Chapter 32: Panacea

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“Chu Hengkong, enough already…”

Across the table, the wind howled. Ji Huaishu covered her face and sighed, her dignity enduring the greatest trial it had faced since birth.

This was an ordinary noodle shop, the sort found everywhere: old furnishings, down-to-earth surroundings, and a continued existence owed entirely to its low prices and the skill of its chef. Normally, the place would be filled with cheerful chatter and idle banter. Today, however, from the cook to the customers, everyone sat as silent as cicadas in winter. Not a single person dared lift their chopsticks. A dozen pairs of eyes were fixed on the man across from Ji Huaishu.

Chu Hengkong held his chopsticks in his right hand and buried his head in his noodles. His left arm, which had become a tentacle, swung back and forth as though wielding a racket. Every sweep made the elongated limb shudder through a full circle around the shop. Seen from above, it looked uncannily like a silver electric fan.

Everyone appeared terrified. When faced with fan blades that might slice across one’s scalp at any moment, few people could remain calm.

The shopkeeper’s scant remaining hairs fluttered pitifully in the wind raised by the tentacle. Trembling, he asked, “What are your divine orders, Your Grace?”

“No divine orders… He’s just having a fit…” Ji Huaishu replied weakly.

At that moment, the circling tentacle gave a sharp crack. Chu Hengkong suddenly raised his head, a strand of pickle still hanging from the corner of his mouth.

“I’ve got it!”

Everyone in the shop jolted. The more timid customers immediately leaped to their feet with their bowls, clearly preparing to flee. Ji Huaishu wanted nothing more than to crawl into a crack in the floor.

Seeing their reaction, Chu Hengkong realized what had happened. He tossed the shopkeeper a large bead of currency.

“Sorry for frightening everyone. I’ll pay for the whole shop today. Keep the change.”

The terror on everyone’s faces instantly transformed. One after another, they praised the divine emissary for his compassion and his beautiful tentacles, then began shouting for another bowl.

The shopkeeper happily hurried into the kitchen. A large bowl of noodles cost seven beads, while the single bead Chu Hengkong had given him was worth a thousand. With such generosity, the shopkeeper would have gladly let him run an electric fan—or even whip him a few times himself.

Ji Huaishu looked up in despair. “You used to be the sort of person who would go into a bar, announce, ‘Drinks are on me tonight,’ and then lead everyone in getting roaring drunk, didn’t you?”

“No. I used to be the one who cleaned up after other people got drunk by paying the bill.” Chu Hengkong corrected her solemnly. “I rarely drink. Alcohol affects my judgment.”

“You already look completely hammered.”

“I’m perfectly clearheaded. Mister Ji made the right decision back then.”

Those two disconnected remarks reflected Chu Hengkong’s genuine thoughts. After seeing Ji Huaishu swing her sword, he had begun studying the details of that technique. It had taken him most of half a day to finally grasp its secret. Compared with his former self, that speed could be called miraculous—but when he had just broken through into the realm of the Skillful Hand, he would not have needed even half a minute.

Only after returning to normal could one understand how precious the burst of inspiration accompanying a new transformation truly was. Learning three thousand techniques in three days had been the wisest decision he had made since arriving in Hui Dragon City.

While reminiscing about the inspiration he had lost, Chu Hengkong lowered his head and finished the remaining noodles. They had gone a little cold, but they still tasted good. The pitch-black noodles were made from coarse flour and plant roots, topped with slices of chicken, assorted pickles, and a spoonful of chili oil. A single bowl was enough to revive a person from head to toe.

“I never knew the swamp produced chili peppers.”

“This is Hui Dragon City’s granary. Walk outside and you’ll find foreign species everywhere. Aside from large livestock, it produces just about everything.” Ji Huaishu sucked on her chopsticks, her face full of longing. “Once order returns to the city, we’ll have the means to raise pigs, cattle, and sheep…”

Chu Hengkong punctured that soap bubble of fantasy. “Provided there are any piglets left alive in the city.”

“I hope there are.” Ji Huaishu gritted her teeth. “If there aren’t, you’re coming out of the city with me to steal some pigs!”

“Keep your voice down. The lookout at the door is laughing.”

Ji Huaishu turned toward the entrance and pulled a face. A furtive young man peeking inside was so frightened that he fled in panic.

She turned back with a click of her tongue. “There are spies everywhere! As if lowering our voices would help.”

She was not wrong. The enemy’s surveillance had become brazenly overt. Customers in the restaurant across the street, the vendor selling squid by the roadside, elderly men drinking tea in the teahouse… With a single glance, Chu Hengkong identified three spies. It was not difficult to imagine that even more people were lying in wait. If the spectacle and noise of his tentacle fan had not been so startling, the spies would probably have slipped straight into the shop to observe them.

He drained his bowl and said casually, “Issue a wanted notice and arrest Adali.”

There was little room for doubt. Only the Grand Wizard of the All Spirits Society possessed the resources to deploy such a vast network of people throughout the swamp. Granny Sangjia had been attacked that morning, so Adali was the only possible culprit.

Ji Huaishu was tempted. She raised her chopsticks several times, but in the end lowered them again.

“That won’t do.”

“Why not?”

“Religious rule is a form of distorted order as well,” Ji Huaishu said. “The last time I came to the swamp, I didn’t destroy the All Spirits Society because Granny Sangjia was a decent person—and, more importantly, because the swamp would have fallen into utter chaos if the society collapsed. Life is hard for the people at the bottom. Even blind faith gives them something spiritual to cling to. That old man has enormous prestige in the swamp. I’m afraid killing him outright would provoke a riot.”

“Old man?” Chu Hengkong seized on the phrase.

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“He’s nearly sixty!” Ji Huaishu said with disgust. “Either he borrowed the power of a demon, or he’s been using some dreadful drug. Either way, he’s no good.”

Sixty… A man who had grown old and cunning, who possessed immense prestige, and who served as an exceptionally intelligent “keystone.” The swamp’s foundation must therefore be extremely stable. They could not count on him making a mistake of his own accord.

There were too many people in this place. If a riot plunged it into disorder, the overall order of Hui Dragon City would inevitably decline, and Hui Dragon’s divine power would fall with it… In the worst case, the Healing Temple might become unusable. But if they sent a large force into the swamp to suppress the unrest, the Central Court would be left undefended, and there was no guarantee they would not be attacked from both sides…

The more Chu Hengkong thought about it, the more his head hurt.

“I understand why you didn’t want to come to the swamp.”

“I told you we should have attacked the club first!” Ji Huaishu sighed. “Come on, come on. Let’s get to work.”

As they left, Chu Hengkong heard whispers of discussion, as though they had been deliberately spoken for his benefit.

“That detective murdered Grand Wizard Alex…”

“His tentacles were stolen…”

“He isn’t the Divine Son…”

“That man disrupted the Divine Descent ritual…”

“Of course he and the Calamity Knight are cut from the same cloth…”

He merely smiled and let it pass, then headed for the Wet Tea Shop according to plan.

·

“Wet tea” was a specialty of the Emerald Marsh District. The marshes were damp and teeming with poisonous insects, and epidemics naturally flourished there. When Hui Dragon City was first built, there had been no Healing Temple, and outbreaks in the swamp had given the City Lord’s Office endless headaches.

Fortunately, danger and opportunity coexisted in the marshes. Immigrants had brought the customs and beliefs of their homelands, along with their medicinal herbs. Seeds from every corner of the world took root and sprouted in the swamp, and the abundance of medicinal plants there would have brought a smile to any physician’s face.

The Great Master Pure Repository was the first to discover this. He personally traveled into the marshes to investigate, then taught the people to boil medicinal herbs together with tea leaves and make a brew that dispelled dampness and expelled toxins. This tea had saved the swamp during the epidemic of that era. The people were deeply grateful to the Great Master Pure Repository, and the healing wet tea was passed down ever since.

Nowadays, every major settlement in the swamp had a famous wet-tea shop. It was said that each possessed a secret recipe never shared with outsiders. The Harmony Hall that the two of them visited first was one such establishment.

The shop stood in a bustling district. Though it had only opened that morning, customers were already waiting outside. A broad-armed, gray-skinned assistant accepted beads from each visitor and handed them a wooden bowl filled with chilled tea.

Chu Hengkong joined the queue and bought a bowl. While receiving it, he asked, “Is the physician here? We’d like to obtain a prescription.”

The gray-skinned assistant did not even look up. “You’re in luck today. Go on inside. The physician will be heading out to gather herbs shortly.”

Chu Hengkong thanked him, lifted the curtain, and entered the shop. The fragrance of medicinal herbs washed over him.

The wet-tea shop looked much like a traditional apothecary from the previous century. All sorts of herbs were stored behind labeled compartments in a massive wooden cabinet. A physician with the head of a rhinoceros beetle was packing a small satchel.

The doctor’s two tiny eyes were no larger than soybeans, and his insectile face had a kindly air.

“Sit down and tell me what’s wrong. What ails you?”

Chu Hengkong smiled. “Nothing ails me. A friend of mine wants to open a tea shop in the Central Court and sent me to find out which prescription sells best.”

The insect doctor laughed as soon as he heard this. “Your friend is a complete amateur! The Central Court has a different climate from the swamp, and its residents have different constitutions and races. No matter how good a prescription is, you can’t simply copy it wholesale, can you?”

Ji Huaishu had put her raincoat back on. Her voice was eerie and ominous.

“Merchants, always with their minds on money. We’re only asking on his behalf. Passing along the answer will fulfill our obligation.”

“See that thing in your hand?” The insect doctor nodded toward Chu Hengkong.

Chu Hengkong took a sip of the wet tea. It was cool and refreshing, with a faint sweetness hidden beneath the herbal flavor—an excellent drink for quenching thirst and beating the heat.

“It’s quite good.”

“Then you’ve got the answer. That one sells best,” the insect doctor said. “No matter what kind of shop it is, the Panacea is always the best seller.”

“This is the Panacea?” Chu Hengkong was startled. “Was this the prescription personally passed down by the Great Master Pure Repository?”

“Don’t laugh! You youngsters don’t understand. This is the genuine Panacea. Even if someone had been bitten by a snake whose venom would kill them after only a few steps, one bowl of this could pull them back from the brink on the spot. It saved countless lives back then.” The insect doctor’s expression grew solemn.

Then his voice sank. “But after being used for so long, it stopped working. Now all we can do is serve it as a refreshing tea… Sigh. I can’t explain why…”

The insect doctor sighed repeatedly, slung his small bag over his shoulder, and left.

Chu Hengkong watched him head east and could not help feeling puzzled.

To the east of Deeproot Settlement was the little path they had ridden bicycles along. It was surrounded by weeds and dead trees. Looking westward from the settlement’s heights, however, one could see dense jungle and hills covered in blooming flowers. That little mountain was almost the only splash of color in the area. Without even thinking, one could tell that rare herbs and exotic plants would grow in fertile mountain forests, not in barren wastelands.

“Doctor, are you sure you’re going the right way?” Chu Hengkong asked.

“Of course I’m not going the right way!” the insect doctor sneered. “You really are people from the Central Court. You don’t understand even the most basic rules of the swamp.”

Chu Hengkong was baffled. He was about to press the matter when Ji Huaishu tugged at his sleeve.

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“That’s Adali’s private land,” Ji Huaishu said coldly. “After sidelining Granny Sangjia, he seized all the fertile land in the marshes for himself. He used perfectly legal and reasonable methods, and paid the appropriate sums of money… But by the time the people realized what had happened, they had nowhere left to gather herbs. Now ninety percent of the medicinal plants in the marshes are Adali’s private property. When people pay exorbitant prices for medicine, they still have to praise the Grand Wizard for his compassion.”

Chu Hengkong vaguely saw a procession crawling across the mountain like a giant insect. Those must have been people laboring up the slopes in search of herbs. The line was gray-black, full of rags and filthy clothes. At the summit stood several tiny white specks: monks in white robes embroidered with gold edging. Atop the flower-covered mountain, the bronze spire of a church showed above the treetops.

Perhaps the Grand Wizard was sitting in that church at that very moment, calculating how much oil he could squeeze from the frail bones of the poor.

“I should have killed him the moment we met,” Chu Hengkong said.

“If you had tried, the people would have willingly made human shields for him,” Ji Huaishu replied calmly. “I tried.”

They returned to Harmony Hall, intending to buy several more prescriptions from the shop’s young apprentices. When they arrived, they found that the queue for the Panacea had grown even longer. Hope shone in the people’s eyes.

The gray-skinned assistant had grown tired of ladling tea and shouted impatiently, “If you’ve got someone at home suffering from light poisoning, don’t waste your time! This is only a cooling tea. It can’t save anyone’s life!”

The hope in the people’s eyes dimmed. Some left, but nearly half remained in line.

Several witch-women mingled among the customers, whispering into the ears of those waiting and urging them to pray to the gods rather than buy medicine. A middle-aged woman hesitated.

“But when someone falls ill, they ought to take medicine, shouldn’t they? My grandfather said this was the medicine that saved his life back then…”

The witch shouted, “Your grandfather was senile by then! Can you believe everything old people say? They also say Hui Dragon answers prayers. When have you ever seen it work a miracle? The Great Master and the Dragon God are all frauds! Come pray with me. At least that will give you peace of mind!”

The middle-aged woman was persuaded. Several more people left the line. The gray-skinned assistant was delighted to see the queue grow shorter, since it meant he could finally slack off.

Ji Huaishu saw the witch’s triumphant expression and silently clenched her fists. Chu Hengkong patted her hand.

“Don’t bother arguing with fools.”

They continued according to plan and visited the next wet-tea shop. Deeproot Settlement was not as crowded as they had imagined. Its residents had plain, honest faces, but unease and anxiety lay hidden beneath them. Their robes were drab and gray. Perhaps they had once been colorful, but after living in the swamp for so long, everything had faded to the same ashen hue.

More people hid behind doors and windows or lay in their beds. Chu Hengkong could hear their labored breathing and see ominous light leaking through the cracks in their doors.

Deeproot Settlement had more Luminous Corpses than Bountiful Settlement, yet the people here trusted neither physicians nor the authorities. They were failures who had been unable to survive in the Central Court, wanderers who had drifted here from the distant Dust Islands. Their faith in others—and in themselves—had long since been worn away by repeated misfortunes and wars.

Yet to live in this world, one had to believe in something. Unable to trust others or themselves, they hesitantly followed the crowd and placed their faith in illusory gods.

For the rest of the day, the two of them visited every major wet-tea shop in Deeproot Settlement, purchasing all manner of folk prescriptions from doctors and apprentices.

It was late at night when they finally returned to their base to rest. The bedclothes there were sticky, and the air conditioner roared like a helicopter, making peaceful sleep nearly impossible.

“Let’s take turns standing watch,” Chu Hengkong suggested. “I’ll go first. I’ll wake you at half past two.”

“Three!”

Chu Hengkong readily gave way. The extra half hour of sleep improved the golden-haired girl’s mood somewhat. She collapsed onto the bed and buried her head deep in the pillow, her voice muffled.

“Every time I come to the marshes, I feel…”

“Keep the priorities straight. We’re here to find gold. Thinking too much won’t help.”

“I know.” After a while, Ji Huaishu said gloomily, “I know.”

After washing up, the golden-haired girl fell asleep. She slept soundly even in such surroundings, possessing a heart of astonishing breadth.

Chu Hengkong thought for a while, then summoned the team member on watch to the doorway.

“What’s wrong, Detective?” the young guard asked nervously.

“Tell everyone to sleep in their gear tonight.” Chu Hengkong slipped him several beads. “Overtime pay. Thanks for your hard work.”

The young guard grew even more nervous. He hurried downstairs after putting away the beads.

Chu Hengkong returned to the bed, sat cross-legged, and meditated while listening to his partner grind her teeth from time to time.

·

Ji Huaishu did not sleep well. In her dream, she kept feeling that someone was following her. Whenever she turned around, she found an ancient and hideous octopus behind her. Its mud-smeared tentacles writhed toward her, each one wrapped around a person, leaving her nowhere to strike.

Then she was suddenly shaken awake. The old octopus’s face had become Chu Hengkong’s.

She blinked blankly.

“…Wasn’t it three o’clock?”

“Control your emotions,” Chu Hengkong said sternly. “We’re retreating.”

Still bewildered, she turned her head and saw crimson firelight shining in through the window.