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The monkey handled the furnace quickly and without hesitation. It was like watching a master chef in a busy restaurant, someone with thirty years of practice who could turn his craft into a performance.
To He Lingchuan’s surprise, he actually saw composure and confidence in a monkey.
Old Tang nodded repeatedly, stroking the long hair under his chin in approval.
In slightly over five minutes, the fire went out, and the pills were ready. The furnace shrank back down to the size of a toy.
Ling Guang motioned for He Lingchuan to hold out his hand. After that, he flipped the little furnace over and poured the finished pills into his palm.
He Lingchuan received four small medicinal pills.
Ling Guang smacked the furnace twice against his hand, and another one popped out.
Old Tang looked pleased as he commented, “An extra pill. Good job.”
He Lingchuan examined the pills closely. The pills were uniform in size, their surfaces round and smooth, black with a faint golden sheen.
Thousand-Mending Pills were a potent trauma medicine; their name meant “a thousand wounds mended.” They were far more valuable and more effective than ordinary wound salves. He had used them himself twice before, and during the gorge battle in the Panlong Dreamscape,...
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