Chapter 171: Inheritance

When Jian Mo said he couldn’t read the script, Xingyi was a little surprised.

The beastman language they used nowadays was a common tongue; anything written in it, Xingyi could read.
That Jian Mo didn’t recognize these characters truly caught him off guard.

Xingyi quickly adjusted his expression and smiled. “Looks like the writing where you’re from is quite different. I’ll have to see it sometime.”

Jian Mo looked at the kindly, gentle old witch-doctor before him. “Sure.”

Xingyi said, “Let me first tell you about the herbs on this prescription.”

He went over the ingredients at a brisk pace. Listening at the side, Jian Mo realized he knew most of them and had used many before.

So even though the Star-Store Tribe and the Riverside Tribe were far apart, their natural resources were largely similar.

Knowing the herbs made things easier. Jian Mo and his group were quickly assigned tasks and sent out to look for them.

Xingyi’s student Xingjiu said to Jian Mo’s party, “We know where most of these plants grow. It should be easier to find them now.”

Jian Mo: “That’s great.”

Xingjiu led the way. “Our tribe is a bit different from others. It’s a pity we’re in a rush today—otherwise I’d show you around. Come on, this way up the back mountain.”

Xingjiu’s temperament was mild, his speech unhurried.

Jian Mo noticed that teacher and student alike had a cultivated, refined air that set them apart from ordinary folk.

They climbed along a little path trodden by who-knew-how-many generations.

On the way, Jian Mo spotted some heat-clearing, detoxifying herbs—but not ones they needed today.

Chatting with Xingjiu, he found they used the same plants, but in different ways.

The Star-Store Tribe’s processing was clearly more meticulous than at Riverside: some herbs needed sun-drying, some roasting, some oil infusion—whereas Riverside mostly just tossed herbs into a pot to decoct.

That also showed their medical theory and technique here were much stronger. Jian Mo resolved to seize the chance to study hard.

The three of them walked on. When they reached the summit, the view suddenly opened wide.

From the mountaintop, Jian Mo looked down—on one side a plain, on the other the sea.

The sea here was a deep, pure blue, the beaches an inviting white; under the setting sun, it was breathtaking.

Sea wind billowed their clothing and lifted their spirits.

Jian Mo gaped. “There’s an ocean here?”

Xingjiu, who’d been bent over searching for herbs, straightened and followed his gaze, smiling. “Didn’t you see it when you flew in on the winged beasts?”

Jian Mo pointed. “We came overland, and our minds were full of Fenhui’s illness—we didn’t notice anything else.”

Xingjiu: “Well, we do have the sea. Our tribe is right on the shore. In a couple of days, when we’re free, I’ll treat you to seafood.”

Jian Mo: “Deal.”

Xingjiu laughed. “As if I’d trick you?”

After admiring the sea for a bit, Jian Mo bent back to his search.

They’d already found most of the ingredients; only one remained—a grass with especially tiny leaves. Once they found it, they could head down.

Xingjiu roughly knew where it grew, but it wasn’t a cultivated herb. Picking a specific plant out of the thick wild growth took effort.

The three of them combed the summit in a wide circuit, and only when dusk was closing in did they finally gather enough.

It was late; Wu Jiong shifted into a great wolf to carry them down.

Xingjiu was a little embarrassed, then praised him: “Chief Wu Jiong’s beast form is truly imposing.”

Jian Mo sat in front, hugging the great wolf’s neck. “You bet. In our region, Wu Jiong’s beast form is top-tier. Hold my waist tight—don’t fall.”

Xingjiu answered earnestly, “All right.”

The wolf’s stride was huge—six or seven meters at a bound. Running downhill was far faster than the climb.

They made it back before full dark.

Those who had taken Jian Mo out to forage returned as well.

After Xingyi carefully inspected the herbs and confirmed they were fine, he began decocting medicine for Fenhui right outside the house where Jian Mo’s group was temporarily staying.

Jian Mo and Wu Jiong went to help and watch.

When a master works, you can feel the difference.

Jian Mo watched Xingyi separate treatments: some herbs went straight into the pot, some were first roasted, some were dry-stirred in an un-oiled, dry ceramic pan to soften before being added to the decoction.

Soon the clearing bitterness unique to plants drifted across the yard.

Breathing that familiar scent steadied Jian Mo’s heart. He patiently asked about the steps he didn’t understand.

Xingyi said, “We decoct based on each patient’s body. Take Fenhui—he’s weak, so we remove as much toxicity as possible to make the decoction milder. If a patient were sturdier, keeping more of the toxicity is fine—‘fighting poison with poison’ can speed recovery.”

Jian Mo nodded. “I understand. No two people are exactly alike. A responsible witch-doctor can’t give everyone the exact same prescription.”

Xingyi looked up with a smile. “Exactly. If the body’s strong you can be less finicky, but if it’s not, you must be meticulous to avoid mishaps.”

Jian Mo nodded again. “Lesson learned.”

Xingyi continued: “Even with a written formula, you need to mind the order of adding herbs. Sometimes changing the order changes the effect.”

“And the vessel matters. I’ve seen metal-rich tribes use metal pots. That’s wrong—metal itself acts like a medicinal substance. Boiling decoctions in it can ruin the properties. You must use a large ceramic pot.”

Jian Mo mused, “That makes sense. Poor-quality metal can leach things out.”

“Right,” Xingyi said. “If you can taste metal, something’s leaching. That alters the formula. That’s why some patients take their medicine on schedule but never improve—so many ‘little’ details were missed.”

He held nothing back. Whenever Jian Mo grew curious, Xingyi patiently explained the less-known particulars as he worked.

His knowledge was vast, and the way he put things was convincing.

With such clear, grounded explanations, Jian Mo grasped many usages he hadn’t understood before.

Even from this one decoction session, he felt he’d gained a lot.

This trip was already worth it.

When Xingyi finished, Jian Mo sighed. “Back where I was before, at least I’d studied systematically. Here, so much I’ve had to feel out on my own—it’s unsatisfying, like scratching an itch through a boot.”

Xingyi chuckled at the odd idiom. “That’s a good one.”

“It’s true,” Jian Mo laughed. “Feels like I’m hitting the spot and not quite, and there’s no one to make it clear.”

Xilu and Yeluo had passed him prescriptions; when he met matching cases he could just apply them. But no one had taught him why. Without the underlying logic, if a patient’s condition deviated a bit, he’d be at a loss—much less able to synthesize or create new formulas.

His foundation for treating beastmen and sub-beastmen was too thin.

Seeing his confusion, Xingyi said, “When we learned, our teachers taught us hands-on: harvesting—what season you take leaves, what season you take roots, and why; decocting—what you add first, then next, then after that. You need someone to teach it. It’s hard to master just by groping along.”

Jian Mo: “It’s all inheritance.”

Xingyi nodded, approving. “Exactly.”

The medicine was ready. Xingjiu helped Xingyi sit while he picked up two big jars and poured the decoction back and forth to cool it.

Jian Mo hurried to help. “Cooling it faster?”

Xingjiu: “Yes, it’s too hot. We need it cooler so Fenhui can drink.”

Fenhui was sprawled in the courtyard, already fallen into a stupor.

The night breeze ruffled his fur into a mess.

Someone had brought a blanket and covered most of him, though not quite all.

After cooling the brew, Xingjiu and Jian Mo went to rouse Fenhui and feed him.

He didn’t need to shift back; he just lapped it up.

Still gravely ill, he lacked strength—the drinking was feeble. He lapped a long time before finishing the basin, his face wet with medicine.

As he drank, a fine sheen of sweat broke over him—this was one way beastmen differed from large wild animals. Beastmen had sweat glands; even in beast form they could sweat to shed heat.

Xingyi had them observe. “This is ‘empty sweat.’ See how it’s clear like water, not like ordinary sweat? Ordinary sweat feels tacky; when it dries, it leaves a film.”

Neither Xingjiu nor Jian Mo minded getting their hands dirty; they both reached out to check.

Xingyi had two more blankets brought, so they could draw sweat while still keeping Fenhui warm.

Though not at the most critical point, his case was urgent.

They stayed with him the whole time.

After one round of sweating, Fenhui rallied a little and blinked at them.

Still a big fox, his blinking looked rather cute.

Xingyi laughed and patted him gently.

He checked the tongue, ears, and armpits, then lay his ear to Fenhui’s body to listen to the organs.

“There are many causes and many presentations,” Xingyi said. “We have to infer the illness from the signs the body gives. That demands great care and patience. Misjudge the cause, and your prescription doesn’t match—then you simply won’t cure it.”

Jian Mo nodded repeatedly.

“As for why I judged Fenhui’s liver inflamed,” Xingyi went on, “you can look for signs on the tongue, ears, armpits, pupils, and you must listen to the belly’s sounds. Not just before prescribing—after he drinks, listen again to see whether it’s working.”

He was teaching both Xingjiu and Jian Mo. “You two come listen—get a feel for how it sounds after he’s taken the medicine.”

They both nodded and took turns listening carefully.

Smiling, Xingyi said, “That’s our approach to diagnosis and treatment. If it’s convenient, Witch-Doctor Jian Mo, perhaps you could share your methods as well?”