Chapter 6: Medicine King Sect Envoys
As Shui Hong Yao departed, profound changes stirred within Wei Yun's body.
After Shui Hong Yao had wildly drained the primal yang essence from Wei Yun's body, she assumed he was done for—and even Wei Yun himself believed he was beyond saving. Once she left, his body lost all sensation; he couldn't move a muscle. Yet his mind remained clear and alert.
At that moment, a warm current surged simultaneously from nine key points on his body—his head, chest, abdomen, buttocks, penis, hands, and feet—spreading through him entirely. It replenished the primal yang qi that had been utterly sucked dry, though the process took time. During it, his body lay as still as death itself, utterly immobile.
Sensing this, the Purple Moon jade pendant at his chest activated at once, erupting in a blinding glow. A beam of purple light shot from it, straight into Wei Yun's brow.
As the purple light pierced his brow, Wei Yun's mind boomed like thunder. Listening closely, he realized it was a profound voice reciting a cultivation mantra. He committed it to memory, then followed its instructions: with a thought, he connected his mind to the heavens and earth.
By now, night had fallen. A bright moon hung high, its silvery essence cascading down, bathing the hundred acres around Xuan Hu Guan in light. The surrounding grass and trees shimmered with faint fluorescence.
Unbeknownst to him, Wei Yun's primal yang fully restored itself, and he could finally move.
Leaping to his feet, Wei Yun faced the full moon as the mantra directed. He breathed steadily and long, visualizing himself merging with the moon. Gradually, strands of lunar radiance draped over him, soon cloaking him in a layer of pale purple glow. He drew it into his mouth.
The moonlight was cool and refreshing. The instant it entered, it fused with his freshly restored primal yang, forming a strand of pure innate true qi!
Wei Yun quickly withdrew from the meditation, standing stunned as he pondered deeply. His heart shook with realization—he finally understood the truth.
His physique had some anomaly: it skewed heavily toward yang attributes, lacking any yin. Pure yang alone couldn't grow without balance, and without a complementary pure yin technique, no true qi could form, no matter how he cultivated.
To resolve this, there were two paths. First: dual cultivation with a woman of sufficient cultivation, absorbing her primal yin to achieve yin-yang harmony. Second: cultivate a pure yin technique to foster balance and refine true qi.
Supreme techniques fell into two categories: those balancing yin and yang, or pure yin/pure yang extremes. Both were exceedingly rare, monopolized by the greatest sects.
The Nourishing Qi Formula Wei Yun practiced was far too mediocre to meet the need.
Shui Hong Yao's Sun-Devouring Great Law was a pure yang technique, cultivating solar true qi. Perilously aggressive, it wouldn't aid him—instead, it would doom him, piling peril upon peril.
Unaware of his unique physique, Shui Hong Yao assumed his diligence in cultivation had filled him with abundant primal yang. Her goal was simply to fatten him up for a richer harvest later.
Yet in tricking him, nearly killing him, Shui Hong Yao had unwittingly triggered every last drop of spiritual power in the Purple Moon jade pendant.
Hidden within was a technique for cultivating lunar true qi. It wouldn't have activated under normal circumstances—the original owner had left it merely for warding evil and protection, never intending him for the path of cultivation.
But Wei Yun's father had sent him to Xuan Hu Guan, and he'd endured a brush with death, awakening the pendant's full power—including the embedded technique.
With this lunar true qi now nourishing him, yin and yang blended, birthing innate true qi. From here on, Wei Yun could advance through his own efforts, even without harvesting women's primal yin.
He touched the now-powerless jade pendant; its luster remained warm and smooth.
That venomous woman's technique is domineering—must be top-tier, he mused. For a normal person, pairing the Sun-Devouring Great Law with the pendant's lunar method would complement perfectly, yielding swift progress.
But for now, lunar true qi suffices. I can add solar true qi later, once imbalance threatens.
With that, Wei Yun resumed moon-gazing meditation...
The following days, Wei Yun swept the temple, greeted pilgrims, and focused on inner refinement.
On the fifth day at noon, footsteps echoed outside. Wei Yun rushed out to see Qing Feng Dao Zhang returning with his disciples.
The old Daoist had barely survived demon-exorcism in Feng Wu City. After twists and turns, he'd slain the fiend—but his hair had whitened, his face aged, and his steps faltered.
Wei Yun noted Eldest Senior Brother Zhang Zhi Ping missing an arm; the others bore wounds, looking ragged.
He hurried to welcome them into the hall, offering healing salves. "Master, was the trip smooth?"
Qing Feng sighed, waving it off. "We grew careless. Thought it mere rat demon mischief—who knew five fox demons ambushed us mid-way, all at least Golden Core realm. We escaped nine deaths by a hair, exhausting arrays and talismans to wound one. If not for the city lord's timely arrival scaring them off, none would have returned."
Wei Yun paled, touching Zhang Zhi Ping's empty left sleeve. "Senior Brother, you..."
Zhang Zhi Ping smiled faintly, a touch of pathos in it. "Little Junior Brother, I'm fine. How's the temple these days?"
"Nothing much," Wei Yun replied. "Just that a couple days ago, Master's wife left on urgent business—hasn't returned. Quite worrying."
He covered for Shui Hong Yao's departure with a white lie, sparing the truth.
Qing Feng's face shifted. "Did she say where?"
Wei Yun shook his head. "No, Master."
Qing Feng's expression grew grave. He sighed. "Troubles never come alone! Demons ravage everywhere—nowhere safe outside. Alas!"
Your venomous wife outclasses you by miles—no need for your worry, Wei Yun thought.
Qing Feng eyed Wei Yun, eyes lighting up. "Little Twelfth, you carry a sharp aura now. Made progress?"
"Not sure why," Wei Yun said, "but with spring's vital energy, true qi suddenly surged, opening most meridians. I've reached mid-Foundation Establishment."
He understated it—progress had been meteoric, nearing Foundation Establishment perfection. The pendant's technique was tailor-made for him.
"What?!" Qing Feng beamed, overjoyed. The seniors shared his delight—a bright spot amid gloom.
Third Senior Sister Mo Xiu Yun pursed her lips, cheeks flushing as if recalling something.
That night, lamplight flickered in the meditation hut.
As Wei Yun sat in quiet cultivation, a knock sounded. A crisp female voice called, "Junior Brother, asleep yet?"
Recognizing Mo Xiu Yun, he opened the door. She stood flushed, clutching a pink item in her mouth? No—clamped between her teeth. She thrust it into his hands. "Junior Brother, as promised."
She fled without another word.
Wei Yun grasped the warm object: a pink bellyband, still steamy! His nostrils flared; stimulating.
He recalled her earlier promise: true qi formed, and she'd give it. He'd half-forgotten; she hadn't.
Sniffing Mo Xiu Yun's bellyband, a faint body scent intoxicated him.
Lying in bed, he pondered: Should I gift this to Second Senior Brother...?
Two days later, distinguished guests arrived at Xuan Hu Guan.
All turned out to greet them.
A massive yellow gourd flew in mid-air—a flying artifact with three curved ridges. Two green-robed youths sat atop it.
It landed at the gate; the men leaped down.
The right one, about thirty, dark-faced and arrogant, hand on his waist sword, barked: "Where are Xuan Hu Guan's disciples?"
Qing Feng led them forward. "This humble Daoist is here."
The man flipped his palm, revealing a green token etched "Medicine King." "We're inner disciples of Medicine King Sect, sent by the sect leader to recruit. Kneel!"
Medicine King Sect envoys! Qing Feng dared not slack; Xuan Hu Guan was a mere affiliate, worlds below. He and the disciples knelt in obeisance.
The man scanned them. "This all? No proper disciples? Even cripples? What use to Medicine King Sect?"
"Er... forgive us, Envoy," Qing Feng faltered.
Wei Yun frowned; the man's arrogance bordered rudeness. Fellow sect-mates—why so? Fists clenched involuntarily.
Zhang Zhi Ping yanked him back, fearing rashness. These weren't foes they could provoke.
"Three-year term ended," the man continued. "Sect expands intake: all at Foundation Establishment perfection enter as formal outer disciples. How many do you have?"
"None but me," Qing Feng admitted.
"None?!" The man's face soured. "Others manage three or five. Useless! Fine—sect quota demands it. I'll take two barely qualified: mid-Foundation Establishment too."
"Grateful for Medicine King Sect's grace!" Qing Feng beamed. He had Wei Yun, Zhang Zhi Ping, and Mo Xiu Yun step forward.
The man eyed them, lingering on Mo Xiu Yun with a gleam, nodding. Then Zhang Zhi Ping's stump—shake of the head.
"No cripples—treatment wastes our pills. You two, with me."
Zhang Zhi Ping darkened.
Wei Yun and Mo Xiu Yun inwardly thrilled. Medicine King Sect was the dream; Xuan Hu Guan capped at Golden Core at best.
"Pack up—we leave now!" the man ordered.
"So soon? Stay a few days?" Qing Feng urged.
"No need. Your temple's a mess, Junior Brother Qing Feng. Manage better, recruit talent—or face sect master's wrath!"
"Yes, yes."
"Of course!" The man added, "Succeed, and sect rewards." He handed two yellow octagonal items.
Qing Feng's eyes widened: two first-grade talisman bills! Ecstatic.
Wei Yun and Mo Xiu Yun packed swiftly.
The man summoned the yellow gourd, chanting. It enlarged to house-size. The two envoys, plus recruits, mounted.
Activated, it rose and vanished skyward.
Xuan Hu Guan folk watched them fade, bittersweet. Zheng Ping sighed: When next see my beloved Mo Xiu Yun? If ever...
Qing Feng fretted over Shui Hong Yao...
Wei Yun watched Feng Wu City shrink to a dot. Memorize the route—return to see parents someday.
The gourd was superb: translucent green shield warded astral winds; speed devoured thousands of li in half a day.
A colossal gourd-shaped immortal mountain loomed—clouds swirling, cranes soaring, rainbow bridging falls in vibrant splendor. True paradise.
Medicine King Mountain, Medicine King Sect's gate. Safest in Great Ming Dynasty, mortals' sacred peak.
From afar, Wei Yun glimpsed beauties: disciples debating in pavilions, sword drills on plazas, elders meditating under ancient pines. Grand indeed.
The gourd descended; man stowed it, leading to a massive white jade archway. He pointed to "Medicine King Sect" carved above. "Behold—our main gate. Countless sects exist, but only Three Doctrines Seven Sects are true powers. We're one. Even as outer disciples, you outshine mortals a thousandfold!"
Envoys radiated pride, their status evident.
Wei Yun and Mo Xiu Yun exchanged glances, silent but stirred. Compared to Medicine King Sect, Xuan Hu Guan was a hamlet.
Inside, straight to the grand hall—packed with over a thousand awaiting assignment.
Center: towering golden statue of founder Yao Wang Lao Zu, compassionate, holding a herb.
Below: five on cushions. Center: white-haired, turbid-eyed elder—Yao Lao Ren, sect leader.
Flanking: four elders—Bai Zhi, Bai Shu, Shi Zhu, Su Mu. Three middle-aged men, one stunning woman in her thirties: Bai Zhi. All solemn.
Wei Yun gazed at ravishing Bai Zhi, struck by awe. Peerless beauty, yet distant. Colder than Shui Hong Yao, yet a deeper allure tugged at him inexplicably.
Envoys brought them in; a sword-bearing handsome youth approached, scanned, then bowed to Yao Lao Ren. "Sect Leader, last batch. All present."
Yao Lao Ren nodded slowly, eyes flashing sharp as he swept the hall. "You are affiliates from our sub-temples, nurtured years. Roots formed. Demons plague lands; even Seven Righteous Sects strain. Thus, expanded intake. From today, outer disciples. Reach Golden Core for inner disciple status. Train diligently—Medicine King Sect breeds no idlers. Elders, I retire; handle the rest."
Elders assented.
Bai Shu oversaw cultivation. In a pleasing baritone: "Post-entry, claim Medicine King Scripture Volume One from Scripture Pavilion. Cultivation queries? Find me."
Shi Zhu handled daily affairs: "Dwellings assigned soon. Life issues? See me."
Su Mu managed tasks: "Newbies can't craft talisman bills—earn via sect missions. Good stuff; you'll see. Tasks: find me."
Last: stunning Bai Zhi. Goose-egg face, mesmerizing eyes, Daoist bun. Slender form in green robe hinted at curves beneath. Untouchable allure.
Yet none dared lust; top elder, profound cultivation.
Her vermilion lips parted, husky voice booming: "I enforce discipline. Memorize Medicine King Sect's seven great precepts. Violate one iota—I show no mercy."
A murmur from the crowd: "The legendary Poison Matron, one of four elders? Lives up to the hype—gorgeous..."
Soft, it fooled disciples—but not elders. Bai Zhi's brows arched, eyes flashing ire. "Who prattles? Out!"
Silence fell, pin-drop.
"Hmph, think silence hides you from my search? Out!"
Her jade finger pointed; green light struck a twenty-something youth. He screamed, collapsing.
The sword youth strode up, kicking furiously. "Dare mouth off before Elder Bai? Courting death! To Venomous Serpent Mound—now!"
"Venomous Serpent Mound?" Veterans blanched.
Two green-robed disciples dragged the wailing man away; pleas unheeded.
Wei Yun watched, chilled. Fierce woman—best steer clear in Medicine King Sect.
Elders gave final words; Bai Zhi dismissed all.
Seniors then guided new outer disciples to quarters.
En route, Mo Xiu Yun whispered: "Junior Brother, see that senior brother? So handsome!"
"Which?" Wei Yun scanned.
She nodded subtly. Wei Yun spotted the sword-bearing youth passing—tall, fair, refined. Strikingly handsome.
The reporter and punisher—status above typical inner disciples, almost transcendent.
After he passed, Mo Xiu Yun hailed a senior disciple for intel.
The forty-something veteran grinned. "Him? Bai Wu You, one of our top ten true transmission disciples!"
"Ah... true disciple." Mo Xiu Yun's eyes sparkled with envy. True disciples outranked inner, core elites—second only to elders.
Wei Yun shrugged. "Senior Sister, no envying. We can't aim that high."
She slapped his shoulder, pouting. "Think I unworthy, Junior Brother?"
"Cough! No—you're a kingdom-toppling beauty, peerless, peach-blossom radiant, graceful as willow. He's unworthy."
"Such sweet truths—I love it." Mo Xiu Yun giggled.
Wei Yun got a rear-mountain cave—man-carved, spacious, well-furnished. A proper cave abode.
Mo Xiu Yun's was adjacent, side by side.