Whose Medicine Is Best?

Li Banfeng changed into a guard's uniform and slipped silently into the medicine storehouse. Shelves stood packed, layer upon layer, with all manner of medicinal ingredients. He didn't recognize raw herbs or prepared medicines. Guessing that whatever was packed into the big burlap sacks wasn't worth much, Li Banfeng left those alone. The contents of the bottles and jars, however, were bound to be good stuff. Trip after trip, he hauled them all into the Portable Abode. There was a locked wooden chest—its contents probably the most valuable of all—so Li Banfeng took that as well. Seeing Li Banfeng lug back a whole pile of things, the gramophone puffed out a cloud of steam in utter disdain. Having cleaned out the medicine storehouse, Li Banfeng headed to the front counter. From behind it, he turned up 83,218 yuan in cash and 126 silver dollars, sweeping them all into the Portable Abode as well. With the looting mostly finished, Li Banfeng returned to the watermelon men's room. He gathered up some more watermelon pulp, swallowed it down, and dragged out a burlap sack from a corner of the room. The sack held brown granules that reeked with a pungent, fishy odor. This was fertilizer for the watermelon men. Li Banfeng didn't know its origin, but he knew its purpose. He fed the fertilizer into the mouths of the watermelon men. The previously dull, wooden constructs widened their eyes, suddenly brimming with murderous aura. From inside out, Li Banfeng smelled entirely of watermelon; the watermelon men took him for one of their own. With a single bark, Li Banfeng commanded, "Kill!" Over twenty watermelon men filed out of the room in neat formation and into the courtyard. A dozen or so guards belonging to the medicine shop were sleeping in the wing rooms. With a loud crash, a door was slammed open, and over twenty watermelon men marched inside. One guard rubbed his eyes, saw a horde of watermelon men stepping into the room, and shouted, "Oh no, quick—" Those three words were all he managed before a watermelon man took his head off with a single slash. The guards woke in shock. The faint-hearted, still bewildered by what was happening, were cleaved to the floor on the spot by the watermelon men. The bolder ones grabbed weapons to fight back, but the watermelon men felt neither pain nor fear. The guards were no match for them at all, unable to hold out for more than a few exchanges before falling one after another beneath the blades. The two cleverest guards leapt straight out the window, shouting at the top of their lungs, "Head Guard, something's gone wrong!" In the back courtyard, Head Guard Song Baiming heard the commotion and instructed two First Tier Martial Cultivators, "You two guard the back courtyard! Don't go anywhere!" With that, Song Baiming charged into the front courtyard. He had intended to see which bandits had come knocking and test the waters with some underworld talk first. When he saw watermelon men swarming all over the courtyard, Song Baiming's brow furrowed at once. How could something go wrong with these things? For the watermelon men to attack and harm anyone, two preconditions had to be met. First, they had to eat fertilizer. Second, someone had to eat the special watermelon, work up a sweat, and issue commands to them. This group of watermelon men was watched by dedicated guards; logically, such a thing shouldn't have been possible. No use overthinking it now. Song Baiming yelled to a guard, "Go get a watermelon!" The guard had barely run two steps before a watermelon man plunged a blade into his chest. Seeing this, Song Baiming dashed toward the dispensary himself to fetch a watermelon. Killing anyone in sight, the watermelon men encircled Song Baiming in the middle of the courtyard. In his desperation, Song Baiming bent forward sharply. His arms swelled violently, ripping through his sleeves. From shoulders to fingertips, a layer of hard carapace coated his arms. His palms expanded further, five fingers fusing into two, resembling a pair of massive pincers. With a single snap of the pincer, he sheared off a watermelon man's head. Watermelon pulp spilled out. Song Baiming scooped up a handful, intending to shove it into his mouth. But he wasn't fast enough—encased in armor, he was even slower. Even headless, the watermelon man swung its cleaver, fighting on against Song Baiming. Song Baiming's pincers flailed up and down, hacking the watermelon man into a mess of rind and pulp on the ground. This guy... looked like a crab. The so-called body cultivators seemed quite bionic in nature. Li Banfeng didn't linger. While Song Baiming was held up, he climbed onto the roof overlooking the back courtyard. Geng Zhiwei stood in the center of the courtyard, berating the guards: "Who the fuck let the watermelons out?! I'm gonna skin the bastard alive today!" The two Martial Cultivators urged Geng Zhiwei to retreat inside. "Young Master, hurry back inside! It's dangerous in the courtyard!" "What's there to be afraid of?! Bring a watermelon over, shout at them, and they'll all stop! Let me tell you, I paid a fortune for these. If one or two get broken, I won't hold it against you, but if you wreck all of them, just watch how I deal with you!" A guard ran toward the front dispensary to retrieve a watermelon. The pretty Third Concubine, draped in a short jacket of blue brocade, stepped out of the room. Taking Geng Zhiwei's arm, she said coquettishly, "Master, come back inside, quick. I'm scared." The Third Concubine was genuinely terrified. Her whole body trembled, her conscience trembled right along, and her hefty peaches trembled too. Geng Zhiwei shoved the Third Concubine aside and bellowed at the guard, "Did you get that watermelon yet?! How much fucking longer are you going to dawdle?!" This was the watermelon men's fatal vulnerability: so long as someone ate the watermelon and worked up a sweat, they could command them. At this rate, Geng Zhiwei would soon eat the watermelon and regain control over the constructs. Yet Li Banfeng's purpose here tonight wasn't merely to take medicinal pills, nor was it just to seize money, and certainly not as simple as making the watermelon men stage a riot. He was going to do something big! He could accomplish this big feat on his own, but to get it done completely in a short time, it would be best to enlist a helper. To do something, one had to invest capital. To do something big, one had to invest heavy capital! Perched on the roof beam, Li Banfeng struck a match and lit the paper money in his hand. A whiff of alcohol drifted over, and Li Banfeng heard Old Mr. Yao's voice: "What are you calling on me for? Surely you don't expect me to kill someone? That doesn't suit my status." This was well within Li Banfeng's expectations. Old Mr. Yao had said that he wouldn't do anything beneath his standing. "Kill people? How would I dare trouble you with such a thing, Old Sir?" "Then what do you want? Medical treatment, or buying medicine? Anything else is off the table." Li Banfeng said, "I'd like to buy medicine. Some top-grade medicinal wine." "Buying medicinal wine?" The old gentleman chuckled. "Strong wine or mild wine?" "Strong wine. The stronger, the better." "For you to drink alone?" Li Banfeng made a rough estimate. "Enough for over a hundred mouths to drink." "That much? What I sell is medicinal wine, not poison. Think carefully!" Li Banfeng answered firmly, "I've thought it through. The wine used to treat Xiaopang is the most suitable." "Where do you want this wine drunk?" "Right here in this medicine shop." The old gentleman replied, "I have bottled wine and bulk wine. The bulk wine is stronger, but it's scattered and messy to handle. Which kind do you want?" "Bulk. The more scattered, the better—preferably a mouthful sprayed directly by you, Old Sir." The old gentleman chuckled. "Excluding the deposit, the wine itself will be another five hundred thousand. No haggling. It must be drunk right here in this medicine shop; you're not allowed to carry it out." Li Banfeng nodded. "Deal!" As the words fell, the paper money burned to ash. Whoosh—a gust of wind stirred. A rich, heavy aroma of alcohol instantly enveloped the entire medicine shop. Old Mr. Yao's voice rang in his ear once more: "Remember this: my medicine is the finest in Yaowanggou. It can only be used to cure ailments." Li Banfeng replied earnestly, "Rest assured, curing them is exactly what this is for." "Heheheh!" Following a chuckle, Old Mr. Yao's voice vanished. Li Banfeng took out the pendulum, Hanxue, loosened its screw, and sprayed out the residual grease. He struck a match and tossed it along the line of sprayed grease. A serpent of fire surged against the night sky, and in the blink of an eye, the entire Geng Family Medicine Shop was engulfed in a sea of flames. Li Banfeng opened the Portable Abode and threw the key outside the medicine shop's perimeter wall. Sitting in the main room, Li Banfeng carefully pondered Old Mr. Yao's words. Old Mr. Yao had said that if Li Banfeng was clever, once their business concluded, he would naturally figure out his identity. Did Li Banfeng know now? He did. Old Mr. Yao said his medicine was the finest in Yaowanggou. Whose medicine was the finest in Yaowanggou? Naturally, the Medicine King's. Outside Yaowanggou, the Medicine King had no leverage, but inside Yaowanggou, the Medicine King could lend a hand. The Medicine King of Yaowanggou was a Wine Cultivator. Was it surprising? Li Banfeng had no time to be surprised; he still had other business to attend to. ... With flames rolling across the compound, Eldest Young Master Geng Zhiwei completely lost his cool. Rushing out of the house into the courtyard, he shouted and screamed: "What the fuck are you all standing around for?! Put out the fire! Go fight the fire! I fucking told you to store more water! What the fuck were you doing before?! "You two, follow me inside! Help carry things out! Move the cash out first, then the silver dollars, then the calligraphy and paintings..." Geng Zhiwei carried out two cases of paper currency, while each of the two Martial Cultivators emerged carrying two cases of silver dollars. Geng Zhiwei was still calling for men to grab the calligraphy and paintings, but by then, the blaze had already swept into the interior. None of the guards dared enter the house, fleeing toward the back gate for their lives. Geng Zhiwei bellowed in fury, "Useless bastards! Go grab the pills first!" He moved to fetch the pills from the front courtyard himself, only to see the watermelon men marching into the back courtyard in orderly formation. How did the watermelon men get in here? Where was Head Guard Song Baiming? Song Baiming had fled. One couldn't blame the head guard for disloyalty; he was human, and he feared fire. But the watermelon men did not. As the fire raged fiercer and more watermelon men closed in, the two Martial Cultivator guards hurriedly urged Geng Zhiwei, "Young Master, run! If we don't leave now, we're done for!" Gritting his teeth, Geng Zhiwei rushed toward the back gate carrying his chests of cash. The two Martial Cultivators stayed hot on his heels. The Third Concubine ran slowly, stumbling along as she struggled to keep up. Near the back gate, the smoke hung thick and acrid, stinging Geng Zhiwei's eyes so badly he couldn't keep them open. Tripping over debris on the ground, he stumbled and nearly fell. A guard stepped up to steady Geng Zhiwei. "Young Master, follow me!" Geng Zhiwei hurriedly followed the guard. Behind him, the two Martial Cultivator guards grew furious. Who the fuck was this guy? Fucking shameless! We're practically out the door, and he swoops in to steal the credit? Where was he while we were risking our necks protecting the young master? The two Martial Cultivators gave chase at once. But after clearing the back gate, they discovered that their young master's figure had suddenly vanished into thin air. Not good—that fellow just now was up to something! He might not even be a guard! "Young Master!" The two Martial Cultivators shouted all the way, pursuing in the direction Geng Zhiwei had vanished. Barely two strides in, their vision plunged into total darkness. Ding-a-ling. Li Banfeng tossed the key out. Slam. The door shut tight. The guard who had led Geng Zhiwei in his flight was Li Banfeng. Li Banfeng had been wearing a guard's uniform all along, and Dwelling Cultivators were naturally prone to being overlooked. Geng Zhiwei had already been in a panic, and with smoke blinding his eyes, he hadn't noticed that this "guard" was actually a stranger. Just like that, Li Banfeng had guided Geng Zhiwei straight into the Portable Abode. Geng Zhiwei groped around in the dark, shouting, "Where is this? What is this place?!" The two guards sensed Li Banfeng's aura, but couldn't pinpoint his exact location yet. They barked furiously, "Where'd this piece of trash come from?! What kind of trickery is this?! Get the hell out here right now, and I might leave your corpse intact!" Li Banfeng let out a long sigh. "I was worried my lady would get too plump, so I only planned to let her eat one. Who knew three would show up?" He truly had intended only to bring Geng Zhiwei in. He hadn't expected the two Martial Cultivators to be so loyal that they'd follow right into the Portable Abode. Hearing Li Banfeng's voice, the two Martial Cultivators pinpointed his location and charged forward to fight him to the death. Could they beat Li Banfeng? A First Tier Dwelling Cultivator inside his own residence could match a Second Tier cultivator in combat power. What was more, his lady was still waiting to dine. Clang-clang-clang~ The gongs and drums struck up. Li Banfeng parried the two Martial Cultivators with ease, not forgetting to remind the gramophone, "My lady, the banquet has begun. Eat slowly." Psh! Psh! Psh! "My lord, I cannot slow down! Do not laugh at your humble servant—I am truly famished~"