Chapter 12: Too Delicious (Special Bonus for Patron Nyaiko)

He Haiqin despised foreigners, just as He Jiaqing despised international students at school—in this regard, father and son were astonishingly alike.

He Yuxiu gripped He Haiqin’s hand and said, “Brother, listen to your sister: this physician truly has skill—he was sent by Xiao Zheng. Let him try.”

“Get out!” He Haiqin shoved his sister away.

He Yuxiu turned to Yan Yulin: “Sister-in-law, say something!”

Yan Yulin took a deep breath, gathered her courage, and said, “Master, I’ve obeyed you in everything my whole life—this one time, I’m making the decision myself. Sister, bring the physician in!”

He Yuxiu rose to fetch the physician; He Haiqin was furious but powerless to stop her.

Soon, the physician Cui Ti came to the window—blond-haired, blue-eyed, with a high nose bridge. Seeing He Haiqin’s full-body pustules, Cui Ti was startled.

Yan Yulin quickly explained: “Doctor, don’t be afraid—these pustules aren’t contagious. We’ve cared for him for two years, and no one here has caught it.”

“Fuck you, dead foreign devil!” He Haiqin glared at Cui Ti, then turned to Yan Yulin: “Why are you saying all this nonsense? Can this dead foreign devil even understand?”

“I understand!” Cui Ti replied, his pronunciation precise and clear. “Not all foreign devils are bad. I’m a good foreign devil. I love Pulu Province.”

He Haiqin forced a bitter smile: “You’re quite the talker.”

“It’s not just talk,” Cui Ti unbuttoned his shirt, revealing a hairy chest with five large tattoos: I LOVE PULU PROVINCE.

Yan Yulin covered her eyes.

He Yuxiu said beside him: “Look, look! He’s sincere—he’s tattooed it right on his heart!”

He Haiqin turned his head away, refusing to look at Cui Ti: “My home has none of your foreign equipment. Leave.”

Cui Ti shook his head and smiled: “Respected Master, don’t worry—I don’t need foreign equipment.”

“I’m a Medicinal Cultivator. I use ancient Pulu medical techniques. Let me examine your pulse first.”

Cui Ti carefully took He Haiqin’s pulse. He Haiqin gritted his teeth, refusing to look at him even once.

Minutes later, Cui Ti seemed to have formed a diagnosis. He opened his bag, pulled out a silver needle, sterilized it over a candle flame, and gently pierced one of He Haiqin’s pustules.

Thick green fluid oozed out. Cui Ti dipped his finger in it, brought it to his nose, and sniffed.

Then he licked the fluid off his finger, tasting its flavor.

Yan Yulin had just insisted the pustules weren’t contagious.

Even so, seeing Cui Ti put the fluid in his mouth, she couldn’t help vomiting.

Not just her—the pustule’s owner, He Haiqin, wanted to vomit too.

He Yuxiu had stronger nerves. Her cheeks twitched briefly, then she said to He Haiqin: “Brother, look how dedicated Dr. Cui is—he swallowed it himself, and now he’s still savoring the taste in his mouth!”

“Ughhh~” He Haiqin vomited.

Food Cultivators must not vomit lightly—it’s a grave disrespect to food.

But He Haiqin simply couldn’t hold it in.

Cui Ti’s tongue still moved, meticulously savoring the pustule’s flavor.

Minutes later, Cui Ti nodded: “I think I know the origin of this illness.”

He Yuxiu froze: “Tell me.”

Cui Ti said: “This illness shouldn’t exist in this world—it was created by someone.”

Hearing this, He Haiqin turned his face toward Cui Ti, astonished: “Do you know who did this to me?”

He had always suspected the Lu family had plotted against him.

He Yuxiu’s eyes widened: “Is it those Lu bastards?!”

Cui Ti shook his head: “I don’t know who. But I can find a cure. Respected Master, give me a private room—I’ll prepare your medicine.”

He Haiqin frowned slightly—he didn’t trust unknown medicines.

Cui Ti knew his concern: “Respected Master, rest assured. I’ll stay in your mansion until you’re fully healed. If anything goes wrong, you may kill me at any time.”

He Haiqin glanced at Yan Yulin. She gave the steward a signal and arranged a separate room for Cui Ti.

Less than half an hour later, Cui Ti stepped out holding a test tube filled with white powder.

“Respected Master, swallow this medicine. Your illness will heal quickly.”

He Haiqin stared at the white powder, his cheeks twitching.

He didn’t want to take it—he didn’t trust foreigners.

But his condition was so dire, even without medicine, he wouldn’t last hours.

Yan Yulin took the test tube. He Haiqin hesitated, then nodded.

Yan Yulin fed the powder into He Haiqin’s mouth.

He Haiqin’s throat was full of pustules—he had severe difficulty swallowing, which was why he couldn’t eat.

Oddly, this time, without water, the dry powder somehow slid down.

Cui Ti stood respectfully beside the bed, showing he wouldn’t leave.

After about an hour, the once-weak He Haiqin slowly sat up on the bed.

He was sweating profusely; his pustule-covered skin showed faint color.

Yan Yulin’s face lit up with joy.

He Yuxiu praised endlessly: “Brother, look how powerful Dr. Cui is—one dose, and he’s already recovering!”

Cui Ti smiled gently: “Respected Master, do you believe me now?”

He Haiqin snorted: “Foreign devil medicine always treats symptoms, never the root!”

Cui Ti shook his head: “I’ll stay in your mansion until you’re fully healed.”

He Haiqin glanced at Cui Ti: “How much did Xiao Zheng pay you?”

Cui Ti spread his hands: “I can’t tell you. It’s my code of conduct. Master Xiao said I must cure you—he said money is no issue.”

He Haiqin frowned: “Just tell me the amount—don’t beat around the bush!”

Cui Ti sighed helplessly: “Master Xiao gave me ten thousand silver dollars.”

He Haiqin nodded to the steward: “Give him ten thousand silver dollars. Let him rest in the guest quarters.”

Cui Ti shook his head: “You don’t need to pay me—Master Xiao already…”

“This is my gift to you! Go!” He Haiqin admired Cui Ti’s skill, but it changed nothing—he still despised foreigners.

After Cui Ti left, He Haiqin told his wife: “Yulin, bring paper and ink—I’m writing my will.”

“Master, what are you doing?!” Yan Yulin wanted to clamp his mouth shut. “You’re already better—why say such bad luck?”

“I don’t trust that foreign devil. This might be a deathbed revival. Bring paper and ink now. I’ll dictate, you write. Sister, witness this.”

He Haiqin was stubborn; no one dared oppose him. Paper and ink were prepared. His first instruction was to entrust the He family to He Jiaqing.

He Yuxiu said beside him: “Brother, let me remind you—Jiaqing is still lying there. Whether he wakes up is uncertain.”

He Haiqin shook his head: “I heard from the third brother—he’s not seriously ill.”

He Yuxiu snorted: “You trust the third brother? Do you know what he’s really planning?

If you and Jiaqing die, my sister-in-law and I won’t be able to stand against him. The He family will fall into his hands. Jiaqing’s condition? He might have caused it!”

“Sister, you, you, you…” He Haiqin suddenly began gasping violently; pustules across his body burst open.

Yan Yulin rushed to support him.

“Haiqin, I was just speaking nonsense—don’t scare me!” He Yuxiu turned to fetch Cui Ti, but He Haiqin called her back.

“Sister, I’m hungry. Bring me something to eat…”

Hungry?

He Haiqin was hungry!

If a Food Cultivator can eat, he has survived the tribulation.

He Yuxiu was overjoyed: “Dr. Cui is incredible! One dose, and he’s recovered!”

Medicine?

Did it work?

No, not at all!

Those white powder grains were no different from dirt on the ground!

In the guest room, Cui Ti stared into a mirror and extended his tongue.

On his tongue was a pea-sized green pustule.

He Haiqin wasn’t cured by medicine—Cui Ti had transferred all the disease foci onto himself.

From the moment he first licked the pustule fluid, the disease had entered him.

From then on, He Haiqin began healing—that’s why he could swallow the powder.

Cui Ti isn’t a Medicinal Cultivator—he’s one of the rarest cultivators in the world: a Disease Cultivator!

He stared at his tongue, smiling.

What a perfect pustule!

Who created this?

It seems others still live in my Dao sect.

I must find him,

and kill him!

“Hehehehehe!” Cui Ti let out a chilling laugh.

Cough cough cough~

He laughed too hard—the pustule on his tongue burst.

Thick green fluid choked him into a coughing fit.

After coughing, he licked his lips.

With a slurp, he swallowed all the juice and let out a sincere exclamation:

“So delicious!”

…

Prozhou, Kudai Kan, out in the wilderness.

Train 1160 was still stopped.

Loud quarrels and fights occasionally echoed outside the carriage.

Li Banfeng opened his backpack and carefully counted the remaining food.

PS: Once again, thank you to our patron Naiyazi, and to all readers—have a pleasant weekend.

(End of chapter)