Longevity - Chapter 44

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Chapter 44: Not a Single Step Comes Easy
The forest east of Seonghwang Temple was not far away.
Yet to Jangsheng, even that short distance seemed endless. He tapped the ground with his Parasol Tree Cane, felt for stones and roots with the tip of his foot, then shifted forward one deliberate step at a time.
Tears streamed continuously from his eyes. The smoke damage was partly to blame, but that wasn’t all.
Old Jeon had said that when dawn broke, he would go to the prefecture office to register in the household ledger. Jeon’s Wife had silently gathered the small child, who had been staring into the empty pot, into her arms; the older child watched him from beyond the firelight, as if trying to gauge how much Jangsheng had understood.
Four people who had walked together for days scattered in a single night.
Jangsheng wiped his eyes with his sleeve. They grew wet again almost at once.
When he reached the forest’s edge, he leaned his back against a large tree and slid down to sit. The moment his body touched the bark, pain erupted across his entire frame.

“Hgh…….”

The sound caught in his throat. Each time he drew breath, a sharp sting pierced his chest from within.
With trembling hands, Jangsheng reached up to touch his head. His fingers found no hair. Instead, blisters large and small covered his scalp.
His arms and chest, his belly—all the same. Where his clothes had burned away, the skin was puffed and swollen.
He recalled the Gold Wound Medicine

that Yeodoin had given him.
Jangsheng fumbled in his robes and found a small earthenware jar. Without sight, he couldn’t apply it to each wound. The Gold Wound Medicine could be taken internally, so he had no choice but to let it work from within to cool the fever and tend the injuries.
He pulled the stopper and brought the jar’s mouth to his lips.
A pungent smell stung his nostrils. The moment the powder touched his tongue, it flew down his throat.

“Cough!”

A violent fit seized him. Jangsheng hunched forward and coughed without respite, spitting every bit of the powder onto the ground.
The pain in his chest intensified. Tears and snot mingled and ran down his face.
Jangsheng sat motionless for a long time, the empty jar still clutched in his hand.

“Such precious medicine wasted…….”

Then he remembered the medicinal pills inside the Parasol Tree Cane.
The Mysterious Elixir Pill was stored outermost. He remembered the order he’d packed them in precisely enough that even without sight, there was little risk of taking the wrong one. For burns like these, that pill was most suited.
Jangsheng reached for the stopper at the cane’s end. His fingers felt along the opening, then stopped.
Gakjosan Mountain was still far away. How much forest and open road remained, how many soldiers and bandits, how many unseen illnesses and wounds—he couldn’t know.
He had only one Mysterious Elixir Pill.
He drew his hand back from the stopper.

“Let me wait until tomorrow.”

Tears continued to flow from his eyes. According to the Thousand Gold Prescriptions, this was a burned eye’s own response to rinse away heat and foreign matter. If he still saw nothing by tomorrow morning, he could take the Mysterious Elixir Pill then without being too late.
The decision was made, but the pain lessened not at all.
Jangsheng rested his hands on his knees, careful not to touch the blisters. Even sitting still, fire seemed to burn within his skin, and the mere brush of cloth made his head swim.
He couldn’t even breathe deeply. The smoke he’d inhaled in the flames seemed to have damaged his lungs. Shallow inhales and short exhales were all he could manage, yet even these made his chest tighten.
How long had he sat there?
A thin whine of wings reached his ear.
At first it was one or two mosquitoes. Soon they descended on his face and neck, the backs of his hands. Unable to find unmarred skin, they burrowed between the blisters and even around his eyes.
Jangsheng raised his hands to swat them, but his arm brushed a blister and he clenched his teeth.
He could not spend the night in the forest.
He grasped the tree and hauled himself up with effort. From memory, the walls of Bunyang Prefecture lay to the west of the forest.
Jangsheng felt his way forward with the cane and walked again.
A few steps, then rest. A few more steps, then his foot caught on a stone and his knee struck the ground. Each time he fell, he couldn’t properly brace his hands, afraid the blisters would burst.
He couldn’t tell how much time had passed.
Then a faint light flickered from on high.
Jangsheng stopped. Blurred by tears, but unmistakable—a yellow point floating in the darkness.
A torch on the city wall.

“I can see.”

His voice was hoarse, yet those words came through clear.
His blindness was not complete. There was a chance it would improve after he survived the night.
Jangsheng walked slowly toward the light. At last, the tip of his cane touched stone wall.
It was cold and hard to the touch.
He leaned his back against the city wall and sat down. There was no strength left in him to move a single finger.
The moment he closed his eyes, consciousness slipped away. The cane tilted at an angle in his grip and fell.
* * *
In the flames, an old tawny ox was crying out.
The men of Wanggakwang stacked dry wood and set fire to it. The ox still clung to life, and Jangsheng shoved through the crowd and threw himself into the blaze.

“Stop!”

He swept away the burning logs with his bare hands. His palms charred; flames caught at his sleeves. Yet smoke continued to rise from the ox’s body.
Jangsheng’s eyes opened from the searing pain.
Gray light spread across his vision.
At first he thought it was smoke from the dream. After blinking several times, the cracks in the stone wall and wild grass on the ground came into hazy focus.
The sun was up. From the city gate came the sound of cart wheels and footsteps.
Jangsheng slowly raised his hand and moved it before his eyes. He could make out the outline of his fingers.

“I’ve spared the medicine.”

He wouldn’t need the Mysterious Elixir Pill. If he could see, he could find herbs and tend his wounds himself.
He looked down at his arms. Large, transparent blisters rose across his skin like close-set knots. His face and scalp felt no different when he touched them.
Looking east, the place where Seonghwang Temple had stood was blackened and collapsed. Smoke still rose thinly from the ruins.
Jangsheng gazed at it for a moment, then leaned on his cane and got to his feet.
As he made his way toward the city gate, no one watched him for long. A refugee in a burnt garment and bearing wounds was not uncommon in Bunyang Prefecture. Even the guard at the gate did not stop him.
Once inside the city, Jangsheng first asked for directions to the western road.

“Follow the main road and it leads to Youzhou. Just avoid the north fork at the crossroads.”

After confirming the route, he made for the marketplace.
Two-ounce flatbread cost one copper coin each. Jangsheng bought two flatbreads and tucked them into his robe.
Tofu the size of a palm cost one coin as well. He purchased one block and ate it slowly standing beside the stall. It was not only to fill his belly. Tofu cooled the heat and restored qi; it eased the lungs damaged by smoke.
The shopkeeper, seeing Jangsheng’s charred clothes and the blisters on his head, wordlessly held out a bowl of soy milk.

“Drink this too.”

Jangsheng accepted the bowl with both hands.

“Thank you.”

As the lukewarm soy milk slid down his throat, the dry cough eased a little.
He moved through the marketplace, buying a small earthenware jar and half a jar of salt. Finally, he stopped before two dead weasels laid out by a hunter.

“You’re going to eat that?”

The hunter asked, as if puzzled.

“I’m going to make medicine from it.”

People shunned weasel meat, so the price was low. Jangsheng gave one coin and bought both animals.
What he needed was not the flesh but the oil. Badger oil was best for burns, but it was hard to find. The weasel was kin to the badger, so its oil had similar properties. It could be used to promote the growth of new flesh and reduce pain.
* * *
Five li west of the city, a small river appeared. Following the sound of water, a still surface emerged between the reeds.
Jangsheng crouched at the water’s edge and gazed into it.
Not a single strand of hair remained on his head. Blisters rose across the swollen, reddened scalp; his face in the water looked like a wandering monk afflicted with head ailment.
He moved upstream to avoid the eyes of others. As he removed his clothes, scorched fragments of fabric stuck to his skin peeled away with them.
The moment his body sank into the cold river water, his breath caught.

“Hah!”

Soon the heat drained swiftly from his entire body. The searing pain dulled briefly.
Before opening the blisters, Jangsheng washed away the ash, blood, and dirt from his body. Once he opened them, he could not enter water again, so he had to clean himself as thoroughly as possible now.
Whether from the cold water or the pain, his jaw trembled. Still, he swept his palm carefully across his skin, washing away the grime.
After climbing out of the river, he’d started to clean the weasel when he stopped.
He’d left the wooden knife at Seonghwang Temple.
Jangsheng looked around, then picked up a broken clam shell from the riverbank. He selected the sharper half and used it to skin the weasel and cut the meat.
He placed the weasel into an earthenware jar and poured water over it. From the Sophora japonica tree by the river, he plucked young leaves and added them as well. The leaves were common enough, but they cooled the liver’s heat, tempered the blood’s fever, and drew out poison.
He searched for honeysuckle but found none. Instead, he cut a bundle of mugwort. Though its heat-clearing power was weaker, once dried and burned, it could drive off mosquitoes.
He built a fire and let the mixture boil for nearly a double hour until the weasel’s meat and bone had softened. Jangsheng then submerged the jar in the river water to cool it.
The oil had solidified and risen to the surface.
He skimmed off only that layer into a small bowl and discarded the rest. The stench was sharp, but since it wasn’t meant for eating, it didn’t matter.
Now he had to lance the blisters.
Jangsheng heated the pointed end of the clam shell in the fire, then wiped it clean. He pressed it against the largest blister.

“One.”

The thin skin burst, and clear fluid ran down. Pain shot through his arm like lightning.
He clenched his teeth and moved to the next blister.
Arms, chest, belly, legs—wherever he could reach, he lanced each blister and pressed out the fluid inside. For the blisters on his head, he located them by touch alone.
He lost count of how many times his body convulsed.
Once he’d drained them all, he spread weasel oil across his entire body. For his back, where his hands couldn’t reach, he tied a cloth scrap to a branch and rubbed it there.
As the oil touched his skin, the burning sensation gradually cooled. The smell was foul, but easing the pain mattered more.
Jangsheng placed the mugwort near the fire to create smoke. Once he confirmed the mosquitoes were staying back, he gathered the remaining oil and the jar.
His clothes were burned full of holes, but he had nothing else to wear. He tied the hem as best he could, leaned on his cane, and continued walking west.
* * *
His eyes still hadn’t fully healed.
Whenever the mountain wind blew, tears fell, and distant people and trees blurred before him. Yet he could still make out the road’s direction.
Along the western path, refugees appeared here and there in scattered groups.
Jangsheng kept his distance from them.
He’d promised to protect the Jeon family, but he’d failed to save anyone. Now he had no strength to shelter others. If he walked alongside them and danger struck again, he’d only repeat the same helplessness.
Even when he spotted people on the roadside, he didn’t slow his pace.
Several columns of carts passed by, heading east. They carried sacks of grain, quivers of arrows, and dried grass. They seemed to be military provisions and supplies being sent to the front lines of Bunyang Prefecture.
The deeper he went west, the more evident the war’s passage became.
Fields lay strangled by weeds, and nine of every ten houses stood empty. Beside collapsed walls, fresh burial mounds stood in rows, and the roadside graves outnumbered the living travelers on the path.
Jangsheng walked from the Hour of the Snake through the approach of the Hour of the Rooster, yet he saw not a single intact village.
When the sun tilted beyond the mountains, he began to worry about where to sleep.
Then a small village appeared ahead. It lay perhaps two or three li distant.
Jangsheng quickened his pace. By the time he reached the village entrance, dusk had fallen. He stopped at the first house.
The roof and walls were undamaged. No char marks, no torn doors. Yet there wasn’t a single person in sight on the roads.
Every house had its door standing open.
Wind drifted through empty courtyards, creaking the doors slightly. No chickens crowed, no dogs barked.
It was stranger than burned ruins. If people had fled in haste, there would be traces of abandoned goods and livestock. Instead, the village lay in a silence as if someone had swept away all the people in a single moment.
Jangsheng tightened his grip on his cane. As he hesitated whether to enter or turn back, a faint flicker of light wavered in a courtyard ahead.
There was someone here. Jangsheng felt some reassurance and stepped into the village. The end of his cane tapped against the empty street below.
Tap. Tap.
He walked slowly toward the courtyard where light seeped through.

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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