If not dying, no rush; Just pay and get treated
The little novice monk was packing his belongings in the meditation room.
He glanced at the medicine pot, thinking it necessary to bring along, as his master seemed to be unwell lately.
He also stuffed the wooden fish and a few scriptures he had been using for years into his bag. If they were to stay at another monastery temporarily, he couldn’t possibly borrow these items from others.
The monastery was abuzz. The martial artists had left, and the monks had different opinions.
Some wanted to leave, shaken by the day’s events.
Others insisted on staying. Their reasons were valid. With a dozen monasteries on Dragon Claw Peak and near the capital, none would willingly accommodate them. The vacant rooms were reserved for wealthy and noble pilgrims, not for monks from another monastery.
Taking temporary shelter at another monastery, a practice known as “hanging the robe,” usually provided just a place to stay, sometimes in poor conditions, like a firewood shed. Some wealthier monasteries might offer meals or an old monk’s robe.
Regardless of the conditions, this temporary arrangement was meant to be free of charge.
To continue staying, monks typically had two options: pay money or have a revered high monk use their fame to attract pilgrims. Such esteemed monks were always welcome to stay indefinitely.
Unfortunately, the monks of Liuhe Temple were neither wealthy nor famous, making their situation awkward.
While the monks debated, the young novice had already ran back to pack his baggage, and walked towards the old monk while humming.
“You…what are you doing?” The abbot was so frightened that he climbed up from the couch and called people over, “What are you doing standing still? You don’t know how to help?”
Only then did several monks react and rescued the little novice from the huge burdens.
When the little novice carried them into the yard just now, it was like a walking pile of sacks. The little novice was also staggering and crumbling under the weight of the baggage.
The other monks took the baggage, chuckling at the variety of items he had packed.
“Why did you bring the wooden fish?”
One monk asked upon seeing the collection of fish-shaped wooden instruments used in prayers.
“These are the ones that Master, my senior monks, and I are used to,” the novice explained. “If we are going to stay at another monastery, we can’t expect to borrow these from others.”
“And the medicine pot?”
“The doctor who came earlier said Master is unwell.”
The novice carried his belongings back, appearing ready to leave, prompting a monk to question his intentions. “We haven’t decided to leave yet. What are you implying, urging the Abbot and forcing everyone to abandon the monastery?”
The novice looked surprised. “The doctor said Master is sick and can’t stay on the mountain. Of course, I had to pack. Whether the other monks leave or not is their decision.”
The monks were left speechless by the little novice’s actions.
The situation was not as simple as he made it seem. If the abbot decided to leave, the position and responsibilities, along with the temple’s keys and property, would have to be handed over to a successor. This way, even if the former abbot returned after the danger had passed, disputes over property and position within Liuhe Temple would be avoided.
The monks who wanted to stay were likely eyeing the position of abbot.
The little novice’s actions, though, made them all look rather awkward.
It seemed as if they were concerned more with material things while only the youngest monk cared for the abbot’s health, making the other monks appear greedy for power and possessions. This made the decision to leave even more difficult.
The heart of a child is pure and simple, without so many twists and turns.
As the monks were in this uncomfortable situation, suddenly there was commotion at the temple gate.
Expecting it to be pilgrims, they went out to check and were shocked into silence.
The once imposing Jinyiwei were now injured, with some even being carried by their comrades. They looked behind them as if being chased by a tiger.
“We’ve made it, Deputy Commander!”
One of the guards called out to Gong Jun, who had followed after ensuring his men had retreated. He had caught up quickly due to his exceptional light-footedness. Once at the monastery, they hurriedly sought refuge, wary of further danger.
The sight of the severely injured guards, some missing limbs, terrified the monks.
Those who had been adamant about staying now had second thoughts.
No matter how sheltering the monastery was, constant conflict and violence were not acceptable.
“Where is the doctor?” Gong Jun, red-eyed and desperate, grabbed a monk and demanded to know.
The monk, trembling, replied that the young doctor who had suddenly appeared had already left.
“What? He left?!”
Gong Jun staggered, almost falling over.
His energy was depleted, and he had internal injuries. The strain of maintaining his composure collapsed when he heard that the doctor accompanying ‘Master Meng’ had gone.
His reason for bringing his men back to Liuhe Temple was to use Master Meng against Ancestor Qingwu. Regardless of Master Meng’s grudges against the Qi dynasty, as a State Teacher, he would not have taken kindly to Ancestor Qingwu’s plot to uncover the Emperor Li’s tomb treasures.
Master Meng, even in madness, killed swiftly and directly, not with shouts and chaos. But what about Ancestor Qingwu?
Faced with two evils, Gong Jun preferred a straightforward death over falling into Ancestor Qingwu’s hands.
As the Deputy Commander of the Jinyiwei, he could not afford any disgrace. Being killed by “common bandits” was unacceptable and would dishonor the emperor.
He feared the emperor’s wrath if he died dishonorably, possibly leading to his family’s ruin.
He worried about his beloved pet, the civet cats, who would be left alone if he died.
His thoughts were consumed by these worries as he grappled with his rapidly deteriorating situation.
The few domesticated cats were kept in excellent condition, with shiny fur and plump bodies. They were charming and skilled at catching mice, becoming famous in the capital city. Whenever they had young cubs, people would eagerly bring fish to offer, driven by the fact that these cats originated from the North Zhenfu Prefectural Palace. With such enthusiasm, they were never worried about finding owners. But what if they didn’t find good owners?
Without owners who would feed them fish and delicacies, would they catch enough mice to eat?
Among them, there were two elderly ones who could no longer run and catch mice. Would there still be people willing to take them home?
Gong Jun’s mind was in a mess, thinking about many things.
Sometimes it was about the cats, other times it was about his own affairs, then about State Teacher Meng, and then about the physician who could treat his subordinates’ injuries.
“Where is State Teacher Meng? Has he also left?” Gong Jun asked with difficulty.
The monks were puzzled and asked cautiously, “Who is State Teacher Meng?”
“That physician was alone.”
“Yes, just now, we heard from the Jinyiwei… you mentioned State Teacher Meng, but there are no longer any living people in the temple.”
Gong Jun almost spat out blood at the words.
How could he have left? Leaving a temple and the treasure buried beneath it unattended, what kind of situation was this?
Just when Gong Jun was feeling hopeless, he suddenly heard a voice.
“Why is everyone standing in front of the mountain gate? Find clean mats and put the injured down, and hurry to boil hot water!”
Mo Li didn’t continue to argue with Meng Qi about tracking the pigeons. He quickly walked to the mountain gate and pointed to two of the severely injured Jinyiwei, swiftly stopping their bleeding.
Their arms were severed, and blood was flowing continuously.
The Jinyiwei had also used methods to stop the bleeding; otherwise, these people wouldn’t have survived until this point.
“Hurry up, the method of sealing the meridians won’t last long, and we still need to administer acupuncture.”
Mo Li said as he removed his outer robe. His inner clothes were different from ordinary people; the sleeves only extended to above his forearms, exposing his entire wrists and palms. This type of clothing was commonly used by physicians, especially those who treated external injuries in the military camp.
The Jinyiwei were not unfamiliar with this attire, and although they didn’t recognize Mo Li, they quickly realized that he was the physician mentioned by Gong Jun.
Looking at Mo Li, who appeared fierce as if he were about to tear down the temple woodshed, the monks hurriedly said, “There’s hot water in the temple; we’ll go get it from the kitchen.”
Gong Jun struggled to bring the injured people into the Liuhe Temple.
Mo Li first washed his hands in the hot water that had been brought. Then he instructed someone to bring white cloth to boil.
“Everyone, get out. Don’t crowd in the room!” Mo Li began to drive people away.
The Jinyiwei who had carried the injured inside were unwilling to leave, and just as they were about to argue, Gong Jun scolded them and ordered them to lower their heads and leave.
Gong Jun, of course, couldn’t rest easy, so he watched from behind the window, looking at the blurry figures inside.
Suddenly, Gong Jun’s eyes widened as he noticed that Mo Li had an additional knife in his hand. The knife was less than a foot long, and its blade appeared dull and even seemed to lack an edge.
Mo Li placed the knife on the fire and then lifted the injured person’s arm, untied the blood-soaked bandage, and directly removed the remaining flesh and bone fragments.
The injured person was on the brink of death and only began to struggle when the pain became unbearable.
Mo Li was completely unafraid of the struggling patients; he could use acupuncture and administer acupuncture.
As a result, screams could be heard from the temple as the injured Jinyiwei were treated. They almost rushed inside, but Gong Jun stopped them.
Mo Li’s expression remained unchanged, and he showed no emotion even in the face of gruesome wounds. He was both precise and swift in his actions, and in no time, he had cleaned the broken arm completely, removing bone fragments and even some seemingly intact flesh.
Apart from swordsmen, people in the martial world did not have the habit of frequently wiping their weapons.
They usually just gave them a quick polish, and sometimes, to conceal their weapons, they would hide them in a haystack or under a carriage.
Having an arm severed by such a weapon, even if it didn’t result in fatal bleeding, would lead to infection at the wound site, followed by fever and death within seven days. Mo Li’s delay of a mere incense stick’s worth of time meant one less chance of survival for the injured man.
Mo Li remained focused and decisive in his actions. There was no visible blade; only the afterimages of his sword strokes could be seen.
The unfortunate Imperial Guard, writhing in pain, almost believed he had fallen into the hands of an enemy who was subjecting him to torture.
Just as he was screaming for help, Mo Li finished the procedure and glanced at him before taking a piece of white cloth and some healing ointment to start bandaging.
“…”
Gong Jun’s eyes widened as he saw a glimpse of swordsmanship in a physician’s actions.
For Gong Jun, who had mastered swordsmanship to an extraordinary level, it seemed like there was more to the swift afterimages than met the eye. It was challenging to perceive, but it undeniably existed.
“Who are you exactly?” Gong Jun couldn’t help but ask.
Mo Li finished treating the second severely injured person and happened to hear Gong Jun’s question as he left the room.
“The injured should not speak,” Mo Li gestured to the nearby Imperial Guard to carry Gong Jun to another room.
Gong Jun covered his mouth and started coughing violently, then began coughing up blood.
“Lord Gong!”
“I have suffered internal injuries, and they are severe,” Gong Jun knew he wouldn’t die, but he couldn’t carry on now. Ancestor Qingwu was probably on his way, and this trouble should be left to State Teacher Meng. So, while coughing up blood, he instructed his subordinates, “Xiao Baihu, if I die, take this fifty taels of silver and find a good place for my cats at home…”
Mo Li washed away the bloodstains on his hands and interrupted Gong Jun’s last words, “Ten taels of silver to cure your internal injuries, interested? You won’t die without treatment, and I’m not in a hurry. Take your time to think.”
Gong Jun: “…”
Author’s Note:
Gong Jun: After I die, my cats…
Mo Li: You won’t die. Take care of your own cats and don’t let them scare people.
—–
In ancient medicine, they didn’t talk about bacteria but rather ‘evil influences,’ such as wind evil and various other malevolent forces invading the body. There was some basic concept of disinfection.
The protagonist doesn’t have a sterile room, but don’t worry; he has inner energy and spiritual energy to rely on. [Hey]
If not dying, no rush; Just pay and get treated
The little novice monk was packing his belongings in the meditation room.
He glanced at the medicine pot, thinking it necessary to bring along, as his master seemed to be unwell lately.
He also stuffed the wooden fish and a few scriptures he had been using for years into his bag. If they were to stay at another monastery temporarily, he couldn’t possibly borrow these items from others.
The monastery was abuzz. The martial artists had left, and the monks had different opinions.
Some wanted to leave, shaken by the day’s events.
Others insisted on staying. Their reasons were valid. With a dozen monasteries on Dragon Claw Peak and near the capital, none would willingly accommodate them. The vacant rooms were reserved for wealthy and noble pilgrims, not for monks from another monastery.
Taking temporary shelter at another monastery, a practice known as “hanging the robe,” usually provided just a place to stay, sometimes in poor conditions, like a firewood shed. Some wealthier monasteries might offer meals or an old monk’s robe.
Regardless of the conditions, this temporary arrangement was meant to be free of charge.
To continue staying, monks typically had two options: pay money or have a revered high monk use their fame to attract pilgrims. Such esteemed monks were always welcome to stay indefinitely.
Unfortunately, the monks of Liuhe Temple were neither wealthy nor famous, making their situation awkward.
While the monks debated, the young novice had already ran back to pack his baggage, and walked towards the old monk while humming.
“You…what are you doing?” The abbot was so frightened that he climbed up from the couch and called people over, “What are you doing standing still? You don’t know how to help?”
Only then did several monks react and rescued the little novice from the huge burdens.
When the little novice carried them into the yard just now, it was like a walking pile of sacks. The little novice was also staggering and crumbling under the weight of the baggage.
The other monks took the baggage, chuckling at the variety of items he had packed.
“Why did you bring the wooden fish?”
One monk asked upon seeing the collection of fish-shaped wooden instruments used in prayers.
“These are the ones that Master, my senior monks, and I are used to,” the novice explained. “If we are going to stay at another monastery, we can’t expect to borrow these from others.”
“And the medicine pot?”
“The doctor who came earlier said Master is unwell.”
The novice carried his belongings back, appearing ready to leave, prompting a monk to question his intentions. “We haven’t decided to leave yet. What are you implying, urging the Abbot and forcing everyone to abandon the monastery?”
The novice looked surprised. “The doctor said Master is sick and can’t stay on the mountain. Of course, I had to pack. Whether the other monks leave or not is their decision.”
The monks were left speechless by the little novice’s actions.
The situation was not as simple as he made it seem. If the abbot decided to leave, the position and responsibilities, along with the temple’s keys and property, would have to be handed over to a successor. This way, even if the former abbot returned after the danger had passed, disputes over property and position within Liuhe Temple would be avoided.
The monks who wanted to stay were likely eyeing the position of abbot.
The little novice’s actions, though, made them all look rather awkward.
It seemed as if they were concerned more with material things while only the youngest monk cared for the abbot’s health, making the other monks appear greedy for power and possessions. This made the decision to leave even more difficult.
The heart of a child is pure and simple, without so many twists and turns.
As the monks were in this uncomfortable situation, suddenly there was commotion at the temple gate.
Expecting it to be pilgrims, they went out to check and were shocked into silence.
The once imposing Jinyiwei were now injured, with some even being carried by their comrades. They looked behind them as if being chased by a tiger.
“We’ve made it, Deputy Commander!”
One of the guards called out to Gong Jun, who had followed after ensuring his men had retreated. He had caught up quickly due to his exceptional light-footedness. Once at the monastery, they hurriedly sought refuge, wary of further danger.
The sight of the severely injured guards, some missing limbs, terrified the monks.
Those who had been adamant about staying now had second thoughts.
No matter how sheltering the monastery was, constant conflict and violence were not acceptable.
“Where is the doctor?” Gong Jun, red-eyed and desperate, grabbed a monk and demanded to know.
The monk, trembling, replied that the young doctor who had suddenly appeared had already left.
“What? He left?!”
Gong Jun staggered, almost falling over.
His energy was depleted, and he had internal injuries. The strain of maintaining his composure collapsed when he heard that the doctor accompanying ‘Master Meng’ had gone.
His reason for bringing his men back to Liuhe Temple was to use Master Meng against Ancestor Qingwu. Regardless of Master Meng’s grudges against the Qi dynasty, as a State Teacher, he would not have taken kindly to Ancestor Qingwu’s plot to uncover the Emperor Li’s tomb treasures.
Master Meng, even in madness, killed swiftly and directly, not with shouts and chaos. But what about Ancestor Qingwu?
Faced with two evils, Gong Jun preferred a straightforward death over falling into Ancestor Qingwu’s hands.
As the Deputy Commander of the Jinyiwei, he could not afford any disgrace. Being killed by “common bandits” was unacceptable and would dishonor the emperor.
He feared the emperor’s wrath if he died dishonorably, possibly leading to his family’s ruin.
He worried about his beloved pet, the civet cats, who would be left alone if he died.
His thoughts were consumed by these worries as he grappled with his rapidly deteriorating situation.
The few domesticated cats were kept in excellent condition, with shiny fur and plump bodies. They were charming and skilled at catching mice, becoming famous in the capital city. Whenever they had young cubs, people would eagerly bring fish to offer, driven by the fact that these cats originated from the North Zhenfu Prefectural Palace. With such enthusiasm, they were never worried about finding owners. But what if they didn’t find good owners?
Without owners who would feed them fish and delicacies, would they catch enough mice to eat?
Among them, there were two elderly ones who could no longer run and catch mice. Would there still be people willing to take them home?
Gong Jun’s mind was in a mess, thinking about many things.
Sometimes it was about the cats, other times it was about his own affairs, then about State Teacher Meng, and then about the physician who could treat his subordinates’ injuries.
“Where is State Teacher Meng? Has he also left?” Gong Jun asked with difficulty.
The monks were puzzled and asked cautiously, “Who is State Teacher Meng?”
“That physician was alone.”
“Yes, just now, we heard from the Jinyiwei… you mentioned State Teacher Meng, but there are no longer any living people in the temple.”
Gong Jun almost spat out blood at the words.
How could he have left? Leaving a temple and the treasure buried beneath it unattended, what kind of situation was this?
Just when Gong Jun was feeling hopeless, he suddenly heard a voice.
“Why is everyone standing in front of the mountain gate? Find clean mats and put the injured down, and hurry to boil hot water!”
Mo Li didn’t continue to argue with Meng Qi about tracking the pigeons. He quickly walked to the mountain gate and pointed to two of the severely injured Jinyiwei, swiftly stopping their bleeding.
Their arms were severed, and blood was flowing continuously.
The Jinyiwei had also used methods to stop the bleeding; otherwise, these people wouldn’t have survived until this point.
“Hurry up, the method of sealing the meridians won’t last long, and we still need to administer acupuncture.”
Mo Li said as he removed his outer robe. His inner clothes were different from ordinary people; the sleeves only extended to above his forearms, exposing his entire wrists and palms. This type of clothing was commonly used by physicians, especially those who treated external injuries in the military camp.
The Jinyiwei were not unfamiliar with this attire, and although they didn’t recognize Mo Li, they quickly realized that he was the physician mentioned by Gong Jun.
Looking at Mo Li, who appeared fierce as if he were about to tear down the temple woodshed, the monks hurriedly said, “There’s hot water in the temple; we’ll go get it from the kitchen.”
Gong Jun struggled to bring the injured people into the Liuhe Temple.
Mo Li first washed his hands in the hot water that had been brought. Then he instructed someone to bring white cloth to boil.
“Everyone, get out. Don’t crowd in the room!” Mo Li began to drive people away.
The Jinyiwei who had carried the injured inside were unwilling to leave, and just as they were about to argue, Gong Jun scolded them and ordered them to lower their heads and leave.
Gong Jun, of course, couldn’t rest easy, so he watched from behind the window, looking at the blurry figures inside.
Suddenly, Gong Jun’s eyes widened as he noticed that Mo Li had an additional knife in his hand. The knife was less than a foot long, and its blade appeared dull and even seemed to lack an edge.
Mo Li placed the knife on the fire and then lifted the injured person’s arm, untied the blood-soaked bandage, and directly removed the remaining flesh and bone fragments.
The injured person was on the brink of death and only began to struggle when the pain became unbearable.
Mo Li was completely unafraid of the struggling patients; he could use acupuncture and administer acupuncture.
As a result, screams could be heard from the temple as the injured Jinyiwei were treated. They almost rushed inside, but Gong Jun stopped them.
Mo Li’s expression remained unchanged, and he showed no emotion even in the face of gruesome wounds. He was both precise and swift in his actions, and in no time, he had cleaned the broken arm completely, removing bone fragments and even some seemingly intact flesh.
Apart from swordsmen, people in the martial world did not have the habit of frequently wiping their weapons.
They usually just gave them a quick polish, and sometimes, to conceal their weapons, they would hide them in a haystack or under a carriage.
Having an arm severed by such a weapon, even if it didn’t result in fatal bleeding, would lead to infection at the wound site, followed by fever and death within seven days. Mo Li’s delay of a mere incense stick’s worth of time meant one less chance of survival for the injured man.
Mo Li remained focused and decisive in his actions. There was no visible blade; only the afterimages of his sword strokes could be seen.
The unfortunate Imperial Guard, writhing in pain, almost believed he had fallen into the hands of an enemy who was subjecting him to torture.
Just as he was screaming for help, Mo Li finished the procedure and glanced at him before taking a piece of white cloth and some healing ointment to start bandaging.
“…”
Gong Jun’s eyes widened as he saw a glimpse of swordsmanship in a physician’s actions.
For Gong Jun, who had mastered swordsmanship to an extraordinary level, it seemed like there was more to the swift afterimages than met the eye. It was challenging to perceive, but it undeniably existed.
“Who are you exactly?” Gong Jun couldn’t help but ask.
Mo Li finished treating the second severely injured person and happened to hear Gong Jun’s question as he left the room.
“The injured should not speak,” Mo Li gestured to the nearby Imperial Guard to carry Gong Jun to another room.
Gong Jun covered his mouth and started coughing violently, then began coughing up blood.
“Lord Gong!”
“I have suffered internal injuries, and they are severe,” Gong Jun knew he wouldn’t die, but he couldn’t carry on now. Ancestor Qingwu was probably on his way, and this trouble should be left to State Teacher Meng. So, while coughing up blood, he instructed his subordinates, “Xiao Baihu, if I die, take this fifty taels of silver and find a good place for my cats at home…”
Mo Li washed away the bloodstains on his hands and interrupted Gong Jun’s last words, “Ten taels of silver to cure your internal injuries, interested? You won’t die without treatment, and I’m not in a hurry. Take your time to think.”
Gong Jun: “…”
Author’s Note:
Gong Jun: After I die, my cats…
Mo Li: You won’t die. Take care of your own cats and don’t let them scare people.
—–
In ancient medicine, they didn’t talk about bacteria but rather ‘evil influences,’ such as wind evil and various other malevolent forces invading the body. There was some basic concept of disinfection.
The protagonist doesn’t have a sterile room, but don’t worry; he has inner energy and spiritual energy to rely on. [Hey]
