Chapter 101

Though the room was modest, it was well-stocked with commonly-used medicinal herbs, and there were also a fair number of prepared wound medicines.

The madam of Tianxiang Tower had focused the lashings on Wuhuan's back and buttocks to preserve his life and beauty for profit. Most of the wounds were external. What was troublesome was his leg. The bones in his calf had been broken and improperly set by a quack, leaving many complications that prevented him from walking normally.

The world of cultivation offered a plethora of spiritual medicines and secret techniques, far surpassing what modern society could offer.

Song Qingshi combined the medical expertise of two worlds. After years of research, there wasn't an external injury he couldn't treat; he was the foremost physician in the cultivation realm.

Once he confirmed that Wuhuan had a wood-element spiritual root that was conducive to healing, he felt relieved. Opting for the simplest treatment, he swiftly cut away the blood-soaked clothing, washed the wounds, excised infected tissue, sutured the deeper cuts with sutures made of sheep intestine, applied crushed medicinal herbs, and finally, while Wuhuan was still unconscious, administered a localized anesthesia with golden needles and spiritual energy, swiftly breaking and resetting the improperly healed leg bone.

Wuhuan was jolted awake by the severe pain. Feeling uncomfortable all over and realizing his leg had been broken, he sank into despair. His eyes reddened; he knew he had gone from the frying pan into the fire. That heartless man broke his legs intentionally, confining him to this mountain as a plaything, making it impossible for him to escape.

He vowed to bring this brute down with him.

Wuhuan groped around him, seeking some hard object to use as a weapon, but found he had not the strength to wield anything.

Song Qingshi, breaking out in sweat from his labors, noticed Wuhuan had regained consciousness and hurriedly administered two more doses of anesthesia.

As night fell, he finally managed to tend to all of Wuhuan's injuries, wrapping him up tightly from head to toe. He dressed him in clean, old clothes and crafted a makeshift cane from a straight vine, smoothing down any sharp edges, and placed it beside his bed for later use.

Once free, Song Qingshi began to explore the issue of his own speech impairment. After several thorough checks, he confirmed that there were no issues with his vocal cords or throat. Other than malnutrition, this body had no hidden illnesses. After much thought, he concluded that the speech issue was psychological.

He had similar issues in his childhood, although not as severe, and they gradually improved as he grew up. Now, although he still sometimes felt nervous speaking to strangers and occasionally struggled to articulate himself, he had no issues with general communication.

Song Qingshi attempted to vocalize, trying several times to produce a sound, only to fail once again.

His frustrations grew as he found Mo Yuan Sword Master's spell configurations to be utterly unreasonable, neglecting medical theories and scientific logic to forcibly render him speech-impaired. This limited his actions and left him unable to articulate himself, a far cry from the admiration he once held for Mo Yuan Sword Master's deeds during his reading days.

Song Qingshi gave up on wrestling with illogical setups. He saw this as an extra question on a test—challenging, yes, but not insurmountable. Having spent years bedridden, he was not one to blame his misfortunes on others. Now that he could move, being mute was a small price to pay—especially compared to the time when he was bedridden with a degenerative condition.

Tomorrow, when Wuhuan wakes up, he'll assess his condition. If all is well, he plans to head to Tianxiang Tower to rescue Qu Yurong as well. Being the son of a wealthy family, Qu Yurong must be literate; Song Qingshi could write what he needs to say on a sand tray and have Qu Yurong communicate it to Wuhuan.

The thought immediately lifted Song Qingshi's spirits. He fired up the medicine furnace and cheerfully started brewing a herbal potion for Wuhuan.

　...

The next day, Wuhuan stirred awake on the bed. Every inch of him ached terribly, his legs seemed to be bound by something, leaving him immobile. It was unclear what kind of brutal treatment he'd endured the previous night.

Hearing the footsteps of the "beast" approaching, Wuhuan panicked and fumbled around, lifting and swinging a long stick he found near him at the direction of the sound.

Carrying a bowl of hot medicinal soup, Song Qingshi was unable to dodge and was stunned by the surprise attack.

Being only at the initial stages of Qi cultivation, he wasn't much stronger than a regular person and had no protective spiritual energy. His head swelled up in painful lumps as the tiny spectral flames flickered nearby, signaling the arrival of killing intent. He cautiously observed the outside and inside of the room, and then the furiously glaring Wuhuan. After a slow realization, he understood Wuhuan seemed to want to kill him. He quickly retreated, taking cover in a corner, wary of approaching this dangerously beautiful individual.

Wuhuan and Feng Jun looked and sounded alike, but their temperaments were slightly different...

Feng Jun had never hit him...

Song Qingshi felt a bit aggrieved, but he still believed Wuhuan was connected to Feng Jun in some way, and he couldn't bear to be mad at him.

He obediently sat in the corner, waiting for Wuhuan's anger to subside.

After waving his stick in the air a few times, Wuhuan finally relaxed, assured that the footsteps had retreated.

A long while later, Wuhuan gradually cooled down. He realized that his body was enveloped in a strong medicinal aroma, and he was tightly wrapped in bandages. He was dressed in clean clothes, and there was no pain in his lower body—no signs of being violated. Though inexperienced in such matters, he'd heard enough from his peers at Tianxiang Tower. Could it be that the lack of pain was due to his captor's small stature, or perhaps his incompetence?

With his blindness making his thoughts more sensitive than most, Wuhuan had never encountered a genuinely kind person in his life. He found it hard to believe that anyone would be altruistically good to him, much less any cultivators frequenting Tianxiang Tower!

He thoroughly examined his body for signs of abuse but found only traces of medication and treatment. His legs were immobilized by four wooden boards, likely to keep his bones in place. Confused, he couldn't help but ask, "What is this?"

Regretting his question, he realized it was futile to expect an answer from a mute.

Lowering his head, Wuhuan lapsed into contemplation.

After cautiously observing Wuhuan for a while, Song Qingshi finally gathered the courage to approach again, holding the medicinal soup carefully. He used a spoon to scoop up some of the broth, blew on it to cool it down, and brought it to his lips, signaling for him to drink.

"I don't like taking medicine; it's too bitter." Wu Huan smelled the scent of the herbal brew and quickly turned his head away. His heart raced with anxiety. The brothel owner often drugged the stubborn newcomers. He had heard stories of young men and women who, despite their resistance, were tricked into ingesting substances that left them weakened and sensitized, ultimately debasing themselves before their patrons, their dignity irretrievably lost.

Consequently, he had a deep-rooted fear of medication, so much so that he would refuse it even when severely injured.

Wu Huan stepped back, continuously rejecting the spoonfuls of herbal brew offered to his lips.

Song Qing Shi was relentless, chasing him and trying to feed him, all the while coaxing him with a melodic chatter. She aimed to place the spoon in his mouth, hoping he'd realize that the medicine was sweetened with honey and wasn't bitter.

Cornered, Wu Huan impulsively shoved, spilling the bowl. The medicine splashed onto Song Qing Shi, staining the bed. The bowl hit the floor, shattering into pieces.

Song Qing Shi stood frozen, spoon in hand.

Wu Huan sensed a shift in Song Qing Shi's mood, feeling a pang of regret. Something felt off, but he had already shown his aggressive side. How could he deceive her now? He gripped his stick tightly, opened his mouth as if to say something, but ultimately, words failed him.

Seizing the moment, Song Qing Shi swiftly spooned the medicine into his mouth.

Caught off guard, Wu Huan swallowed. The brew tasted sweet and slightly tart, not unpleasant at all. He then felt himself gently laid back onto the bed. The damp quilt was removed, and shortly after, he was covered with a new blanket that carried the warmth of sunlight.

After a while, he heard the sound of someone cleaning up the broken shards.

Unable to resist asking, Wu Huan inquired, "Are you mad at me? Knock once for 'yes,' and twice for 'no.'"

Song Qing Shi immediately knocked twice on the bed frame. Although the patient was uncooperative, she understood that someone blind and frequently mistreated would naturally lack a sense of security and would be prone to irritability.

After some thought, Wu Huan asked, "Is it you who made my legs go numb?"

Song Qing Shi knocked once but hesitated, thinking better of it. She adjusted the needles in his legs, alleviating some of the numbness. With a small stick, they communicated through a series of yes-or-no questions until Wu Huan finally understood the nature of his leg injury.

Treading carefully, Wu Huan asked, "So, you're treating me and haven't done anything indecent?"

Song Qing Shi nodded frantically and knocked forcefully on the bed frame, affirming that he was spot-on. Then she brought another bowl of medicine, teaching him the character for 'medicine' by tracing it on his palm, attempting to establish basic communication.

Wu Huan, who had never been exposed to written language, pondered for a while. Finally, after repeated failures, he guessed, "Medicine?"

Overjoyed, Song Qing Shi rapped on the bed frame.

Wu Huan extended his finger, tracing imaginary characters in the air, filled with a joy he couldn't express. He often longed to hear books read aloud, sometimes entertaining plays, sometimes beautiful poems. He had always wondered what the characters in those books looked like. How he wished he could read!

But everyone laughed at his folly, calling this blind man's dream a delusion.

"Medicine," he wrote again and again, "So this is what characters look like." After a while, he lowered his hand and gave a rueful smile. "What's the use of knowing this? I still can't read books."

Song Qing Shi pondered for a moment, took a wooden plank, and delicately carved the character for "medicine" onto it. He placed it into Wu Huan's hand, guiding his fingers over the etched strokes as if to say, "Read."

Until he could refine the "Mystical Sky Illuminating Elixir," he decided to teach Wu Huan to read through tactile writing. He'd have a carpenter carve books on wooden slats. Though Braille wasn't common in the cultivation world, Wu Huan seemed so clever that he should be able to learn standard writing, ensuring he wouldn't be illiterate even if his sight were restored.

Song Qing Shi was extremely pleased with his idea.

Wu Huan touched the carved characters on the wooden plank for a long time, thrilled. Then he looked up at the blurry figure before him, suddenly curious about what this person might look like. After a long pause, he tentatively extended a hand, gently touching Song Qing Shi. Encouraged by the lack of resistance, he then moved his hands to Song Qing Shi's face, then down his body, exploring and feeling carefully.

Prejudice and fear had clouded his judgment, preventing him from discerning the truth.

Now, he finally realized that the person before him was just a frail young boy, likely no more than twelve or thirteen years old, his body still undeveloped. This person could not possibly have any ulterior motives towards him...

Wu Huan abruptly withdrew his hand, unable to face his own foolishness.

The young boy had summoned the courage to rescue him from hell, offering tenderness in return.

And what had he done?

Schemed, insulted, assaulted, darkly speculated, even contemplated killing his benefactor...

"I—I'm sorry," Wu Huan stammered, filled with regret so deep it penetrated his bones. "It's my fault. I..." He didn't know how to make amends for his grievous errors. "You can ask me to do anything."

Without hesitation, Song Qing Shi lifted the bowl of medicine, once again bringing the spoon to Wu Huan's lips, signaling his desire for him to take the medication.

Wu Huan hesitated for a moment, and then finally opened his mouth, choosing to accept this act of kindness...

　...

By evening, Song Qing Shi was rushing toward Tianxiang Tower.

After administering the morning medication, he had eagerly taught Wu Huan a few more characters. But Wu Huan was not only clever but also quick to learn. He could remember any character after having it written on his palm just once or twice. In his enthusiasm to teach, Song Qing Shi had even skipped meals, resorting to Sustaining Elixirs, and had forgotten something critical.

He needed to hurry and rescue Qu Yurong, or the mission would fail.

Upon returning to Tianxiang Tower, Song Qing Shi found it in chaos. They seemed to be searching for someone. He initially thought it was Wu Huan, but upon listening carefully, it didn't seem so...

The madam was sobbing uncontrollably. "My Yurong! Which damned soul kidnapped my cash cow?!"

The stewards and courtesans were attempting to console her. Apparently, during the chaos caused by a fire, Qu Yurong was abducted by Fu Donglai, a demonic rogue in the original story. A minor cultivator and one of Qu Yurong's lovers, he specialized in sleight of hand and disappearing acts. Now, he had taken Qu Yurong and vanished to enjoy life somewhere unknown.

This part of the plot wasn't in the original work...

Song Qing Shi stood perched on a wall, flabbergasted. He had lost the subject of his mission. What would become of his examination?