serene composure that seemed unshaken.

"Brother, ever since you lost your cultivation, you've abandoned your former courage and passion. You act as if nothing matters to you anymore. This excessive calm is your greatest flaw now." Yang Lei's gaze held a hint of condescension as he spoke.

"Yes, you've surpassed me, little brother," Yang Fan replied softly, lifting his head. His gaze seemed to pierce through the very walls of the room, stretching beyond the clouds, seeing far into the distant realms of time and space.

Within that tranquil, unwavering gaze, there flickered a hint of pity, and perhaps, a touch of sadness. *If only he knew…* Yang Fan thought to himself. *If he knew that I am no longer merely a Qi Condensation cultivator but have nearly reached the Great Perfection stage, and that I now practice an ancient and formidable demonic art, how would he feel then?*

Yang Lei, catching the fleeting and inscrutable look in his brother's eyes, felt his sense of accomplishment falter, just for a moment.

"Brother, I came to Misty Willow Town today for another reason," Yang Lei said, regaining his composure.

"Speak," Yang Fan replied, his voice as calm as ever.

"I hope you will return to Yang Fortress and serve the family again," Yang Lei said, a hint of expectation in his voice.

"That's impossible. Why should I serve the family again? What reason could you possibly give me that would convince me?" Yang Fan sneered.

"My reason is… that the future of Yang Fortress belongs to us," Yang Lei said, his eyes flashing with a strange light, like a comet streaking through the night sky.

"You're wrong. Even if that were true, the future of Yang Fortress would only belong to you. I have no interest in such matters. My only ambition is to pursue the Dao and seek immortality."

"Immortality?" Yang Lei scoffed. "Do you honestly believe you still have a chance, Brother? In all of the vast East Victory Continent, with its countless living beings—be they human or demon—has anyone in the last ten thousand years ever truly attained immortality?"

Indeed, the notion of immortality, of ascending to the heavens and achieving eternal life, seemed little more than an unreachable dream. Even in the entire Yu Yang Kingdom, high-level cultivators were exceedingly rare. Immortality was but a distant legend.

"We walk different paths and cannot follow the same road," Yang Fan said after a moment's hesitation, his voice heavy. He stood, waving his hand dismissively. "I won't contest the things our father left behind. Do as you will."

His words, subtle yet firm, were a clear dismissal. 

"Very well, then!" Yang Lei's eyes flashed cold, and he spat out three "very wells" in succession before abruptly turning on his heel and leaving the Apothecary of Compassion, as though utterly disappointed in his elder brother.

…

After his brother's departure, Yang Fan unfolded the white handkerchief once more, studying the delicate, elegant script upon it:

*"Lingxi Jade Pendant, a gift for my son Yang Fan."*

Signed: *Liu Mengyan*

"Lingxi Jade Pendant?" Yang Fan muttered, his fingers lightly brushing the smooth, jade surface. The pendant was translucent and lustrous, but apart from its unusual texture, there seemed to be nothing remarkable about it.

"Where did Father go? Why did he leave behind a treasure site for me, and what mission does he want me to complete?" A look of deep thought appeared on Yang Fan's face. He had the distinct feeling that his brother had not told him everything.

Several months ago, members of the Yang family from the capital had arrived, and his master, Liu Wuhen, had vanished without a trace. The strange and puzzling circumstances left Yang Fan more confused than ever.

"Why would Master leave so suddenly and never return? Given his bond with Father, would he really abandon us, leaving us to fend for ourselves?" A suspicion crept into Yang Fan's mind: *Perhaps Master and Father had not truly disappeared. Maybe they simply did not want to meet with me. It's even possible they are secretly protecting us, watching over me and my brother from the shadows.*

Three days later, an elderly man in simple clothing, carrying a medicine basket on his back, arrived at the Apothecary of Compassion in Misty Willow Town.

"Pharmacist Yang, it's been three months since we last met. Your apothecary seems to be doing well; its reputation has spread even among the local cultivators." The old man, known as Pharmacist Zheng, smiled warmly as he entered.

"Thanks to you, Pharmacist Zheng, the apothecary's business has been running smoothly," Yang Fan replied with a smile.

In the course of their conversation, Pharmacist Zheng revealed that in six months, he intended to resign from his guest position at Yang Fortress and retire from the world of cultivation, returning to the secular world to enjoy his twilight years with his family.

"You're giving up on pursuing immortality, even after all these years?" Yang Fan asked, somewhat surprised.

Pharmacist Zheng's face darkened, and with a bitter smile, he replied, "Immortality? How laughable. I've cultivated for over sixty years and have yet to even pass the Spirit Condensation stage, let alone the elusive goal of eternal life. No, I just want to live out my remaining years in peace, perhaps hold my grandchildren…" His voice trailed off, the weight of his unfulfilled dreams hanging heavy in the air.

Yang Fan felt a pang of sympathy. The path of cultivation was indeed perilous and arduous. Few ever reached its end. By choosing to retire, Pharmacist Zheng had, in effect, severed his connection to the path of immortality.

"I see great potential in you, Pharmacist Yang," Zheng said, his tone growing serious. "You have talent, guidance from esteemed teachers, and the favor of fortune. Perhaps, in time, you may become one of those rare high-level cultivators. I have a request to make of you."

"Please, speak your mind," Yang Fan replied, intrigued by the old man's sudden gravity. *Why would he have a favor to ask when he's already decided to leave the cultivation world behind?* he wondered.

"I have a granddaughter," Zheng began, his eyes softening as he spoke of her. "She's sixteen, has some talent for cultivation, and has been studying herbal medicine under me for the past three years. She's already reached the early Qi Condensation stage. My request is this: would you take her under your wing, perhaps even accept her as a disciple? If you agree, I would reward you with a rare item of great value."

"A disciple?" Yang Fan raised an eyebrow. "If your granddaughter has talent, why not send her to Yang Fortress or another sect to pursue cultivation? Why ask me to teach her medicine?"

Zheng sighed heavily. "I've spent most of my life immersed in medicine, and I wish for one of my descendants to carry on my legacy. If she can learn from you, not only will she gain medical knowledge, but she'll also be able to secure the prosperity of the Zheng family in the secular world for generations to come."

"There are many skilled physicians in the cultivation world. Why choose me?" Yang Fan asked, still uncertain of Zheng's motives.

"I've been a physician for many years, and I've developed a talent for reading people. You, Yang Fan, are the most extraordinary individual I've encountered. I believe you have the potential to become a high-level cultivator, a rarity in this world. If my granddaughter can become your disciple, it would be a blessing for our family."

"A high-level cultivator?" Yang Fan mused, casting a curious glance at Zheng. He found it difficult to believe such a prediction.

Zheng might have discerned his talents in medicine, but to claim he had the potential to reach the ranks of high-level cultivators seemed far-fetched. *Perhaps the old man is simply hoping to secure a future for his family by having his granddaughter learn my medical skills,* Yang Fan thought to himself.