I started on a deserted island and encountered Ying Zheng, who insisted I was an immortal.

Meng Yi was out of breath from running, carrying a large bunch of messy weeds in his arms. Some of them were what Zhang Ying had described, while others were completely irrelevant.

"Sir... herbs... herbal medicine..."

Zhang Ying didn't bother to say anything to him and started picking through the pile of grass.

He accurately sorted out several plants with long, thin leaves like snake tongues, several with spiraling patterns on their stems, and several with tiny white flowers that smelled pungent.

"Snake tongue grass, coiled dragon grass, beggar-ticks..."

He muttered to himself as he shoved the selected herbs into Wang Ben's hands.

"Chew it thoroughly."

Wang Ben took the handful of herbs, still covered in dirt, and without even looking at them, stuffed them into his mouth, his cheeks bulging as he chewed them with all his might.

An indescribable mixture of bitterness, sourness, and spiciness exploded in his mouth, even more potent than the aftertaste of the chili pepper he had just eaten.

He didn't even frown.

Soon, he spat a dark green herbal paste into his palm.

"Swallowing the juice will do you good," Zhang Ying added.

Then, he took the herbal paste and carefully applied it to Ying Zheng's wound. He then tore clean strips of cloth from his ripped trousers and carefully bandaged the wound, wrapping it around and around.

After doing all this, Zhang Ying finally let out a long breath and plopped down on the ground.

After completing a full first aid procedure, he was more exhausted than anyone else.

"I... am I alright?" Ying Zheng's voice came, weak but with much more energy.

"You won't die," Zhang Ying replied irritably. "Eat more meat for the next two days to replenish your protein. You might get a fever, but it's a minor issue."

With the help of Wang Ben and Meng Yi, Ying Zheng managed to sit up straight.

He looked at Zhang Ying, a young man shrouded in layers of mystery.

He knows how to farm, raise pigs, make paper, and write poetry... Now, he's even proficient in medicine?

If this isn't a great sage, then what is it?

"Sir, are you truly a celestial being?" Ying Zheng asked the question once again, his tone more certain than ever before.

Zhang Ying's head was throbbing from listening to them; he felt that talking to these people was almost driving his brain astray.

"Brother, if I were a god, would I need to go through all this trouble?"

He pointed to the bloodstains and herb residue on the ground.

"I'll just point it at your leg, *biu*, a flash of divine light, and the wound will heal, understand?"

Zhang Ying casually made a sarcastic remark.

Ying Zheng, however, seized upon the loophole in his words.

"How do you know, sir, that a deity can save someone with just a 'flash of divine light'?"

"I..." Zhang Ying was caught off guard by the question.

I was reading novels!

Is it okay to say that?

They wouldn't understand even if I explained it to them!

Seeing that he was speechless, Ying Zheng became even more certain of his guess.

He connected all the clues.

This person fell from the sky.

This person possesses countless divine objects.

This person speaks eloquently and possesses astonishing poetic talent.

This person is also well-versed in medicine and knowledgeable in Taoist practices.

Therefore, even if he is not a true deity, he must have a great connection with the celestial realm!

"Sir, you must be a disciple of an immortal." Ying Zheng's voice carried an uncontrollable heat.

Zhang Ying was so bothered by him that she had no choice but to give up.

Looking at Ying Zheng, Wang Ben, and Meng Yi, whose faces seemed to say, "I believe you, just admit it," he suddenly felt incredibly tired.

Forget it.

Destroy it.

Whatever.

He decided to give up entirely, his face displaying a sorrowful expression as he gazed at the sky at a 45-degree angle.

"Oh well, never mind."

He sighed deeply and spoke slowly in a tone that suggested he had experienced many hardships.

"To tell you the truth, I was originally a minor official in the Heavenly Realm."

"Just because he drank a few too many cups at the Peach Banquet three years ago, he accidentally broke the Jade Emperor's glass cup, violating the heavenly rules, and was banished to the mortal world."

"All his magical power was taken away, and he has been trapped on this island, suffering the hardships of the mortal world for three years."

After he finished speaking, he almost threw up.

What is all this about? It's so awkward.

However, the three people opposite were completely dumbfounded.

Wang Ben's panda eyes widened, his mouth formed an "O" shape, and he had a look of sudden realization.

That's it!

That makes sense!

The gentleman is no ordinary person; he is a deity who was banished to the mortal realm for violating heavenly rules!

Meng Yi was also shocked.

He recalled the poems Zhang Ying had recited before: "I entrust my sorrowful heart to the bright moon, to follow the wind all the way to the west of Yelang," and "Life in this world is full of disappointments; tomorrow I will let my hair down and drift away in a small boat."

That transcendent and otherworldly mood, yet tinged with the melancholy of exile, is something no ordinary person could write.

He had always looked down on those sorcerers who spouted nonsense, but Zhang Ying was different.

What Zhang Ying brought out was real grain, a divine substance that could sustain millions of people!

He's a truly capable person!

Now, all of this has the most reasonable explanation.

Looking at the three of them who believed it so wholeheartedly, Zhang Ying felt a wave of dizziness.

He felt he could no longer stay with these people suffering from severe delusions.

I'll become a lunatic sooner or later.

As dusk fell, the setting sun shone like blood.

Wang Ben carried the ailing Ying Zheng on his back, with Meng Yi following behind. The three of them trudged along the sandy beach, heading back towards the cave.

Zhang Ying walked at the front, mentally planning the menu for the evening.

Old Ying's leg was bitten by a snake, so he needs to replenish some high-quality protein.

Back in the cave, Zhang Ying skillfully started a fire and set up the earthenware pot that he had spent more than a month making.

The pot is a bit rudimentary, but at least it works.

Soon, a powerful aroma wafted from the pot.

Braised pork ribs, tender and juicy with a rich, savory sauce.

Spicy stir-fried eel slices, savory, slightly spicy, and with a crisp texture.

Sweet and sour carp, crispy on the outside and tender on the inside, with a sweet and sour flavor that whets the appetite.

There was also a plate of cucumber stir-fried with eggs, its color a beautiful golden yellow and emerald green, with a refreshing aroma.

When the four dishes were placed on the stone table, the three leaders of the Qin Dynasty were completely dumbfounded.

They stood around the stone table like three naive groundhogs, their mouths agape enough to fit an egg.

Even in the homes of royalty and nobility, such dishes were unavailable in the Qin Dynasty.

The Qin people cooked by either steaming, boiling, or roasting directly over a fire.

This cooking method, which involves cutting ingredients into small pieces and quickly tossing them in a pot, was something they had never heard of before.

Zhang Ying's earthenware pot, which she had worked so hard to make, could not compare to a modern iron pot, but it was still able to achieve the "stir-frying" technique.

Ironware was still a rarity in the Qin Dynasty, and the iron produced was brittle and hard, far from being widely available.

"Eat up, what are you looking at?" Zhang Ying handed each person a pair of chopsticks.

The three of them snapped out of their daze, picked up their chopsticks, and pounced on the dishes on the table like madmen.

The chopsticks flew up and down, leaving only the sounds of chewing and swallowing.

Wang Ben ate with the most hearty manner; he stuffed a piece of pork rib into his mouth and spat out the bone in a few seconds.