Wild cultivation begins with wielding the Taiyin talisman.

Mr. Qian glanced at him but didn't ask any further questions.

Ning Che returned to his room and inventoried everything one by one. There were twenty spirit stones, each one crystal clear; the herbs were, of course, also quite valuable. The five million silver notes were undoubtedly a huge sum.

He donated three million yuan directly to the free clinic.

The silver notes in this world, if translated literally, should be called money notes. They are very similar in nature to bank checks, and can be used to withdraw a corresponding amount of money from a money exchange. It seems that this also shows that commerce in this world is quite developed.

However, influenced by some works from his previous life, Ning Che still habitually called it a silver note.

He pondered for a moment, put his things away, and then grasped a spirit stone. He began his cultivation.

For the next two weeks or so, apart from going to the mountains to complete a formality, he spent the rest of his time in ascetic practice.

This is a leave application procedure.

He was seriously injured in the line of duty, and with Yu Congrong's approval, things went very smoothly. Not only would he not have to go on any missions for a long time afterward, but he would also receive an extra subsidy, amounting to half of his regular pay.

Regardless of the hidden undercurrents, Mu Qingming maintained his standard smiling face and even personally praised him, saying that all the mountain guardians should learn from him.

Ning Che had no idea what he was up to, so he just gave a couple of perfunctory replies and let it go.

Because of the ample funding, the free clinic was renovated and now has its own storefront, with medicine available for sale nearby.

Although at least half of the patients are poor people who cannot afford the medication, and the drug prices are set low, the free clinic naturally cannot make any profit and is still in a state of deficit.

But if things continue like this, it should be able to stay open for at least another ten or eight years without any problem.

By then, Ning Che was confident that he would be at least a sixth or seventh-grade expert. Even if the free clinic resulted in a greater loss, surely he could afford to support them?

He has many things he wants to do, but improving his skills is always the prerequisite for doing them.

Unfortunately, a peaceful life of cultivation seemed like a luxury for him.

On this day, Ning Che was cultivating in his room. The spiritual energy in the Yuan Stone flowed slowly along his meridians, and the "door" that was faintly visible in his dantian seemed to have loosened a little more.

This feeling is subtle, like an extremely thin membrane that could be punctured at any moment, yet stubbornly remains there.

Just as he was about to circulate his internal energy and attempt to break through the barrier, he heard someone urgently knocking on the door.

"Brother Xing, are you there?"

It's Zhao He.

Ning Che opened his eyes and ended his practice.

"Brother Xing, something's happened." Zhao He pushed open the door and came in, his face unusually tense. "Someone's dead in Liutang Village, ninety miles west of the city."

Ning Che stood up, putting on his coat as he asked, "How did you die?"

"They say it's a strange disease. The fever started the day before yesterday, the skin started to rot yesterday, and three people died this morning. The village doctor couldn't figure it out, so he came to the city for treatment."

But doctors in the city charge exorbitant fees, and even though they came in a hurry, they couldn't raise enough money. They heard about our free clinic and came to see us. Dr. Qian diagnosed it as being related to rats.

He still seemed terrified when he spoke of rats, and Ning Che's expression turned serious as well.

Of course, he's on vacation now, so he shouldn't have to worry about these things.

But he always remembered the vow he had made.

The longer a strange disease goes untreated, the more people die. If he didn't know, fine, but if he did know, how could he just stand by and do nothing?

"Let's go to the free clinic."

The two quickened their pace and arrived at East Street, where the newly renovated free clinic tent was already surrounded by people, three layers deep.

With its green tiles and wooden beams, the brand-new medicine cabinets are neatly arranged, making it look much more impressive than its previous shabby appearance.

Several newly recruited apprentices weaved in and out of the crowd, grabbing and wrapping medicine, their feet barely touching the ground. A dozen or so earthenware pots bubbled on the stove, their rich aroma mingling with the sounds of people, wafting far and wide.

At the very back of the shed, Old Qian was taking the pulse of an old man who was coughing so hard he was about to pass out, his brows furrowed in worry.

Ning Che spotted the three farmers squatting on the bench in the corner of the shed at a glance.

The one leading the group was the one who had brought the news; he was holding his head in his hands, sobbing quietly with each sob. The other two were also ashen-faced, their eyes vacant, radiating despair.

At their feet, a young man leaned against a pillar, panting heavily.

The young man's face was burning red, and several shiny blisters had appeared on his exposed arms. He seemed to be tormented by something, unconsciously reaching out to scratch, until his skin was torn and bleeding, but he was completely unaware of it.

"Old Qian." Ning Che walked over.

Old Qian looked up and saw it was him. He sighed heavily and nodded his chin at the dazed young man: "Take a look for yourself. I just took his pulse. It's all jumbled up. It's not a cold, nor is it a common plague. He ran out with the villagers last night and walked for three hours. He got blisters here."

Ning Che squatted down, said nothing, and gently lifted the young man's sleeve.

The blisters were more terrifying than he had imagined.

Beneath the transparent surface, a ring of blackish base color could be seen, and it was frighteningly hot to the touch. He moved closer, and a very faint, pungent, putrid smell entered his nostrils.

This smell... is about 70% similar to the smell of those dead rats in the rat swamp.

Ning Che's eyes narrowed, and he turned to ask the farmer who had brought the news, "How many other people in the village are like this?"

The farmer suddenly raised his head, his eyes bloodshot, his voice hoarse like a broken gong: "Dead! Three are already dead! There are eight more lying in bed unable to get up!"

The earliest case started burning the day before yesterday. The village doctor said there was no hope and told us to prepare for the worst... We had no other choice. We heard there was a free clinic in the city, so we came here!

Before he finished speaking, with a "thump," he knelt straight down on the ground and kowtowed to Ning Che and Old Qian.

"Doctor! Guardian of the mountain! Please, please save our village! If it's any later... if it's any later, there will really be no one left!"

The other two villagers also knelt down and kowtowed repeatedly, their foreheads hitting the bluestone slab with a loud thud.

The previously noisy sounds in the shed instantly fell silent, and everyone's eyes were drawn to it.

Old Qian quickly helped Ning Che up, pulled him aside, and said in a low voice, "Ning Che, don't get involved in this. You're still on vacation, and your right arm injury hasn't fully healed."

"Liutang Village is over ninety li away. Not only is it a hassle to travel back and forth, but that disease is extremely virulent. What if you catch it too? I've already sent someone to inform the mountain guardians; they'll send someone to handle it."

"By the time they send someone, it will be at least this afternoon." Ning Che shook his head, his gaze falling on the young man who kept groaning.

"Professor Qian, I have to go. Isn't this the very meaning of our free clinic?"