Scientific Travel

While the renowned physician was taking Wang's pulse, Wang Moyu woke up.

Even though she was awake, it was almost as if she wasn't; she looked delirious from the fever.

"Do not touch me."

! ! ! ! ! ! !

A patient's family member who demands someone to die with them at the drop of a hat, and a patient who won't let the doctor touch them—who wouldn't think they're a match made in heaven?

They've been reading too many storybooks!

Wang Moyu was so weak that Doctor Wang could easily subdue her with one hand while using the other to take her pulse.

When Zou Guangyu saw Doctor Wang's hand gripping Wang Moyu's wrist, he said in a deep voice, "What are you doing!"

If it were any other doctor here, they would have been terrified and begged for mercy long ago.

But Doctor Wang is different.

His success today is not solely due to his superb medical skills, but also to his courage.

It's not about immediately pointing out a patient's mistake the moment they say something wrong, nor is it about righteously criticizing and lecturing a patient for saying something they don't like.

He relied on his courage, the kind of spirit that says, "Even if you kill me today, I will still cure you."

Similarly, this approach works very well with patients' families.

"If you want her dead, then stop me."

Zou Guangyu didn't want her to die, but he also didn't want anyone to touch her. "I'll grab her hand, and you can take her pulse."

Zou Guangyu used less force than he did when catching the chicken, but he still managed to immobilize Wang Moyu.

What Doctor Wang just said is true; judging from her pulse, she definitely won't live more than three days.

Even he couldn't save this person.

Wang Moyu struggled for a while, but when she realized she couldn't break free, she gave up.

"Dr. Wang?"

Wang Moyu seemed to suddenly wake up and struggled to sit up.

"You recognize me?" Doctor Wang considered himself to have a very good memory, otherwise he wouldn't be able to do this job, but he really didn't recognize Wang Moyu's face at all.

"It's me, Wang Moyu. My daughter had a fever before, so I took her to see you."

"It's you!"

Deng Yin's affair has caused quite a stir, and now almost everyone knows her.

The name was uncommon, but he happened to know one, and that person happened to be a relative of the woman in front of him.

I remember when I first saw Wang Moyu, Doctor Wang was quite amazed by her face, but I never expected it to turn out like this...

If the Deng Yin who claims to be a god is the same person as this person's relative Deng Yin, then she can be saved!

Well, it seems he's been reading too many storybooks.

Whose household gods have human relatives?

God's relatives are all gods. If Wang Moyu were a god, she wouldn't have let someone do this to her.

Forget it, regardless of whether her relative Deng Yin is the same Deng Yin who claims to be a god, let's save her if we can.

The child gave him so much medicine; this was a good opportunity to express his gratitude.

So far, Doctor Wang has sent Steward Weng to gather people, and Wang Jiang has searched the entire city, except for the county magistrate's residence, and is sending people to investigate the surrounding area.

The only area where there has been no progress is Li Pingle's side.

He was once famous for his name "Black Soil" in his early years. It was an era when all kinds of mechanisms, weapons and poisons were emerging one after another. Anything produced by Black Soil was a masterpiece.

Unfortunately, he only sold the business for less than two years before stopping. No one has ever seen him. Some say he was an elderly man over seventy, others say he was a woman in her prime, and still others say he was a child of about ten years old.

Most people think the first two are more likely, since some things require more than just talent; they also need to be honed over time.

These three images circulating in the martial arts world are actually all of Heitu himself.

Even when he was fully armed and wearing a veil, he would still disguise himself before each transaction.

That's why so many versions have circulated in the martial arts world.

Later, he quit that line of work, and rumors circulated that he was dead. From then on, his identity as an elderly man in his seventies was confirmed.

Li Pingle is 27 years old this year, but there is no trace of age on his face. His skin is delicate and firm like a baby's. People would believe him if he said he was 20.

Seven years ago, he was only 20 years old.

Can a twenty-year-old be the famous Hei Tu?

He probably saw that the person had died and came out to impersonate him.

I went to four different places and was turned away each time.

There are only two ways to prove your identity.

One option is to produce a weapon of such high quality that it can prove that the product is made from black soil.

Li Pingle didn't have this; if he did, he would have taken it with him when he left.

Another method is to produce a poison of such high quality that it can prove it is black soil.

Li Pingle doesn't have that either. Although he can make it now, he doesn't have the materials.

The materials he needed weren't rare medicinal herbs, but in this awful weather, everything became a precious medicinal herb.

Those with a sense of crisis are buying or harvesting large quantities of medicinal herbs as soon as they see the weather getting warmer.

Although most medicinal herbs need to be dried for storage, drying them for too long will reduce their medicinal properties.

Clearly, Li Pingle lacked this sense of crisis.

He was so busy hoarding food that he didn't stock up on any medicine.

Making poison is not difficult; you just need to mix a bunch of poisonous herbs together in the right proportions. The only difficulty is recognizing the herbs and knowing what makes them poisonous.

The poisons he made became popular because they were highly toxic and came in many varieties.

Once someone else has developed an antidote for one of his poisons, Black Earth will develop a dozen or so new poisons.

Most importantly, even with the same poison, the dosage Black Earth applies can vary, which means that some antidotes work while others don't.

Over time, everyone knew he had this problem, and fewer and fewer people were willing to research an antidote for his poison.

This incident didn't affect him much. Most people who can afford poison want to kill their target, so it's actually better if there's no antidote.

Making an antidote is much more difficult than making poison.

Black Earth only makes antidotes for poisons that he is particularly satisfied with, or he buys antidotes made by others.

The antidote is much more expensive than the poison, so in order to buy the antidote, he has to develop even more poisons.

Selling poison is for the purpose of making money to buy antidotes. Buying antidotes is so that if someone were to poison me with poison I made myself, I wouldn't die from the poison.

How embarrassing would it be to tell people? If they ask how you died, you'd say you were poisoned by the poison you made yourself. You risked your life to make some money from poison.

A year after retiring from the criminal life, he bought every antidote available on the market.

If no new poisons are sold for a long time, there are more antidotes available on the market than poisons.

Six months later, he turned all the antidotes into poison and put them all in the house on the mountain.