Chapter Ninety-Seven: Graystone Village
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“Being afflicted by a Gu poison? Impossible! Who would stoop to such a vile scheme against the people of Golden Wind Village?”
The old clan chief’s face instantly drained of color, turning deathly pale.
It was hardly surprising—Gu arts, one of the most mysterious branches of medicine in the wild jungle, could be used as a remedy when wielded rightly, but when used maliciously, they were far crueler than the deadliest poisons. Moreover, many Gu techniques were bound to the caster’s own life; only by killing the practitioner could the curse be fully lifted.
“It must be those from Graystone Village. Those scoundrels, unable to outhunt us, resort to such despicable tactics!”
Dihu shouted loudly, his face burning with righteous indignation.
“Definitely them!”
“How dare those bastards use such underhanded methods against us!”
“What do we do now? We’re weak, and they could strike us down any moment!”
...
The others were thrown into a panic, trembling like leaves.
Fang Junmei furrowed his brow as he listened. Before leaving, the Daoist Cuotuo and Song Shede had warned him to be wary of southern Gu arts. These arts were practiced not only by common folk but also by cultivators, especially those from the Wanan Mountains, whose Gu techniques were far more formidable.
If the Gu affliction came from commoners, it might be manageable; but if it originated from cultivators, it could be a grave matter. Even a single attempt to remove it could alert the hidden cultivator, so it was not something to be taken lightly or tried on a whim.
Fang Junmei had limited knowledge of Gu arts and could not determine if the curse was from a commoner or a cultivator.
“Divine healer, since you can perceive the situation, surely you can dispel this Gu curse!”
The old clan chief was the first to regain composure. Once steady, he immediately looked to Fang Junmei and pleaded, “Please, have mercy and help lift this curse from me and my people.”
Fang Junmei was deep in thought and did not respond at once.
Seeing this, the old chief suddenly knelt down with a thud, begging tearfully and repeatedly kowtowing.
Following his lead, others, including Dihu, also knelt and implored Fang Junmei.
Fang Junmei gathered his thoughts and gave the crowd a glance. He helped the old chief to his feet and said calmly, “Old clan chief, there’s no need for such desperation. Since this matter has come to me, I will not stand idly by. But first, I need a detailed account of the situation with Graystone Village. Please tell me everything. Everyone else, please step outside.”
“Certainly, no problem.”
The old chief quickly nodded and then ordered Dihu and the others, “You all step outside.”
The crowd hurriedly stumbled out, afraid of provoking Fang Junmei’s displeasure by lingering.
...
The old chief wasted no time and began recounting the situation with Graystone Village.
In these wild mountains, there were several villages of common folk. The largest among them were Golden Light Village and Graystone Village, each with over a thousand people.
Graystone Village lay about thirty to forty miles northeast of Golden Light Village. The two villages were not on friendly terms—the source of their discord was unclear, but in recent years, conflicts over game and medicinal herbs had escalated, resulting in many deaths.
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After finishing this account, the old chief muttered curses under his breath.
Fang Junmei changed the subject. “Life in the wild jungle is harsh, with poisonous miasma by day and night, and demons and beasts prowling constantly. Have you ever considered leading your people to develop a more prosperous and stable life in the northern lands?”
The old chief smiled bitterly. “The north is indeed more prosperous, but that land is plagued by constant dynastic changes and wars. When war breaks out, it is always us common folk who perish. Compared to such chaos, we prefer to face natural disasters. This was why our ancestors moved here generations ago.”
Fang Junmei nodded in understanding.
“Divine healer, is there anything else you wish to ask?”
Fang Junmei inquired, “How long has it been since you first noticed the abnormalities?”
The old chief thought for a moment. “About half a year. However, we must have been affected earlier, but the Gu toxin was mild at first, so it went unnoticed. I can’t say for certain when exactly it started.”
Hearing this, Fang Junmei silently calculated their remaining vitality and sensed they still had some time left. The method suggested a slow process of feeding the Gu with living energy.
Who was behind this? What were their intentions?
“During this time, did you send anyone out to find doctors from other places?”
“Of course.”
The old chief replied, “I have sent at least fifteen able-bodied men, but none have returned.”
His expression darkened, and he sighed before continuing, “I don’t know if they were attacked by beasts or other dangers.”
Fang Junmei nodded. “And Graystone Village—did they send anyone?”
The old chief’s face turned awkward. “Though we are not on good terms, I swallowed my pride and sent people there. Their healer, Mi Luo, is far more skilled than our own best doctor, Lao Si.”
His eyes filled with hatred. “I never expected it was that treacherous Mi Luo who cast the Gu. His Gu arts are notorious among our villages. It must be him.”
Fang Junmei said nothing.
Such a heinous act, simply over a few deaths, seemed implausible.
Besides, since they had the chance to cast a lethal Gu, why resort to a slow, energy-draining curse?
Thinking of the Wanan Mountains, one of the five great demonic sects, Fang Junmei’s gaze sharpened.
“What does this Mi Luo look like?”
Fang Junmei asked again.
“Are you planning to visit Graystone Village to find him?”
The old chief was quick to react.
Fang Junmei nodded slightly. “I must meet him. Gu arts are not so easily dispelled.”
Regardless of the truth, Fang Junmei intended to see the man, even if only to seek advice.
The old chief’s eyes flickered. “Very well. I will gather the strongest able-bodied men left in the village to accompany you.”
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Fang Junmei smiled inwardly. He understood the old man’s thoughts perfectly: concern for his safety, but more importantly, fear that Fang Junmei might flee midway. The old chief’s care for himself and his people was sincere.
“No need. I’ll go alone.”
Since Fang Junmei planned to use magic to fly, it was inconvenient to take others along.
“Impossible. Graystone Village is populous and powerful. How can you face them alone?”
The old chief protested again.
“Enough chatter. Show me what Mi Luo looks like. If you keep stalling, you can go find others to help you.”
Fang Junmei’s face turned stern as he commanded.
The old chief was left speechless, his face darkening as he hesitated before reluctantly saying, “Mi Luo is easy to recognize. He has fiery red hair, rumored to be caused by a mishap during Gu practice.”
Without further delay, Fang Junmei headed for the door.
The old chief followed closely.
Before they could step outside, a crowd of mountain folk had already gathered, all gazing at Fang Junmei with eyes full of hope and sorrow.
The old chief quickly addressed them briefly and then cleared a path.
Fang Junmei strode forward.
The old chief signaled to Dihu, who gathered a few men and quietly followed.
Once outside the village and after navigating several bends, Dihu and his men lost sight of Fang Junmei. Their faces turned pale with shock.
...
Setting aside the others, back to Fang Junmei.
After shaking off Dihu and the others, Fang Junmei cast a spell and flew straight toward Graystone Village.
The thirty to forty-mile distance passed quickly.
But as he soared high above, his eyes suddenly snapped wide open.
Below lay a village, but it was a smoldering ruin, as if scorched by fire—only charred earth and a few unburned structures remained.
A cultivator!
It had to be a cultivator’s doing!
Fang Junmei’s eyes gleamed with cold light as a vague realization dawned: he had just become entangled in a serious and dangerous affair.