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

Upon hearing the voice, Song You recognized the person as the Taoist boy who had warned him not to reveal the root of his illness and who had winked at him from the high platform.

He withdrew the flames from his palm, stepped forward, pulled off the latch, and opened the door.

Standing outside the door was the short Taoist boy, carrying a dusty, coarse cloth bag. When he saw Song You's face, a look of obvious astonishment appeared on his small face.

"You're still alive?" The young Taoist priest leaned forward, sniffing Song You's side. "It's the authentic scent of Lung Fire Technique, and the heat has been stabilized."

Song You took a half step back, cupped his hands in a salute, and said, "Thank you for your guidance on my Dao root, Senior Brother."

The young Taoist waved his hands repeatedly, the sack in his hand swaying as he said, "Don't call me senior brother, just call me Qing San. People like us are lay disciples of the temple, we can't cultivate immortality, we only take care of miscellaneous chores and worldly affairs."

Song You's gaze swept over Qing San's unusual bone structure, indicating that he couldn't cultivate immortality.

These young Taoist boys carried the mountain-like Elder of the Planting Stove with incredible speed, clearly not ordinary servants.

He didn't ask any more questions; the less you know about the secrets of this kind of place, the safer you are.

"Brother Qing San, did you come to see me because you have something to tell me?" Song You changed his form of address.

Qing San patted the cloth bag in his hand, grinned, revealing two rows of white teeth: "I thought you wouldn't make it through these three days, so I thought I'd come over early to clean the room so I could go back and rest. These days are always the busiest. We just finished cleaning the Transmission Hall, and we're exhausted."

The image of the hundreds of corpses in the Transmission Hall being swept away by the gust of wind flashed through Song You's mind, and he casually asked, "How was the Transmission Hall cleaned up?"

Qing San's smile deepened, but his eyes revealed a chill.

Song You immediately stopped talking, turned around and walked to the bed, taking out the thirty-odd copper coins covered in mud from under the pillow. Now he had nothing else, so he could only hold the copper coins and walk back to the door to hand them to Qing San: "Thanks for reminding me before, this is a small token of my appreciation."

Qing San's eyes lit up when he saw the worn-out copper coins: "These are good things, you really want to give them to me?"

Song You's heart skipped a beat. These mundane things actually had value in the Soul Treasury Temple?

He remained expressionless and continued to hand the copper coins forward, saying, "Please take them, young man."

Qing San sized up Song You a few times and then laughed out loud: "You're a smart man."

He stretched out two fingers, picked up a coin from the pile, and played with it between his fingertips.

"One is enough." Qing San turned and walked out, leaving Song You with just two words: "Prepare the medicine."

Watching Qing San walk away, Song You closed the door.

Boil the medicine.

These two words swirled in his mind a few times, and he realized that Qing San was giving him pointers.

Can copper coins be used to brew medicine?

Or perhaps these copper coins, tainted with the aura of the dead, are themselves a medicinal ingredient?

He recalled his experience in a modern hospital, where medicine could suppress the backlash from the root of the Tao. He thought that the Soul Treasury Temple should also have a way of using external objects to assist in cultivation.

He squatted down and dug a shallow hole in the mud under the bed with his bare hands, buried the remaining copper coins in it, and tamped them down with his feet.

After finishing these tasks, he sat cross-legged back on the bed and continued to work on refining the lung qi into external flames.

A day passed, and the sunlight shone into the room again. Song You opened his eyes and exhaled a long breath.

He had completely grown accustomed to the body's weakened state.

Muscles were sore and weak, and blood and qi were depleted, but the outer flame in the chest cavity burned more and more steadily, continuously providing an extraordinary amount of mental strength.

Heavy footsteps echoed in the courtyard, accompanied by a familiar hoarse cough.

"Come out." The elder's voice rang out from outside the door.

Song You got up and opened the door.

In the outer courtyard, several doors of the bungalows were quietly opened a crack, and several pairs of eyes peeked out from behind the cracks, looking over at this side. The earlier batches of immortal seedlings obviously wanted to see if any new ones had survived this year.

The outer elder stood in the courtyard and saw Song You come out, a hint of surprise flashing in his eyes.

He looked Song You up and down, his gaze lingering on his pale face for a moment before returning to his lifeless expression.

"He's got a tough life," the elder commented dryly.

He turned to look at the closed door next door and waited for a while, but there was no movement.

"Let's go." The elder gestured with his chin to Song You, preparing to lead him away.

"Squeak."

The wooden door next door was slowly pulled open.

Shen Lu slowly made her way out, supporting herself on the doorframe. Her already thin body was now even more emaciated, her cheeks deeply sunken, her cheekbones high, and her eyes dark. The coarse cloth clothes hanging on her body looked empty.

She gasped for breath, her voice weak: "Elder, I'm still alive."

The outer elder scanned Shen Lu from head to toe, his withered face devoid of any extra expression.

"Let's go." The elder in the outer room turned and strode away.

Song You followed behind, while Shen Lu gritted her teeth and moved forward using both hands and feet, afraid of falling behind even half a step.

The three walked through the withered bamboo forest in the outer courtyard. The bluestone slabs under their feet were covered with dark brown moss, making them wet and slippery. The entire Pozang Temple exuded a musty smell of old tombs.

After walking for the time it takes for an incense stick to burn, a low side hall appeared ahead. The hall door was wide open, and the inside was dark and gloomy.

The elder from the outer chamber stepped over the high threshold and walked to a long table inside the hall. On the table was a pile of black wooden plaques, and next to it was a rusty carving knife.

"Take your own nameplate and have it engraved on it," the elder in the outer room said, pointing to the long table.

Song You stepped forward and picked up a wooden plaque. The plaque was extremely light, its surface covered with fine holes, and it felt rough to the touch, like bone.

He picked up the carving knife and scratched two characters on the wooden plaque. Wood shavings fell in a flurry, and dark red sap seeped from the cut. Song You felt a connection between his lung fire and the plaque.

With trembling hands, Shen Lu carved her name.

"Once you have the badge, you're one of the people in the temple." The outer elder said with his hands behind his back, "The temple doesn't support idlers. If you're going to survive, you have to do something. Right now, we're short-handed everywhere. I'll only say the rules once."

The elder of the outer chamber raised a withered finger: "First, external posting. Go out of the temple to the mortal realm to harvest new seedlings and collect taxes for the temple. This job involves running around outside, which is free, but it's easy to encounter other diseases. If someone of your level encounters one, they will die a gruesome death."

He raised a second finger: "Second, breeding. Go to the vegetable garden behind the mountain; all the waste from those that didn't survive the seedlings is piled up there. You have to plant the new disease roots into the dead flesh, turning and watering it every day to encourage the production of new medicinal agents. That place has a heavy corpse aura; if you stay there too long, the fire in your lungs will easily be extinguished by the yin energy."

The third finger is raised: "Third, light the lamp. Go to the underground fire cave. There is an ever-burning lamp in the temple that needs someone to guard it. The lamp oil is your lung fire. You have to breathe fire into the lamp every day. If you feed it too little, the lamp will go out. If you feed it too much, you will be drained dry."

The elder from the outer chamber paused for a moment, then raised his fourth finger: "Fourth, decocting medicine. Go to the pharmacy to process the live and dead animals that are delivered, sort the medicinal materials, and decoct the medicine. Dealing with poisonous things all day long, if you are not careful, the evil can enter the body and burn through the internal organs."

All four paths were fraught with danger, and Song You's mind conjured up Qing San's face.

So this was the real hint.