When everyone looked, they saw that this person was the wandering monk who had appeared in the village a few months ago, calling himself Master Franklin. He went from house to house begging for food, and whenever he saw you having a meal, he would show up. In recent years, thanks to the reform and opening up, some villagers had started side businesses outside, and others made handicrafts to sell elsewhere, so life was getting better and better. Basically, food was no longer a problem. So whenever he came to beg, the villagers generally didn’t mind and would give him something. He wasn’t greedy—he would take whatever was given, no matter how much or little. If it wasn’t enough, he’d just go to another house until he was full.

When there was a celebration in a household, he was even happier—he’d drink wine and eat meat, and everyone called him Wandering Monk. With such good days, of course he didn’t want to leave. He lived in a stone house by the railway (a temporary building once used by the railway company), settling down in this small mountain village.

“Wandering Monk, you’ve come at the wrong time today. There’s no food here right now, the family has something going on. You’d better try another house,” someone said.

“What’s the matter? The world is vast, but eating is the most important!” replied Wandering Monk.

Usually, because Mrs. Bennett was kind-hearted, whenever Wandering Monk came to beg for food, she would give him a bit more, so he could usually fill his stomach at her house and didn’t need to go to a second one. But he didn’t come every day—maybe once every half a month or so.

Kevin Bennett also knew this Wandering Monk. He was a bit more educated than the other villagers and saw things more clearly. Although Wandering Monk looked like someone who didn’t know much about farming or meditation, Kevin Bennett felt that, despite his sometimes crude speech, his manner of walking and talking suggested he was actually quite learned. Though he couldn’t be sure, he always treated him with respect.

At this moment, Kevin Bennett stepped forward and said, “Master, my son was bitten by a red centipede today. Even the county hospital couldn’t figure out what was wrong, so we’re all worried here and haven’t even had dinner yet. If you’re hungry, please try another house for now.”

“Oh, a red centipede! Can I take a look at your child?” As soon as Wandering Monk heard it was a red centipede, a sharp glint flashed in his eyes.

“Wandering Monk, do you even know how to treat illnesses? Stop pretending!” a middle-aged neighbor said.

Kevin Bennett thought for a moment—since the hospital hadn’t heard of a red centipede, there was no harm in letting him take a look.

“If the master is willing to help, please come in and have a look!”

Wandering Monk squeezed into the crowd and, upon seeing the child, said, “Isn’t this your little San?” Little Samuel often played by the railway and knew Wandering Monk, who liked him for his cleverness and energy.

Wandering Monk picked up Little Samuel’s foot with his left hand and saw that the instep was badly swollen and deformed. A thought flashed through Wandering Monk’s mind. He placed his right hand on Little Samuel’s pulse, sending a surge of inner energy into him. After a long while, Wandering Monk let go and said to Kevin Bennett, “Mr. Bennett, since everyone calls you that, I’ll do the same. Your little San’s foot was indeed bitten by a red centipede. This kind of centipede is very rare, you could call it a mutant, so ordinary hospitals and doctors wouldn’t know about it.”

When Kevin Bennett heard this, he immediately asked anxiously, “Master, can my little San’s foot be cured?”

“It can, but it’s very troublesome. This red centipede is actually the offspring of a centipede and a scorpion mating—a chance occurrence that happens maybe once in several hundred years. That it happened here is truly unusual!

The red centipede’s real name is the Scarlet Scorpion Centipede. Its venom isn’t very strong at first, but over time, it will spread to the brain and could cause brain death. The antidote is especially complicated, requiring many ingredients and a long treatment period!”

When Mrs. Bennett heard this, she immediately began to cry, “What are we going to do…”

But Kevin Bennett was moved by what he heard and said to Wandering Monk, “Since you know about the Scarlet Scorpion Centipede, you must have a way to cure it. I’ll do whatever it takes to save my son, even if it costs everything I have. Please, master, you must help us!” With that, he was about to kneel before Wandering Monk.

Wandering Monk quickly pulled Kevin Bennett up. “I’m fated to meet your little San, and your family is kind. I won’t refuse to help.”

“It’s just that the cure is very troublesome, and many of the herbs aren’t available here. Some must be freshly picked and used immediately. So, if you really want him cured, I’ll have to take him to a place rich in medicinal herbs. Only then can I guarantee a complete recovery, but the treatment may take several years.”

At this point, Wandering Monk was already scheming in his heart. Although he truly was a master, highly ranked in the Shaolin Temple, and one of the top martial artists and doctors in the world, he was also a glutton and couldn’t stay in an ordinary monastery. So for decades, he wandered around and never took a disciple. In fact, Little Samuel’s illness could be cured in just a few months, but when he checked with his inner energy, he found that Little Samuel had excellent natural talent and, knowing he was also very smart, he deliberately exaggerated the treatment time to several years. He was actually hoping to take him as a disciple, but worried the family wouldn’t let him go, so he used this opportunity to serve his own interests under the guise of helping.