Chapter 138: 138, Fire seed

The medicine seller—this term usually appears in rather improper contexts.

Ren Xiaosu felt a twinge of resentment; how could he, a young and accomplished supernatural being, bear such a heavy label?

As he had said, once dubbed a medicine seller, one’s social standing plummets like a stone.

At that moment, a figure entered: “Doctor, please examine me—I’ve had an uneasy stomach for days.”

Ren Xiaosu, without hesitation, declined: “We no longer treat patients.”

The man grew displeased: “This is a medical clinic—how can you refuse to see patients? Do you know who I am?”

Ren Xiaosu bristled; how insufferable these people were, flaunting their identities at the slightest provocation, as though their very existence hinged on status. He cast a sidelong glance: “Who are you?”

“I am Yan Linfeng of Xicheng District—look into it!” the man declared arrogantly.

Suddenly, Ren Xiaosu heard the long-absent voice from the Palace: “Mission: Heal and save lives.”

Ren Xiaosu’s eyes brightened as he turned to Yan Linfeng: “Come, tell me your ailment.”

Yan Linfeng paused, taken aback—was his name truly so persuasive? The ire he had intended to unleash melted away: “My stomach aches, nothing more.”

“Old Wang, prescribe three doses of antibiotics,” Ren Xiaosu said with a smile: “You’ve gastritis; the medicine will set you right.”

“Really?” Yan Linfeng hesitated.

“Truly!” Ren Xiaosu affirmed, his tone leaving no room for doubt—completing the mission was paramount.

The Palace had not issued a task in over ten days; today marked a promising beginning.

As the man accepted the medicine, the Palace intoned: “Mission complete. Reward: Basic skill learning chart!”

Ren Xiaosu’s eyes gleamed—success!

Yan Linfeng paid and asked, “Any dietary restrictions?”

“Avoid bitter melons,” Ren Xiaosu replied absently, his gaze drifting to the Palace’s chart.

“Why bitter melons?” Yan Linfeng froze.

Ren Xiaosu: “They’re unpalatable.”

Yan Linfeng: “???”

Wang Fugui saw Yan Linfeng off, then inquired, “Only two clients today?”

“Not exactly, but we’re not healers anymore—so we turned them away,” Wang Fugui chuckled, retrieving a red flyer from beneath the counter: “Someone left this pamphlet. Take a look.”

“What’s this?” Ren Xiaosu accepted it, only to stiffen—the header bore the emblem of Huozhong Company.

The emblem, a tiny flame, seemed to symbolize the enduring spark of civilization.

Ren Xiaosu’s expression grew grave; did Huozhong Company operate within the 109th Barrier? Since Jiang Shan’s emergence, one of the organizations he most wished to understand was this very company.

Even now, he could only speculate based on Yang Xiaojin’s fragmented accounts, yet he remained wary. Perhaps it was Yang’s hostile tone when describing Huozhong that had shaped his distrust.

“Effective immediately, supernaturals may donate blood to our company for research. Your blood will advance human progress. Donate 200cc and receive a million yuan. We guarantee confidentiality and protection. For details, contact…”

A string of numbers followed.

According to Yang Xiaojin, Huozhong controlled a realm akin to Jiang Shan’s, pristine and unmarred by volcanoes.

Now, all Barriers harbored some hostility toward supernaturals—yet Huozhong boldly solicited their blood, even pledging protection!

Wang Fugui watched Ren Xiaosu and laughed: “Shall you give it a try?”

Yan Liuyuan peered at the flyer and frowned: “Uncle Fugui, this company reeks of trouble—my brother can’t go.”

“True,” Wang Fugui mused, recalling Zhang Baogen and Chen Wudi’s tragic fates. Who could vouch for Huozhong’s benevolence?

Even if their intentions were pure, could their discretion be trusted?

Thus, he’d rather forgo the money than see Ren Xiaosu risk himself.

Yet Wang Fugui marveled at Yan Liuyuan’s clarity—for a child raised in such squalor, such discernment was rare.

Ren Xiaosu studied the flyer, seeking hidden snags, though Wang Fugui and Yan Liuyuan grasped little of this world.

Consider the experiments—were they truly voluntary? Unlikely.

Huozhong sought supernaturals’ blood for its genetic data; their ambitions were vast, aiming to harvest every supernatural’s essence.

Yet Ren Xiaosu saw no virtue in this. He summoned Chen Wudi, warning him never to use supernatural powers without permission, even threatening him with the chakra-binding spell until he relented.

“Who knew the chakra-binding spell still held sway,” Ren Xiaosu mused…

Wang Fugui sighed: “Still, such a princely sum—it’s a shame to let it go.”

For him, earning money was life’s trade; seeing so much wealth stirred his heart. Yet he knew better than to act.

Suddenly, Yan Liuyuan’s eyes lit up: “With Huozhong’s riches, why not rob them blind?”

Ren Xiaosu kicked him sharply: “Away with you—pack your things. We’re off to school at dawn!”

“Ah…” Yan Liuyuan replied.

Ren Xiaosu glanced at him; raised in such a den of vice, the boy needed constant guidance on right and wrong.

Noticing the numbers on the flyer, he asked, “What do these signify—codes?”

“Likely a phone number,” Wang Fugui laughed: “They say each Barrier has a telephone network; two people miles apart can converse through air. We’ve a landline here, but haven’t figured out its use.”

When the refugees arrived, all had to learn anew. Ren Xiaosu wondered if Jiang Wugu should teach them, to deepen their understanding of the Barriers.

“Let’s try the phone,” Yan Liuyuan exclaimed, his age making him eager for all novelties.