Standing by the bed, Wang Tiezhu’s expression turned serious. He placed his right palm on his father’s head, channeling the faint ancestral qi through his hand to dissolve the blood clots in his father’s brain.


    Sweat soon beaded on his forehead and nose, his face paling as he struggled. His newly acquired qi was still weak, his strength limited—this was taking a toll. But for his father’s sake, he pushed onward.


    After ten minutes, he withdrew his hand. His brow glistened with sweat, his pallor a testament to his exhaustion.


    “Mom, I’ve cleared the blood clots from Dad’s brain. He should wake up in an hour. I’ll rest in my room.” Though drained, his mind buzzed with exhilaration. The ancestral legacy would irrevocably change his life.


    Lying on his bed, Wang Tiezhu replayed the past, a lifetime away yet vivid in his memory.


    Four years earlier, at eighteen, he’d become the first college student from Qing Shan Village, admitted to Dong Shui University’s medical program.


    At twenty-one, during his junior year, he’d fallen in love like any young student—his girlfriend, Qin Rou, was the university’s beauty.


    Born poor, he’d matured early. While others played, he’d started a gift shop near campus, thriving. Qin Rou chose him for his grit and ambition.


    Everything seemed perfect—until one fateful night.


    A text from Qin Rou: “Celebrating a roommate’s birthday at KTV. Someone drugged me.”


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    He’d rushed there to find her dazed, a man tearing her skirt off. Enraged, he’d grabbed a bottle and struck.


    Later, he learned the man was Yang Fei, son of Dong Shui’s Yang Tian Group chairman—a spoilt heir.


    Retaliation came swiftly. His shop was destroyed. Qin Rou was raped by Yang Fei, her reputation ruined. Unable to bear the shame, she vanished.


    Finally, Yang Fei captured him. His limbs held by bodyguards, Yang Fei sneered, crushing his skull with a bat:


    “You’re just a dirt farmer! What can you do against me? In Dong Shui, I can crush you with a flick of my finger!”


    “You think you deserve Qin Rou? That slut chose you over me? Now she’s mine!”


    “Angry? What good is anger? Look at me, peasant! Die!”


    The bat descended.


    That trauma left him catatonic for a year. Worse, Yang Fei had also injured his father when seeking justice.


    Wang Tiezhu’s gaze turned cold, a lethal aura emanating from him.


    For myself, my father, and Qin Rou—I’ll make Yang Fei pay.


    Thinking of Qin Rou, his heart ached. Where was she now?


    He dialed her number—a habit he couldn’t shake.


    The dial tone echoed: “This number is disconnected.”


    A mix of despair and relief washed over him. Perhaps it was better this way. Let her move on.


    Resolving to bury his memories, he rose after resting. He needed herbs to heal his father.


    Though the blood clots were gone, the prolonged pressure had damaged his father’s nerves. Recovery required rare herbs, especially a five-decade-old ginseng root—a treasure nearly mythical in value.


    First, he’d gather what he could.


    “Mom, I’m going to the mountain for herbs to treat Dad.”


    He grabbed a bamboo basket, tools, and headed to Da Qing Mountain.


    The village nestled at the mountain’s base. Once ordinary, it now seemed a trove of wild medicinal plants.


    Ascending, he moved swiftly, gathering Angelica, Eupatorium, Ligusticum, licorice, and Belamcanda—herbs to aid circulation and nourish blood.


    Wild herbs were far more potent than farmed ones.


    As he descended, he pondered how to earn enough for the legendary ginseng.


    Money, power, vengeance…


    The path was long, but he’d walk it. For his father. For Qin Rou. For his future.


    The mountain air carried the scent of pine and possibility.


    His journey had just begun.