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

The ground crew nodded and bowed: "Understood, Mr. Bharat."

"Keep a close eye on these boxes." Bharat pointed to several large boxes in the warehouse. "No one is allowed to rummage through them or search them without authorization. If even one box is missing, your whole family will be out of business in Khalidwa."

After Bharat finished speaking, he led his men to a black sedan parked some distance away, and the ground crew began to untie the securing straps in the cargo hold.

Song You stared at the largest wooden crate. He had pried open a corner of the crate before, and it was quite spacious inside, with enough room for a person to fit through the gap in the middle.

These illicit goods would be sent directly to private warehouses without being inspected en route, which was the best way for him to leave.

Two ground staff members were dragging the outer suitcase with their backs to Song You.

Song You lowered his center of gravity and slid along the metal floor using both his hands and feet. His movements were extremely fast and made no sound.

Reaching the large wooden crate, Song You grabbed the edge of the planks with both hands, used the leverage to flip over and squeeze through the gap.

The box was filled with the smell of masala. Song You curled up without making a sound. Then the wooden box was lifted and placed on a moving cart. As the cart wheels rolled, Song You adjusted his breathing in the darkness.

After a short wait, a clattering sound came from outside the wooden crate. Several ground staff members pulled on the straps to lift the crate onto the truck and secured the goods in the cargo compartment. No one dared to say anything during this time. After unloading the goods, they left immediately.

The engine started, and the car vibrated as it drove out of the airport.

Song You adjusted his breathing inside the wooden box, his lung qi circulating through his meridians. Now his body was full of energy and able to tolerate the polluted environment.

Ten minutes later, the car speed increased, and the wind blew in through the gaps in the wooden planks. Song You used one hand to push the planks above him outward with force.

The wooden planks made a slight rubbing sound. He moved them aside and looked out through the crack. There was no one at the back of the carriage, only a dozen or so large wooden crates tied together.

Song You used his arms to push aside the wooden planks, rolled over, crawled out, and then repacked the crates. He crouched in the shadows between the two crates, calculating when to leave.

But as the truck drove on, the scenery outside changed.

High-rise buildings and asphalt roads gradually disappeared, and trucks drove onto a bumpy, muddy road.

The wheels rolled over the gravel, causing the vehicle to bounce violently. The road was lined with thick trees on both sides.

This road is off-center from the city; the goods are being transported to a remote area.

The poor road conditions forced the vehicle to slow down, and the engine ran in a low gear, making a dull sound.

Song You peered out and saw a high wall at the end of the road. The wall was made of gray cement and had several barbed wire fences strung on top. Inside the high wall was a row of large, connected tin warehouses.

Behind the warehouse, the outline of a vast manor came into view.

The three-story main building, with its white-painted exterior and several off-road vehicles parked in the yard, appears to be Bharat's secluded private residence.

The warehouse doors were wide open, and several Indian men in security uniforms leaned against the doorposts smoking. They had stun guns hanging from their waists, were passing cigarettes to each other, and were talking loudly.

When other vehicles entered, no one came forward to check them; the gate barriers weren't even lowered, and the cars drove straight through the gate.

With lax security, this group of people, accustomed to running rampant in this area, were completely unprepared.

The car turned and prepared to enter the gate, slowing down to its lowest speed.

Song You braced himself against the edge of the carriage with one hand, spotted a patch of grass by the roadside, flipped over and jumped down. His feet touched the mud, and he rolled forward twice to dissipate the impact.

His suit was covered in mud, and he got up and darted into the bushes by the roadside.

As soon as he stepped into the jungle, a strong sense of dizziness rushed to his head, and Song You realized that he was about to return to Po Cang Temple.

You can't fall in the jungle. Wild dogs and venomous snakes are common in the Indian wilderness, and there are patrols around. Going back here directly is very dangerous. I don't know what will happen next.

His gaze locked onto a banyan tree in front of him that would take three people to encircle, and he quickly walked over and squatted down at the base of the tree.

He mobilized the external flames within his chest cavity, and exhaled grayish-white flames from his mouth, directly scorching the thick tree roots. The woody fibers rapidly turned to ash and carbonize under the lung fire, turning into a pile of powder.

Within a dozen breaths, a hole large enough for one person appeared at the base of the tree.

Song You crawled inside and curled up.

He used his hands to scoop up the surrounding soil and fallen leaves to cover the entrance of the hole.

After doing all this, darkness completely swallowed his vision, and the feeling of weightlessness pulled him down continuously.

I opened my eyes and returned to the bungalow in the outer courtyard of Po Cang Temple. Grayish-white light shone through the paper windows; it was just dawn.

Song Youchang let out a long breath; this trip to India had been very fruitful.

Bharat's private warehouse must have contained a large amount of smuggled goods.

High-calorie meats, various medicines, and possibly even firearms—these were the resources he used to repair his body's leaks and establish himself in the Po Zang Temple.

As long as he makes good use of the time difference between the two worlds, he can completely use that warehouse as his logistics base.

As for the Americans and Bharat's scheme against Ruikang Pharmaceuticals, they will find a device in India and anonymously leak it to Meng Wenyuan.

He returned the favor, and Meng Wenyuan became wary, turning around and biting Balat. With this group biting each other, he might be able to gain more benefits from the situation.

Song You got out of bed, straightened his coarse cloth Taoist robe, tucked the "Illustrated Catalogue of Herbs" into his bosom, and went out the door.

The door next door turned, and Shen Lu came out.

Her face had lost some of its ashen color and gained a healthy glow. Last night, Song You had instructed her to use her lung qi to envelop her inner flames, and she had mastered it.

Shen Lu walked up to Song You and bowed.

"Senior brother, my fire has burst forth," Shen Lu said.

"Hmm, not bad," Song You replied.

"Thank you for your guidance, senior brother."

"Keep working hard. You're no worse than anyone else." Song You felt the surging flames within him and stepped outside. "Let's go."

Shen Lu followed behind, her steps lighter. The two passed through the withered bamboo forest, and along the way they could see other outer disciples hurrying by. There weren't many of them, maybe ten or so.

The pharmacy's courtyard gate was wide open, and the smell of medicine was overwhelming.

In the courtyard, the fire in the stove glowed a pale green, and several outer disciples were still fanning the flames with palm-leaf fans, their coughs rising and falling. Shen Lu consciously walked to the woodpile in the corner and picked up an axe to chop wood.

Song You stepped across the threshold and entered the inner room. The light was dim, and several people were standing in front of the medicine cabinet. Jiang Yangge was checking the account books by the table. He looked up at Song You but did not say anything.

Song You walked to the corner from yesterday and prepared to sit down. Several gazes fell on his back. Unlike yesterday, today's gazes were undisguisedly aggressive.

Song You turned his head and saw three unfamiliar faces standing next to the medicine cabinet, dressed in the robes of outer disciples.

It seems that these are the people from Elder Zhongzao's side. The leader is tall and has black spots on half of his face. He stares at Song You and plays with a guillotine for cutting herbs.

"You're Song You?"