The Immortal of Plague begins by establishing the root of lung fire.

A cold wind swept in from the entrance of Songjia Village, and the sky was gray and oppressive, making it hard to breathe.

In the distance, a procession was slowly approaching.

The group at the head of the group wore matching gray-blue Taoist robes and walked with a swaying gait.

Standing at the village entrance, even from a distance, Song You could smell a strong medicinal odor mixed with the stench of something rotting, making him want to vomit.

Behind them followed a dozen or so boys and girls of varying ages, all looking dejected.

The village chief, his thin hand gripping Song You's arm tightly, forced a toothless smile onto his face: "Song You, and the two of you, are both good children of the village, promising talents! Once you reach the immortal sect, cultivate diligently and don't forget our Song Family Village."

The village chief offered his congratulations, but his body was trembling slightly.

His gaze swept past Song You and the other two, fixed on the approaching procession. Song You could sense that the village chief was less giving instructions and more keeping an eye on them, as if afraid the three of them would run away.

Song You did not respond, but stood quietly, scrutinizing everything before him.

There was no one around except him and two other chosen children, standing alone at the village entrance.

He wasn't from this world. He was originally a medical student. During his endless residency training, everything went black. When he opened his eyes again, he was an orphan boy from a collateral branch of the family in Songjia Village. He helped with chores in the village so he wouldn't starve, and he even learned some characters at school.

Based on the fragmented memories in his mind, he knew that he had been chosen and had become a celestial seedling to bring glory to his ancestors.

This should have been a great blessing, but the villagers' attitude and the village chief's insincere blessings made the whole thing seem strange.

The other two chosen children, Song Xing and Song Yuan, were both children of poor peasants. Their parents secretly slipped them some dry food and a few copper coins, but Song You was left empty-handed and all alone.

The group finally arrived. The leader of the immortals stopped in his tracks. His face was even thinner than the village chief's, and his skin had an unnatural grayish hue.

When he opened his mouth, his voice was hoarse and grating.

Where are they?

"Elder of the Outer Chamber, all the Immortal Masters, are here." The village chief immediately bowed and pushed Song You and the other two forward.

The elder's gaze swept over the three of them, finally settling on Song You, his gaze devoid of any emotion.

The handover process was incredibly fast. The village chief didn't say a word, and the elders didn't make any unnecessary movements; they simply nodded.

The village chief felt as if he had been granted a pardon, and turned to walk back into the village, even staggering a little, not wanting to stay a moment longer.

Song You looked back and saw several pairs of eyes peeking out from the cracks in the windows behind the tightly closed doors of Songjia Village.

After seeing them being taken away by the immortal master, those heads quickly shrank back, and Song You vaguely saw smoke rising from the rooftops of several houses.

The village only came back to life after they left.

Turning his gaze away, Song You's last shred of hope vanished, and he began to ponder how to protect himself.

The team resumed their journey, with Song You positioned in the middle, surrounded by silent young boys and girls.

He noticed that the other villages he passed through were exactly the same as Songjia Village. Every household had its doors and windows tightly shut, and the streets were deathly quiet with not a single pedestrian in sight.

No one showed the envy they should have for the Miao team; the atmosphere was terribly oppressive.

At first, there were a few lively children in the group who kept talking excitedly.

But after walking for half a day, their voices gradually faded away and finally disappeared completely into the silence of their journey.

Anxiety and trepidation were written on everyone's face; their pitiful excitement had long been worn away by this bizarre journey.

Still needing to figure out the situation, Song You subtly moved closer to a girl walking beside him.

The girl was about seventeen or eighteen years old, and she was a bit more robust than Song You. She was wearing a faded cloth dress and clutching a worn-out cloth bag tightly in her hands.

"What's your name?" Song You asked softly.

The girl was startled and gave him a wary look.

"My name is Song You, from Songjia Village." Song You slowed his speech, making his voice sound calm and harmless. "Don't be afraid, I just want to ask if you know where we're going?"

This proactive way of striking up a conversation was something he honed in his previous life when communicating with patients. He would first state his identity, then ask a simple and harmless question, which made it easy to build rapport.

Perhaps it was Song You's composure that infected her, and the girl relaxed her guard a little. She answered in a voice as soft as a mosquito's buzz, "My name is Jiang Yangjiao. My grandfather said I'm going to a place called Po Cang Temple to cultivate immortality."

"Po Cang Guan." Song You repeated the name, feeling it wasn't very auspicious. He then asked, "Didn't your family say anything else? Like, what does cultivating immortality entail?"

Jiang Yangjiao's face suddenly turned deathly pale. She leaned closer, her voice lower and trembling, "I don't know, but of the three we sent from our village last year, none of them came back."

"The townspeople say they're not recruiting immortal seedlings, they're recruiting..."

She stopped, her lips trembling as she couldn't utter the word.

"What are you recruiting?" Song You pressed.

"Sick Canzi."

What does this mean?

These three words stirred a restless feeling within Song You.

Just then, a commotion suddenly broke out at the front of the column.

A chubby boy dressed in fine cloth clothes, whether he heard something or was completely overwhelmed by the atmosphere of despair, screamed, pushed away the people next to him, and turned to run back.

"I don't want to cultivate immortality, I want to go home, I want my parents!"

He cried and ran frantically back the way he came, using both his hands and feet.

The Taoist priests escorting the procession showed no reaction and continued walking slowly. Only the sickly elder at the head of the procession stopped, hunched over, and coughed violently.

"Cough cough cough, cough cough cough."

His cough was strange, accompanied by a tearing sound.

The chubby boy who had run away had only taken a dozen or so steps when his body suddenly stiffened, and he collapsed forward to the ground without warning. His limbs convulsed violently, white foam spilled from his mouth, and strange hoarse sounds came from his throat, but he could no longer get up.

The entire group stopped, and all the children watched in horror as a deathly silence enveloped everyone.

There was no dazzling light or earth-shattering momentum from any magical technique; it ended with just a few coughs.

After the leading elder finished coughing, he straightened up, glanced at the chubby boy lying on the ground, then slowly walked over, squatted down, and probed the chubby boy's neck.

Immediately, a look of joy appeared on his deadpan face.

"You're still alive? Not bad." He said hoarsely, "The root of the disease has been planted, and your health has been improved. You're a top-notch seedling."

After saying that, he took out a small porcelain bottle from his pocket, poured out a black pill, and put it into the little fat boy's mouth.

The chubby boy's convulsions gradually subsided, but he had already fainted. Two Taoist priests stepped forward and skillfully lifted him up.

Upon hearing the elder's words, a chill ran down Song You's spine. This immortal technique didn't seem to be used by a good person.

Is a seedling with the root of the disease already planted a top-quality seedling?

He could clearly see that the chubby boy's symptoms just now were just like those of an acute illness.

A terrifying thought formed in Song You's mind: what they might want might not be healthy, ordinary people at all.

Seeing the flush on Jiang Yangjiao's face, Song You stopped talking and began to ponder.

As the journey continued, the procession grew larger, and as they passed through each region, more and more people from other villages and towns joined them.

The expressions on the children's faces changed from initial bewilderment and excitement to later fear and numbness, and finally to utter despair.

The team grew from a few dozen people to a large group of two to three hundred.

The immortal master's cough became a sword hanging over everyone's head, killing any thought of escape before it even began.

Before sunset, the group finally arrived at their destination, a Taoist temple built halfway up the Yinshan Mountain.

The Taoist temple is entirely built of black mountain stones. The temple gate is tightly closed, and there are no guards at the entrance, only two mottled stone lions.

Above the Taoist temple hangs a huge black plaque with three large, flamboyant characters written in cinnabar. The characters have been stained with the passage of time, but the color remains a deep, dark black.

We've arrived at the Soul Treasury Temple.