Henry Carter had just thought this when a clear, cold light appeared before his eyes, pressed against his neck.

It was a sword blade.

Henry Carter held his breath slightly.

"You know how to decoct medicine, just know how to control the heat?"

That arrogant voice spoke slowly.

Henry Carter frowned slightly, the pain on his back intensifying.

Seeing that he didn't answer, the person snorted, pressed the sword blade closer to his neck, slicing a thin cut, and fresh blood dripped down the blade.

Henry Carter nodded slightly, but after a pause, he took a deep breath and asked, "How is my celestial guest bird?"

"Struck by a stone from my hidden weapon technique, it is surely dead."

The person replied indifferently, then beckoned toward the woods.

Four or five young men, dressed in luxurious clothes and with swords at their waists, walked out from the forest.

"Get up and prepare the medicine."

The person moved the sword away from Henry Carter's neck.

Henry Carter could see his own face reflected on the clear, water-like blade.

Reflected were a pair of pitch-black eyes.

And also the cold glint that had just flashed in his own eyes.

This young Daoist gritted his teeth lightly.

Chapter 002 Poisoning

Chiyuan Powder is a secret medicine that allows one to ignore fatigue and feel full of energy, but after its effects wear off, the user will be left utterly exhausted and unable to recover. Normally, after taking it, one's strength increases greatly, but when the effect fades, the person collapses, unable to move. For those with weak constitutions, it can even be fatal.

Such secret medicines are mostly concocted by martial artists, and after taking them, because of their strong bodies, they usually do not die—at most, they fall ill for a while. For those with profound martial skills, they only feel tired.

These few in front of him were clearly young heroes of the martial world. Henry Carter could tell that they had all taken Chiyuan Powder; most were exhausted, but showed little else, so their martial arts must be quite advanced—not enough to fall seriously ill, let alone die. But what had they encountered in these deep mountains, that even with such skill to resist the side effects of Chiyuan Powder, they still had to take it?

They wanted Henry Carter to prepare a medicinal soup called "Restorative Soup."

This kind of decoction is not necessarily recognized by ordinary doctors, but Henry Carter knew it. It is a powerful tonic; even those who are strong and healthy may experience adverse effects from over-supplementation. Only martial artists can usually handle such a tonic.

These few had taken Chiyuan Powder and were now quite weak. Although, pharmacologically, Restorative Soup could replenish them and treat their current weakness, weren't they afraid of the adverse effects? Or was their martial skill so high that even in this weakened state, they could take the soup without suffering from over-supplementation?

Henry Carter did not know, and just lowered his head to gather herbs.

Thinking of the celestial guest bird, his grip tightened slightly.

"The main ingredients for Restorative Soup they already have; now they just need a few common herbs. What they need is simply someone who can control the heat while decocting." Henry Carter already had seven herbs in hand, just two more to go, and he could combine them with the main ingredients from those young heroes to brew the Restorative Soup.

Those people were not far behind him, discussing matters without avoiding Henry Carter.

Henry Carter's family often treated illnesses and injuries, and many martial artists who were poisoned or wounded came seeking help. Having seen and heard much, Henry Carter knew the dangers of the martial world. Though young, his thinking was more mature than his peers.

They spoke without avoiding him. Henry Carter put the herbs into the basket, his heart sinking slightly.

"All those legends of demons, monsters, immortals, and Buddhas in the world are probably just exaggerations," a young hero in yellow said with a frown. "In my opinion, it's all just people making things out to be more than they are. For people like us who have cultivated inner strength, a single sword stroke can cut down a tree as thick as a man's embrace. To ordinary people, that's like a miracle. Maybe it's just martial artists being exaggerated and mistaken for immortals. We're all famous young heroes—if word got out about why we came here, we'd be laughed at."

The young hero who had just stepped on Henry Carter wore purple and seemed to have high status among them; the others called him Brother Sullivan. This Zhao hero shook his head and said, "If it were just ordinary legends, I'd agree it's all exaggeration. But this time is different. This is from a notebook passed down in my family, said to be written by my grandfather himself. I believe there really is an immortal object deep in this mountain, as the rumors say."

Another young hero gave a wry smile: "We haven't seen any immortal object, but there have been plenty of fierce beasts. We had to keep taking Chiyuan Powder and force out our inner strength just to escape. Even Brother Thompson and Brother Foster were lost in the mountains."

"The birds and beasts here are all fiercer than usual—isn't that suspicious?" said Mr. Sullivan. "If we don't find the immortal object this time, there will be another chance. We should make more connections with experts and come explore this mountain together. But don't spread this around, or someone else might beat us to it."

The young hero in yellow nodded and said, "Brother Sullivan is absolutely right."