Chapter 70

Wang Shouren took a portion of the artemisinin when he left, saying he wanted to help Liaochen test its efficacy. Liaochen had no objections and let him take it. After reminding him to continue purchasing sweet wormwood, Liaochen saw him out.

Liaochen then took the remaining powder and returned to Guiyang city, knocking on the door of Mo Mo’s home. To his surprise, Mo Mo’s wife opened the door. It appeared that in just a few days, she had recovered significantly. Liaochen was momentarily stunned, then quickly performed a Daoist salute: "Immeasurable Life to the Heavenly Worthy! I wonder if Young Master Mo is at home?"

"Greetings, Daoist. My husband has gone out on business," Mo Mo’s wife replied with a smile. After looking at him closely, she asked, "Are you the Immortal Master Liaochen who visited a few days ago?"

"Supreme Heavenly Worthy! Unless another Daoist named Liaochen has visited, it must be me. Did Young Master Mo mention where he was going or when he would return?" Upon hearing that Mo Mo had gone out during these plague-ridden times—hardly an ideal moment for travel—Liaochen felt a surge of goodwill for the young man’s dedication to the task he had been entrusted with.

"Ah!" Madam Mo, upon hearing his words, bowed immediately. "Little woman must thank the Immortal Master for saving my life. I am eternally grateful for your great kindness and virtue."

Liaochen gently helped her up. "Madam Mo, there is no need for this. Healing the sick is merely part of my duty; it does not warrant such a grand gesture. You and your husband are a devoted couple, and Young Master Mo’s sentiments are moving. You should thank your husband instead."

Madam Mo blushed slightly and invited Liaochen inside. "My husband went to the yamen; he should be back soon. Please, Immortal Master, wait inside for a moment."

As a monastic, Liaochen was not bound by secular concerns regarding the separation of men and women. He sat in the main hall to wait. After Madam Mo served him a cup of pre-rain tea, she remained standing nearby, appearing troubled and hesitant to speak. Liaochen asked curiously, "Madam Mo, is there something on your mind?"

Startled that the Immortal Master had sensed her distress before she could even ask, she knelt down. "I should not trouble you further, but my mother and younger brother have also contracted the plague. My father heard that I had met a master capable of curing this illness and begged me repeatedly. I cannot bear to watch my mother and brother perish, so I have come to ask for your mercy to save them." She bowed her head, weeping bitterly, looking truly pitiable.

Liaochen sighed and flicked his sleeve. Madam Mo felt an invisible force lift her from the ground. As she stood in bewilderment, Liaochen said, "Saving lives is my duty. You need not do this. What are the symptoms of your mother and brother?"

"Reporting to the Daoist, they suffer from chills and fever. The whole city is plagued, with many dying and few surviving. Even the doctors are helpless. We can only hope for the Immortal Master’s aid. I will be forever in your debt."

Liaochen nodded, took out the artemisinin powder he had brought, wrapped a portion in yellow paper, and handed it to her. "One spoonful at a time, mixed with cooled boiled water. Do not decoct it. Three times a day. If there is no improvement by tonight, I shall go there in person tomorrow."

After thanking him repeatedly, Madam Mo hurried off to her maiden home. Liaochen watched her go, thinking it slightly improper to leave a guest alone, but realizing that saving lives took precedence, he decided to wait for Mo Mo while sipping his tea.

Just as his tea was running low, a frantic, heavy pounding echoed at the door—not at all like the rhythm of a returning homeowner. Liaochen swept the area with his spiritual sense, and his expression darkened. It was not Mo Mo, but a squad of yamen runners. Based on his understanding of the integrity of officials in Guizhou province, he knew this boded ill.

With a grim face, Liaochen opened the gate. The runners were about to force their way in when they saw the Daoist. They were momentarily stunned, then delighted. "So, this monster-dweller was hiding a sorcerer! Men, seize this sorcerer and take him to the yamen for the bounty!" the head bailiff shouted. His subordinates drew their sabers, iron rulers, and staves. Some carried chains, clearly intent on an arrest.

Liaochen smiled coldly. "What laws have I or Young Master Mo broken to warrant this? And coming in such numbers—are you here to ransack the house? By whose order do you act? Where is the official warrant?"

The bailiff, seeing that the Daoist was entirely unafraid and even dared to interrogate them, hesitated. *Could this man have some powerful backing?* he wondered. Like modern police, these officials knew to be discerning; they knew who to avoid and who to flatter. If they offended the powerful, their lives would be forfeit. He scanned the Daoist, looking for signs of status, but found none. He glanced at his men, who shook their heads. It was likely just posturing.

Reassured, the bailiff’s arrogance returned. "You sorcerer, using evil arts and keeping ghosts, and stealing from the treasury—your crimes are heinous! I act under the order of the Governor. You can explain yourself at the yamen—after a taste of the paddle!"

Liaochen understood immediately. They were accusing him of stealing the Governor’s "tainted money." The Governor and his advisor, terrified, must have attributed the theft to the legendary "Five Ghosts Carrying Wealth" technique. As for targeting Mo Mo, it was likely due to his recent suspicious spending on shop renovations, or perhaps a grudge held by the officials.

The runners moved in, chains swinging. Liaochen, his temper flaring, grabbed the incoming chain and pulled. The runner fell, his hand bloodied as the chain was ripped away. Liaochen shook the chain, and it shattered into several pieces on the ground.

The runners turned pale, jumping back in terror. The bailiff’s face soured. He knew he had encountered a master. How could a mere scholar’s home harbor such a person? He was trapped; he couldn't retreat without losing face, but he couldn't defeat the Daoist.

"You sorcerer! Do you dare resist the imperial court?" the bailiff barked, trying to bolster his courage.

"Heh, a grave charge indeed," Liaochen replied, unfazed. "I wonder, if the court finds out, will they take your master’s head first, or mine?" He looked at the cowering men. "I was just about to pay your master a visit. Lead the way. If anyone dares to step foot in the Mo residence again or disturb his family, I will use their entire clan’s heads to consecrate my sword." He gestured toward the peach-wood sword on his back.

The runners, truly believing he was capable of such a thing, shrank back. They led the way, with Liaochen following leisurely behind, as if they were his escort.

Inside the Governor’s yamen, the Governor had not slept for days. He had already beaten his advisor of ten years to within an inch of his life, suspecting him of the theft. Desperate, he had ordered his men to find anyone in the city who had come into sudden wealth.

When he heard about Mo Mo—the scholar who had suddenly found money to rent shops and whose wife had been cured by a Daoist’s "talisman water"—he had Mo Mo arrested. But the scholar was stubborn, and as a licentiate, he could not be tortured without stripping his status. The Governor had sent a request to the Education Bureau to strip Mo Mo’s title, planning to arrest his family to break his resolve. He did not believe that the scholar, or his family, could remain so defiant.