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

It was a fine cloth short shirt, made of a much better material than the coarse cloth clothes of ordinary people. Although the clothes were stained dark brown with blood, Song You recognized it clearly.

This is the clothing worn by the chubby boy who ran away halfway to Pozang Temple and was fed pills by Elder Zhongzao.

At that time, Jia Chunfang squatted down and felt the little fat boy's neck, saying that his illness had taken root and he was a good seedling. Now, this good seedling's clothes were hanging in the tanning yard to absorb blood and water, with a wrinkled piece of leather on top.

The outcome is self-evident.

Perhaps the chubby boy couldn't bear the agony of the burning wounds and died, or perhaps for some other reason, he ultimately died, with no hope for the future.

Song You withdrew his gaze. Survival was the most important thing. He would survive by any means necessary and cultivate himself to a point where he would no longer be threatened by others.

He turned his head and carefully searched the surrounding shelves. He didn't see Jiang Yangjiao's faded clothes, so Song You stopped worrying about them and focused his attention back on selecting leather.

Song You reached out and pinched a grayish-brown animal hide in the third row. He repeatedly kneaded the hide with his thumb and forefinger to examine the thickness and elasticity between the epidermis and the dermis. This hide had not been baked or sun-dried, but was treated by air-drying. The fiber structure was tight, the tension was uniform when stretched, and there was no damage at the edges.

"Senior brother, I choose this one." Song You took the animal skin off the hemp rope.

Jiang Yangge stepped forward, reached out and touched the back of the hide twice, then nodded in approval: "Good eye. This is the belly skin of an adult wild boar. It's tough enough, and after drying in the shade, it's quite cool, making it perfect for practice."

The two men took the animal hides and followed the same path back to the inner hall of the pharmacy.

Song You, walking behind, casually asked, "Senior brother, what grade is that Winter Return Medicine Pouch you took out when you exchanged things with Gong Ba in the temple?"

Upon hearing this, Jiang Yangge's face relaxed, and a hint of pride appeared on his face: "That's a mid-grade fifth-class item."

"Fifth grade, medium quality." Song You repeated.

"The craft of making medicine pouches is far more demanding than the craft of brewing medicine," Jiang Yangge said, turning his head to the side. "Ordinary outer disciples who can make fifth-grade low-quality medicine are enough to establish themselves in the pharmacy. As for fifth-grade mid-quality medicine, one usually needs to have reached the mid-stage of firewood cultivation, with a strong internal flame that can withstand long-term, delicate burning, in order to even meet the threshold."

Song You chimed in at just the right moment: "Senior brother previously said that his cultivation was just approaching the mid-stage of the Firewood realm. Even though he hasn't broken through yet, he can still sew a mid-grade fifth-rank item. His craftsmanship is indeed superb."

Upon hearing this, Brother Jiang quickened his pace, still explaining, "Sewing leather is not like boiling medicine. Boiling medicine depends on the heat and the formula, while sewing leather depends on the precise control of the heat. If the stitches go slightly astray, or the heat is interrupted for a moment, the entire piece of leather becomes waste."

"It's common for beginners to waste nine out of ten sheets of paper. Only those who have a solid foundation in the early stages and steadily improve their skills have a chance to grasp the essentials of getting started."

Song You listened to this and secretly assessed his own situation.

He devoured a large amount of high-calorie food in the cold storage of Bharat, replenishing the deficiencies in his body. His initial cultivation level was already stable, and the fourth gap in his body was suppressed by the enormous blood pressure, showing no signs of forming. In terms of the solidity of his initial cultivation level alone, he was no less than any other disciple of the same level in the temple.

"Thank you for your guidance, senior brother. I will try my best," Song You replied.

The two stepped back into the inner room. Jia Chunfang was still sitting cross-legged on the wooden couch in the back. Song You stepped forward and placed the grayish-brown wild boar belly skin flat on the low wooden table in front of the couch.

Jia Chunfang raised her eyelids, glanced at the animal hide, picked up a white bone needle about an inch long and a small ball of black hemp thread soaked in medicinal oil from the wooden box beside her, and casually threw them on the wooden table.

"Thread the needle." Jia Chunfang's voice was dry. "Draw your outer flame onto the needle tip and sew this piece of leather together to form a three-inch-long empty bag."

Song You picked up the bone needle and deftly threaded the hemp thread through the eye of the needle with both hands, tying a knot at the end.

Then, a wisp of grayish-white flame was emitted and traveled along the meridians of the arm, reaching the fingertip of the right hand, and then flowing into the white bone needle along the fingertip.

A faint grayish-white light emanated from the tip of the bone needle. Song You pressed down on both ends of the animal hide with his left hand, folding it together, and then used his right hand to pierce the edge of the hide with the needle.

The moment the needle touched the leather, it felt strange. This leather was not simply dry; the internal fibers were sticky and tight with great resistance, as if it had been soaked in some kind of medicine beforehand, making it impossible to penetrate it in one go.

Song You tightened his wrist muscles and exerted force through his knuckles, using the deep needle insertion technique used in surgical suturing, inserting the needle at a slightly oblique angle, and then pushing his wrist inward along the curve of the needle.

The bone needle pierced precisely through two layers of thick skin, and the grayish-white flame carried by the needle tip burned at the needle hole, instantly melting and sintering the torn skin and flesh fibers to seal the hole.

Once the needle is in place, the second needle follows immediately. With the added sensory enhancement, it's even easier to do.

Song You's stitching was extremely steady, but after sewing only an inch or so, a hollow, pulling pain came from his chest.

Having previously boiled the lung-clearing powder twice, more than half of his internal energy had been depleted. Now, he had to maintain a continuous flow of energy into the bone needles while controlling the flames at the needle tips to prevent them from burning through the skin, resulting in far greater energy expenditure than expected. The grayish-white flames at his fingertips began to flicker, shrinking to the size of a grain of rice.

Above the wooden couch, Jia Chunfang watched this scene unfold. Her withered fingers reached into her bosom, pulled out a ball of dark green, viscous medicine, and tossed it onto the wooden table in front of Song You.

"Swallow it," Jia Chunfang ordered.

The clump of medicine emitted a strong, pungent, fishy smell and stuck to the wooden table.

Without the slightest hesitation, Song You grabbed the dark green pill and stuffed it into his mouth. After a few chews, he swallowed it. The pill instantly transformed into a scorching wave of heat in his stomach. The outer flame, which had been dim, was violently irrigated by this external force and swelled up dramatically.

Despite the sudden, sharp pain in his lungs, Song You relied on his stable muscle control to fuse the continuous locking suture technique from modern suturing with the outer flame sintering.

Ten breaths later.

Song You retracted his wrist, the bone needle severed the hemp thread at the end, and the flames on his fingertips burned away the remaining embers.

A neatly trimmed, grayish-brown leather pouch lay on the wooden table. The entire pouch was seamless, and a faint grayish-white glow shimmered on its surface without any leakage.

Song You put down the bone needles, placed his hands on his knees, and calmed the surging anger in his chest.

Jia Chunfang stretched out her withered hand and grabbed the leather bag on the table.

He held the leather bag up to his eyes, pressed his two rough thumbs against the seam, and tore it outwards with force. The seam was perfectly sealed, without even a pinhole showing.

Silence fell over the inner room.

Jia Chunfang's cloudy eyes moved from her skin to Song You's face and stared at him for a long time.

"Where did you learn to sew before?" Jia Chunfang asked.

Song You lowered his head and spoke slowly: "Master, I have no father or mother. I grew up in the village eating food from many families. The tattered clothes I wear are all sewn by myself with hemp thread. The more I sew, the more steady my hands become."

After hearing these words, Jia Chunfang let out a strange, hoarse laugh from her dry throat.

"It's not surprising that you mended it yourself." Jia Chunfang tossed the leather bag back onto the table. "What surprises me is that you didn't actually use any external tools."

Upon hearing the words "external things," Song You became alert.

Jia Chunfang leaned back against the wooden couch, her tone turning cold: "You've only been a student for a few days, yet you've mastered the techniques quickly, have an uncanny memory for pharmacology, and can even brew medicine twice. I've been wondering if you're hiding some strange object brought in from outside the mountains, or if you've swallowed some treasure that can enhance your mind."

Song You's back tightened slightly. This old monster had never believed in talent from the very beginning. Today's skin-stitching exercise was not only a test of skill, but also a way to probe his true abilities by consuming his outer flames and forcing him to swallow potent medicinal food midway through.

If he relied on some kind of concealment device, under the drastic changes of the outer flames being exhausted and the strong medicine hitting his lungs, he would inevitably lose his balance and reveal his presence.

The clean and efficient suturing he was performing relied on the memories ingrained in his bones from thousands of suturing training sessions in his previous life. The theory was also something he had memorized by taking advantage of the time difference in his past life. All of this was his own skill, without any trace of external objects.

If he had shown any weakness just now, or if he really had some kind of magical treasure, what would be lying on the wooden table now would most likely be his dissected body.

"This disciple relies entirely on Master's teachings and my own diligent practice; there is absolutely no external assistance," Song You replied, clasping his hands in a fist salute.

As soon as he finished speaking, the scorching heat that had surged in his lungs abruptly stopped, and a heavy emptiness came from deep within his chest. The remaining outer flames rapidly shrank, and even the muscles in his limbs became weak and sore, causing him to sway forward.

Song You groaned and almost fell over.

"Stand still." Jia Chunfang glanced at him. "Weakness is normal. The pill of Tizang Shan that I just gave you was a secret medicine to stimulate your Dao root. It can raise your internal energy by 30% in a short time, but once the effect wears off, you will be powerless and your body will be depleted for a few days."

Song You regulated his breathing and used the strength of his waist and abdomen to stabilize his upper body: "Disciple understands."

Now that he has passed this test, his position in the pharmacy is truly established. However, these elders are very shrewd, so he still cannot let his guard down.

"You're quick-witted and steady-handed. You've met my requirements. Very good." Jia Chunfang reached into the box beside the wooden bed, pulled out two identical dark green medicinal herbs wrapped in withered leaves, and tossed them directly to Song You's lap.

"Take these two medicinal meals; keep them to save your life," Jia Chunfang instructed. "For the next two days, you don't need to come in for roll call. Go back and rest well to recover from the damage to your body."

"Thank you for the medicine, Master." Song You picked up the medicine packet and put it in his pocket. Although these two doses of Tibetan food had the aftereffects of overdraft, they were extremely useful trump cards in critical moments.

"There's one more thing," Jia Chunfang waved her hand. "Now that you've officially become my successor, you can go and collect your monthly stipend as an elder disciple. Go to the place where they carved your name tags on the day you entered the sect, and don't forget to collect it."

After giving her explanation, Jia Chunfang looked at Jiang Yangge, who was kneeling beside her.

"Brother Jiang Yang".

Jiang Yangge trembled slightly and quickly kowtowed, saying, "Here."

"Take him to the back storeroom and let him choose a medicine furnace that suits his needs." Jia Chunfang closed her eyes and stopped looking at the two of them.

Jiang Yangge got up from the ground, his face still stiff.

Watching Song You, with his anger completely exhausted, sew a medicine pouch perfectly on his first try, Jiang Yangge was greatly shocked. Such skill was comparable to that of a veteran pharmacist with three years of experience. Could there really be such a genius?

Jiang Yangge sighed inwardly, then thought of the book he had obtained last time, which mentioned that ancient immortals could cultivate their divine bodies and, upon reaching the Nascent Soul stage, could even project their spirits out of their bodies and become proficient in everything. However, this matter was too far off, and he needed to find a way to obtain the Qi Induction Method.

He dismissed these thoughts and led the way, his steps much heavier than before: "Junior Brother Song, follow me."

The two walked out of the inner hall, through a narrow passage, and arrived at a storeroom in the backyard built of heavy stone bricks.

Jiang Yangge took out an iron key from his waist, pried open the heavy padlock, and pushed open the two thick wooden doors with iron-edged edges.

A musty smell of smoke and rust wafted out from inside the door.

By the light from the passageway, one could see that in the square stone house, there were two sturdy elm wood shelves against the wall, with twenty or thirty bronze medicine furnaces of different sizes arranged in a staggered manner.

"Junior brother," Jiang Yangge stepped aside and pointed to the shelves in the room, "the medicine furnaces in here are all accumulated by the pharmacy over the years. Since the elder has given the word, you can choose whatever you like."