Chapter 309 — For Your Bruises

CHAPTER 309

For Your Bruises

“Hold still,” Sima Lan said, pulling the linen through. “I’m not doing this twice because you keep trying to sit up.”

Shi Feng lay on the plank bed in hut nine with his robe open and his teeth together. Sima Lan knelt beside him with a roll of linen. She wound it around his chest in tight, exact turns and tied it off with one sharp pull.

“One rib cracked, two bruised,” Sima Lan said. “Bandage, one roll. Healer's salve, one jar. Attendant's time, one hour. Eleven stones.”

“Charge it to Martial Palace,” Shi Feng said.

“I'm charging it to you,” Sima Lan said. “You'll bill them later. A debt isn't a payment.” She stood and shook out her sleeves. “You also left the wall without any chalk. I'll add the day to the count.”

“What count?” Shi Feng said.

“Days you were reckless,” Sima Lan said. She gathered the unused linen and went to the doorway. There she paused, looking back at him. His breathing was easier now. Her shoulders eased before she left.

He didn't ask what the pause meant. It was a doorway with no door in it. The door had been stolen long ago and was written on the wall in chalk, under the hinges and the bell.

He had just closed his eyes when a heavy boot struck the frame.

“Junior Brother!” Lin Langtian roared. “I leave you alone for three bowls of noodles!”

Shi Feng opened one eye. Lin Langtian stood in the doorway with a large wicker basket in both arms and a sweet potato clamped in his teeth. He dropped the basket on the table and spat the potato into his palm.

“Three bowls,” Lin Langtian said. “The noodle woman came running to tell me in the middle of the third. She said, 'Your junior just cracked a Martial Palace boy's ribs in the market!' I was so proud I forgot to finish my broth.”

“You left,” Shi Feng said.

“I left you a barrel!” Lin Langtian said, and flipped back the cloth on the basket. “I brought herbs. For your bruises.”

Shi Feng looked at them. Moon-silver ginseng, three leaves, still wet with mountain dew. Ninefold cloud lotus root, packed in jade chips. A vial of gold sap he had only seen drawn in books.

“These are Nascent Soul-grade,” Shi Feng said.

“Yes!” Lin Langtian said.

“For ribs,” Shi Feng said.

“For bruises,” Lin Langtian insisted. “Would you prefer your senior brother brought ordinary herbs and told you to wait a month? Get the cauldron ready.”

“I have cracked ribs,” Shi Feng said.

“Then lie back and use the cauldron,” Lin Langtian said.

He dragged the cracked cauldron on its three bell-melted legs to the bedside. Shi Feng sighed. He propped himself up on one elbow and called up the Thousand Forge Flame Art, which he'd held at Entry for a month, and let its heat settle in the iron.

Zhu Liu had appeared at the doorway at some point, holding a receipt book and trying not to look at the basket.

“Senior Brother Lin,” Zhu Liu said in a small voice. “Do I write the herbs down?”

“Write that I gave them freely,” Lin Langtian said. “Out of love.”

Zhu Liu wrote Herbs: gift (from love), hesitated, and added value unknown, probably large.

Shi Feng added the herbs carefully. Milky juice came from the cloud lotus, followed by the gold sap. He held the Thousand Forge Flame Art steady and counted his breaths, refusing to let the pain in his ribs hurry the preparation.

The pot hummed.

It hummed higher, a thin bright note.

Then something small cracked at the bottom, and the note went flat. A brown smoke rose, smelling of scorched peppermint and burnt sugar.

Shi Feng looked at the cauldron.

At the bottom lay a lump the size of a walnut, black as a coal and warm as a hand. Lin Langtian leaned over it with great interest.

“Waste!” Lin Langtian said happily. “Perfect! Look at that crust!”

“It's a failure,” Shi Feng said.

“It's a very educational failure!” Lin Langtian said. “Eat it.”

Any other cultivator would reject the waste pill like poison. Shi Feng swallowed it. His physique absorbed the ingredients’ remaining worth, and warmth slowly spread through his sore chest. It gave him the herbs’ effect, without a successful pill’s multiplication.

[Devoured: failed Nascent Soul-grade pill | Gain: the herbs' worth | Note: ribs repaired]

The bandage tightened and loosened by itself. He felt the broken bone shift, knit and set. Within a few breaths the sharp pain had gone to a dull itch.

“Well?” Lin Langtian asked.

“It's working,” Shi Feng said.

“Of course it is!” Lin Langtian slapped the doorframe so hard the whole hut shook. “That is the result of my teaching! If you'd stayed with Sima Lan's salve you'd limp for a month!”

“She charged me eleven stones,” Shi Feng said.

“A bargain!” Lin Langtian said. “Even a clever housewife can't cook without rice, Junior Brother.” He turned to go, then stopped with his hand on the empty frame. His voice dropped by a notch. “Junior Brother. Don't take a core-fist with your ribs again.”

“I won,” Shi Feng said.

“I know,” Lin Langtian said. “I'm still saying it.”

He went out, and his steps faded down the eastern lane, humming something tuneless.

Zhu Liu closed his book very quietly.

“Senior Brother Shi,” Zhu Liu said. “Is the cloud lotus a gift or a loan?”

“A gift,” Shi Feng said. “Write that I'll owe him.”

On the wall outside, a new mark appeared in chalk. It said: Reckless, one day.