Chapter Twenty-Seven: Wei Ci's Sanctuary

The old man felt little shock in his heart; mostly, he was simply curious. In truth, he had seen too many prodigies in his life—children scarcely a few years old, already mastering diverse paths of learning. Whether in literature, martial arts, or medicine, there were always those blessed with exceptional talent. The number of such youths he had encountered was as countless as fish in the river, impossible to reckon.

Moreover, there were even those who excelled in all three fields at once, so the display by Li Zisheng seemed quite ordinary in his eyes, nothing out of the ordinary—a mere diversion to ease his own restlessness.

Li Zisheng, of course, was well aware of the old man’s thoughts. Had his performance been unremarkable, it would have passed without comment. But armed with the boundless knowledge of medicinal herbs from the future, he was leagues ahead of his contemporaries.

On this point, Li Zisheng felt confident he could impress this so-called Medicine King Wei, perhaps even inspire in him the same desire Doctor Yang had—to accept him as a disciple.

“This fruit of the paper mulberry has indeed long been recorded in the ancient texts authored by our revered physicians,” the old man began, “It treats impotence and edema, replenishes vital energy, nourishes the skin, and brightens the eyes. All fruits of plants are by nature cooling, and cooling foods must be consumed with great caution. The child knows much already—indeed, eating too many of these is unwise. But why only one? Consuming more is not unreasonable.”

It was clear that the old man Wei was deliberately testing him.

“Sir, you may not know, but recently my constitution has grown somewhat cool in temperament. Eating even one of these fruits is already quite difficult for me—any more would be to torment myself.”

This much was true. The body Li Zisheng now inhabited had always been frail, often succumbing to strange illnesses. On the advice of a wandering Taoist, his elders had given him the name Li Zhuangzhuang, hoping it would bestow strength and health.

Yet, it seemed to have little effect. In the end, he had come to possess this body. Though he had later exercised diligently through summer heat and winter cold, gaining some improvement, the underlying weakness of his spleen and cooling disposition persisted. Li Zisheng had tried many remedies but could not cure this root ailment entirely.

“Oh? Spleen deficiency and internal cold, that makes sense. For such a constitution, the fruit of the paper mulberry would indeed be ill-advised. Yet, you do not appear to have the look of one suffering from such a condition. Why is that? Come, let me take your pulse.”

This finally piqued the old man’s curiosity. He studied Li Zisheng’s countenance carefully. The boy’s face was ruddy and healthy—not at all like someone with a cold, deficient spleen. Why, then, would the child claim so?

Li Zisheng showed no change in expression as he extended his arm. The old man’s face was deeply lined, but his hands were remarkably well maintained.

The old man Wei, as he took Li Zisheng’s pulse, furrowed and relaxed his brows in turn, his expression shifting back and forth in a rather comical fashion. Li Zisheng sat calmly, undisturbed, waiting for the verdict. If this old man truly was the Medicine King Wei, then it was as well to let him examine this ailment; though not life-threatening, it always weighed uneasily upon his heart.

The old man’s examination lasted a long while—even Li Zisheng sensed something unusual. The changes in Wei’s expression grew ever more peculiar, not like a typical physician, but as though he were confronted by a riddle he could not unravel, scratching his ears in frustration, yet ultimately helpless.

At length, after about the time it takes to drink three cups of tea, the old man withdrew his hands, letting out a soft sigh.

“How tragic.”

“Child, would you be willing to become my disciple?”

The words Li Zisheng had long hoped to hear were finally spoken, yet they came so abruptly that he was more surprised than delighted. Why would the Medicine King Wei wish to accept him as a disciple after merely taking his pulse? Such oddity aroused suspicion. Li Zisheng was far from a fool; he knew the opportunity was precious, but would never agree to become a disciple under such vague circumstances.

“If I could apprentice myself to you, sir, it would be a blessing beyond measure. But why do you offer to take me as your pupil after merely examining my pulse? If you cannot resolve this doubt for me, no matter how great your skills, I must respectfully decline.”

Li Zisheng’s words were reasonable and well-spoken, leaving the old man no room for objection. The old man could only shake his head gently.

“Do you know who I am?” the old man asked, a look of regret in his eyes, tinged with nostalgia.

Li Zisheng certainly would not admit he had already guessed as much, so he replied that he did not know.

“I am Wei Cizang, a wandering physician. Over the years, I have traveled far and wide, learning much of medicine and healing many difficult cases. In doing so, I have forged many close friendships.”

Here, Wei Cizang paused, a look of remorse appearing in his eyes.

Li Zisheng knew there was no need to speak now, so he waited in silence, perfectly still.

“I have another identity as well—I am also a wandering Taoist, often treating the villagers wherever I go. I have a junior disciple, a man from India, with whom I constantly compete—while I heal, he poisons, and so our contest never ends.”

At this, an uneasy suspicion arose in Li Zisheng’s heart.

“There were three of us—my senior, my junior, and I. Once, in an ancient cave, we discovered a medical text of profound knowledge. On the front, it described lost prescriptions capable of reviving the dead and regenerating flesh. But on the reverse, it recorded methods of poisoning and harming others, equally potent and deadly. This book, on one side, could save all living things; on the other, it was a sea of blood and fire. If the book were ever to be revealed, it would surely lead to great disaster. We three could not agree on what to do with it.”

Here, the old man seemed tired; he paused, resting for a long time in silence.

Yet his words sent great waves through Li Zisheng’s heart.

The names of the Three Weis were renowned—these three Wei physicians were later venerated as Medicine Kings in Taoism, their status illustrious beyond compare. The reason for their fame was their unmatched medical skill and virtuous character. Yet how they had acquired such expertise was never recorded in history—only briefly alluded to as a mix of divine inspiration and diligent study, leading to their supreme mastery and universal reverence.