Chapter 135: Leng Wanqiu in the Oil Cauldron

Song Mo and Xia Rou had already finished eating.

But Dushima Yingxue had not eaten yet.

So Song Mo reheated the leftover food from that afternoon and called out to Dushima Yingxue to come eat.

His action was not gentlemanly.

"Yingxue, these are the leftovers from this afternoon—I reheated them. I assume you won't mind?"

After all, Dushima Yingxue was his disciple, not a guest.

Song Mo felt that treating her casually, like he treated Bruce, was his way of accepting her.

But he didn't know whether this daughter of the Yinghuaguo's top noble family

could accept eating leftovers.

But whether she could accept it or not—what did it have to do with Song Mo?

She came to him to learn Martial Dao; isn't having meals provided enough? What more does she want?

He took on a disciple, not a revered ancestor!

Besides, this was also a small test from Song Mo…

As expected, Dushima Yingxue was clearly not a spoilt child.

She quickly finished the meal and sincerely praised the food's deliciousness after learning it was made by Song Mo himself that afternoon.

She couldn't help exclaiming:

"Master, you're truly incredible!"

"Is there anything you can't do?"

"Music, Martial Dao… even cooking tastes this good!"

She ate quite a bit, which pleased Song Mo.

Song Mo nodded slightly.

He smiled: "Yingxue, this was also a test for you. You're the daughter of a Yinghuaguo noble, yet you're not spoilt—you can eat leftovers."

"That's good."

"Training in Martial Dao is the same: poor conditions are never an excuse to quit or slack off."

"The ancients said: train in the coldest three nine days, train in the hottest three fu days."

"Only by enduring hardship can you grow through it—not be bound by it."

Dushima Yingxue listened with earnest submission.

She stood up, her body rigidly straight.

She declared loudly:

"I understand, Master!"

"Yingxue will never disappoint your expectations!"

Song Mo nodded in satisfaction. Dushima Yingxue was decent—unlike Bruce, that silent fool, who just sat there listening to everything he said without uttering a word.

Only when he explained the subtleties of Martial Dao did he bombard him with questions—no sense of propriety at all!

Xia Rou rolled her eyes.

Seeing how pleased Song Mo looked, she figured this female disciple suited his taste perfectly.

Hmph!

Dushima Yingxue constantly watched Xia Rou.

Seeing Xia Rou unhappy, she immediately said:

"Yingxue will study Martial Dao diligently with Master!"

"And learn from your virtues, Mistress!"

This left Xia Rou flustered.

"Oh come on, why are you dragging me into this?"

"I don't have any virtues…"

Xia Yu sighed and rubbed her forehead.

Oh, this foolish little sister of mine!

The Song Family was large, and Dushima Yingxue had not yet been assigned lodging.

So Song Mo ordered someone to clean and prepare a guest room for Dushima Yingxue to stay in.

…

Beneath the pitch-black night sky.

A tiny "ant" dragged a massive "grain of rice" slowly across the yellow earth…

A thin old man carried two hundred jin of Leng Wanqiu on his back.

He walked several kilometers along mountain paths.

He returned to his thatched cottage.

He laid Leng Wanqiu down on the straw.

He seemed to feel the fatigue.

He sat on the ground, picked up his tobacco pipe, and smoked hard—drawing in several deep, heavy puffs of dry tobacco until the smoke cleared and the exhaustion eased.

He slightly dispelled the weariness.

He quickly stood up again.

He looked at Leng Wanqiu lying on the straw.

In the old man's bright eyes, a spark of interest flickered.

"What a rare case!"

"In my whole life, I've truly never seen this kind of strange illness…"

"Heh heh, if this woman doesn't get saved by me today, she's going to die on the spot. Right now her face is already turning blue-green, and her body is covered in a layer of greasy cold sweat."

"She only has four hours left to live…"

"Finally I get to indulge myself to my heart's content!"

"If she gets tossed around and lives, then it means this woman wasn't meant to die — lucky her, running into me, the Monkey King who snatches people back from King Yama's hands!"

"If she gets tossed around and dies, heh, she won't have lost out either. I'll record it in my medical book — counts as documenting an unsuccessful prescription. Later I can improve on it, and that's also a contribution to the development of Chinese medicine…"

Time was running out.

The old man stood up from the ground, looked at Leng Wanqiu with her pale lips and blue-green face, and quickly walked into the thatched hut.

He took out several dozen medicinal ingredients.

All sorts of strange things — even cockroach corpses, bat droppings, arsenic…

A complete mess; you couldn't tell at all whether he was trying to save someone or kill them.

There was no time to simmer slowly over a gentle flame.

The old man directly piled on firewood with all his might.

The flames whooshed up in an instant.

The old man poured half a bucket of cold water straight in, then began to decoct it, adding the medicinal ingredients one by one in order and according to the timing.

Even though he was using a fierce fire, it wasn't the case that just throwing on firewood and making the flames bigger would properly decoct the medicine.

Using a fierce fire tested the control of the heat even more!

Fine beads of sweat began to break out on the old man's face.

The yellowed short shirt on his body was quickly soaked through with sweat.

Hard work always pays off.

After the old man finished decocting the medicine, he let it cool, then ladled it out into a big bowl and poured it straight into Leng Wanqiu's mouth.

Then he brought over a thick cotton blanket and covered Leng Wanqiu's entire body with it.

After doing all this, the old man took a puff of his dry tobacco and walked into the house.

……

Hot—

So hot.

Leng Wanqiu felt as if she had been thrown into a steamer; her body burned as if it were about to cook.

Her stomach was scalding.

It was as if she had drunk lava — churning seas inside her stomach, radiating heat to every part of her body.

Beads of sweat as big as soybeans kept pouring out, drenching her entire body.

In her dream, Leng Wanqiu dreamed that she had suddenly been thrown into the eighteenth layer of hell, about to undergo the torture of being deep-fried in a cauldron of oil.

The rising steam from the oil cauldron billowed upward, making her sweat hotly without stop.

She looked around in terror.

The result was that she saw a familiar figure being scorched by flames without pause.

"Dad!"

Leng Wanqiu blurted out.

That figure turned its head.

A gaze full of resentment looked at her — never again the affection of days past.

"Don't call me Dad!"

"I don't have a wretched daughter like you!"

"It's you who killed me and your mother! It was you!"

"Ah!"

The next round of scorching began.

A shrill, bloodcurdling scream rang out, constantly stabbing at Leng Wanqiu's eardrums; the fear deep in her heart was beyond words.

"No!"

Leng Wanqiu's tears streamed down her face; she wanted to stop all of this from happening, but the next instant, her own body was lifted up.

Leng Wanqiu couldn't see what was lifting her, but she could see the oil cauldron drawing closer and closer.

The scalding oil cauldron kept bubbling with hot bubbles.

The next moment, the world spun!

She was thrown into the oil cauldron!

"Ah!"

With a startled scream, Leng Wanqiu woke up.

(End of this chapter)