806 - I Am This Murim’s Crazy B*tch

[Universal Panacea’s Revitalizing Potion] Suddenly, the number of patients surged, and workload increased accordingly. Where would the newly arrived patients be laid, and where would their families stay? The critically ill were gathered at the Jang Yun-Pa Pavilion, while the less critical ones were placed in nearby civilian homes. This meant that residents had to relocate, as the houses in the fortified area weren't plentiful. They had to be assigned to live together in multiple households... “With things this busy, are you really leaving?” “...Stay a few more days to help out.” Even though the Langzhong leader adamantly insisted on leaving immediately, it seemed the overwhelming workload left her at a loss. It was understandable—expanding the wards and reorganizing quarantine accommodations—such tasks naturally bred discontent, especially at the thought that Langzhong might abandon them. Moving from one's familiar room was bothersome enough, but it felt especially bitter if the new room was smaller and less accommodating or farther from the Langzhong leader's quarters. The atmosphere between former and new arrivals wasn't good either. The established residents had their routines disrupted by newcomers, while the newcomers, driven from their homes and facing hostile stares, couldn't help but feel aggrieved. Thus, it was preferable for a martial artist, with a sword at their waist, to bring order to this chaos. Swords were frightening, after all. To commoners, martial artists were feared and dangerous figures, much like officials. As the day fell into night after such a hectic time, moving patients, shifting original lodgings, and settling new quarantinees into new premises. “Elder, you should come out.” “What now?” “Relief food has arrived, it seems.” Relief supplies were here. Langzhong was incredulous. They said the handling of official matters was as predictable as the seasons—taking forever without resolution. It was hearsay that the Qing had persuaded someone to promise supplies, but still, Langzhong hadn't set much stock in it—perhaps some worry. She feared that a hot-tempered fairy, inclined towards recklessness and not valuing life as martial artists tend to, had threatened an official. Officials were said to have no room for even a drop of tear, so threats would only appear effective momentarily, likely turning into resentment once the back was turned. And yet? Within half a day? At night, no less? In contrast to Qing's hometown, the Zhongyuan, and beyond in this era, nothing proceeded during night hours, no matter the urgency. Because, well, it's dark, right? And yet the seemingly slow-moving government had sent relief at night, carrying torches? What kind of sorcery was this? Even more... “Hrm. Langzhong, you've truly been diligent. It's thanks to your all-around efforts that I, Yang Mo, am filled with gratitude.” “Director? You came out at this hour?” “Haha, hrm, well, the cries of the suffering citizens were so loud, I could not remain idly by.” Langzhong wondered what on earth Yang Mo might have consumed. Though he was known as quite well-respected for an official, not indulging excessively nor disregarding laws—a figure seen as upright. Yet, the very official who stood adamant about quarantining without support was now bringing the relief supplies in person. While Langzhong blinked, Yang Mo quietly stole a glance at the woman beside Langzhong, gauging her reaction. ‘Director, it seems some relief needs to be dispatched to the quarantine area...’ ‘What are you talking about? Why relief for people already handled? Such a waste.’ ‘Well, isn't Langzhong caring for patients there?’ ‘Eh, just let them all die, and the sickness will fade away eventually. Can't drive them off when they're so famed across the world.’ 'That is to say, Inspector General is assisting Langzhong—' "Screech!!!" The Inspector General, they said, wore a veil and an awe-inspiring sash—a most formidable presence. It was indeed formidable. Since the Inspector General didn’t disclose her identity, acknowledging her wasn’t exactly courteous. Yet, refusing to clarify the present situation was impossible. So the director offered an ambiguous argument to no one in particular. “Well, hm. Official law dictates that relief grains are lent to those affected by floods, droughts, locusts, and such—right?” Indeed. Relief grains weren’t free. Lent at low interest in the wake of natural disasters that ruin a year’s harvest. Therefore, giving such grains without promise of return to possibly recuperating patients risked wasting state resources. “Hm, so I could write you a note, how about, two guan of gold-” “No, no, no, ahem, how could the district director ignore the plight of citizens, I’ll ensure it’s filled with my private resources...” “Oh, don't be modest. And it doesn’t seem like it'll stay private, does it?” “Haha.” The director sweated profusely. Even if you say you'll spend your own wealth, hopes of replenishing what’s spent loomed large. And the method of replenishing often came from the sincerity of subordinates. From where would that sincerity come? In truth, even should the director disburse personal funds, it ultimately meant the people of Kunming would collectively bear it. Thus, the director's sweat poured more intensely. "Ah. It is not my intention to blame the director. Your reputation for integrity precedes you. You wouldn’t handle affairs with personal bias, would you?" “Exactly, exactly.” “But just a bit callous, weren’t you?” “I shall amend that…” The director, caught between heaven and hell. As the head of a city like Kunming, there weren't many ranked higher than an official like Yang Zhi Bu. And those few above him could obliterate a man's entire family with mere words. To be said to wield life and death authority isn't an exaggeration. Inspector Generals were especially feared. Even if someone high-ranking wanted to remove an official like Yang Zhi Bu, an official could still gather their accumulated networks and affiliations over the years to fend off such threats. But as for the Inspector Generals—they could send a message straight to the Emperor saying, “I don’t like this guy, should we just get rid of him?” However, from Qing's perspective, she had no intention of wielding such power arbitrarily. From what she saw, his karmic debt wasn’t particularly high. A high official in Zhongyuan, yet his vice level was barely above that of a beast, passing for a decent human being? This was someone who could be considered an honest official, almost celestial in character. No need to punish a competent individual frivolously. Though given the position of Inspector General, Qing didn’t relish wielding it. The allure of power is overwhelmingly sweet, yet to indulge in it would morph Ximen Qing the martial artist into Ximen Tianhua the Inspector General. Of course, it wasn’t as if she'd overly restrain herself either. However, still... But Yang Zhi Bu had to be cautious. Though Qing’s face might be hidden, some instinct honed over a long bureaucratic career kicked in. With no apparent hostility from the mysterious Inspector General, he felt significant relief. "Erm, Langzhong, should you need anything, communicate with me. Your efforts for the sake of the people—I'll support them to the fullest extent." His words were more of a polite farewell, much like saying, “we should have a meal together sometime,” akin to her home community’s customary parting expression. But then a thought struck Qing. Why not take advantage of Yang Zhi Bu’s private coffers? It all comes from the city commoners anyway, right? When one’s kin in the city fall ill, it wouldn't hurt to collectively aid them through adversity. "My, what a true, compassionate model public servant you are. Then, without further ado, we'll need about twenty bolts of clean muslin. We’re in such dire straits, we've been tearing into decent clothes. If we’re to restore patients’ vitality, they'll need some meat—along with the grain you’re generously providing, some meat, even the tough scraps will do. Ah, right. Make sure to send plenty of salt too. Oh, Elder, what else do we need?" Langzhong’s eyes twinkled. He already had a habit of soliciting sponsorships from wealthy individuals; this atmosphere was perfect. "What requirements aren't numerous? Had I known the director was this generous, I'd have approached for help repeatedly. Do you have something to write with? No, wait, I'll write it up for you." "You’re going to draft a ledger, huh, ahem." Thus, the Kunming director was thoroughly pilfered. His retreating figure seemed rather forlorn, and that wasn’t just an illusion. Langzhong, watching with satisfaction, tossed out a question. "Divine Maiden, once you become an extraordinary master, do high officials like this just bow down to you?" Yang Zhi Bu's compliance was not due to Qing’s prowess. However? After pondering momentarily, Qing replied, “Perhaps. Everyone cherishes their lives, right?” “...” ---- Thanks to the unexpected generosity of the Kunming director, the sustenance in the quarantine areas reached a level where they weren't going hungry. True, relief grain is stale, and the food items we’re demanding—snatching—are mostly inferior quality, only in abundance. But then, having a meal with even some soy sauce side dishes accompanying it—there’s no comparison to before. The previous days of barely scraping by on a mysterious porridge flavored with a sparse blend of grain and forming vegetables are now like night and day—an utter transformation. Yet, Langzhong found true satisfaction elsewhere. Since the Divine Maiden and her companions had come and gone, people’s expressions had noticeably brightened. Why? Because youthful, attractive individuals were roaming around. Even if the Divine Maiden’s face, too beautiful for her own good, was hidden, her companions' appearances were quite fetching. There was even a robust young man with muscles, and despite one strange man covering his face, he wasn’t any ordinary-looking fellow judging solely by his jaws. With such figures strolling around, even the quarantined appear less shabby, achieving somewhat human-esque appearances. Originally, quarantined individuals had looked quite miserable. Hunger gnawed at them due to scant rations, and confinement meant no real opportunity to maintain appearances. The weary disposed of their dignity, unable to groom, wash, or work, ending up much like beggars. Their hair was disheveled, their clothes tattered and grimy; while commoners weren’t the fussiest about washing, they gave up even the pretense of doing so. Descend into an unrecognizable state between quarantined patients and beggars. But gradually, individuals tidied their hair neatly, wore neatly pressed clothes, and the vacant stares from perching or lying around dissipated, leaving sparks of life. Among the quarantined, newfound pairs even ventured shyly hand in hand from time to time. While diagnosis, prescription, and herbs are vital in treating illness, so is the patient’s will to hold onto life. Faced with a destiny enclosing one with hunger and a beggar-like family, patients must have been deeply remorseful. Yet it seemed hunger wouldn’t be a concern, and relatives’ faces seemed more uplifted, lightening patient hearts, further aiding recovery. So now. “You’ve done your part. Now, leave.” “Elder, why are you so keen on sending us away?” “I mean it, go. The way things look now, it seems we can manage without you. Haven’t you noticed the lively spirit in the patient village? Such a bright place is hard to come by. The rest is just experimenting with the prescriptions and perfecting them as we go.” “Wouldn’t it be easier to complete the prescriptions if Nana stayed?” “Now that things have improved, I plan to scour Kunming’s medical circles and recruit healers. If we propose creating a treatment for this nameless epidemic, there’ll be some intrigued ones. If it looked like a beggar’s den before, they’d have turned tails and run, but seeing that the able-bodied are walking around neatly can assure them it isn't an epidemic after all.” There’s an unspoken nuance in non-verbal cues. Previously, when they spoke, it was evident she was stubbornly trying to force them out. But this time, there was a genuine warmth and satisfaction—as if to say enough kindness had been shown—and Qing caught that vibe. “Are you really sure we can go?” “Well, any remaining issues are just pesky quacks trying to worm their way in. But with the director’s cooperation, we can just have the soldiers stationed at the blockade drive them out.” “Huh. Quacks?” “There are those vile human dregs. Weren’t there a couple who made a mess before you arrived?” Desperate people are the easiest to deceive in this world. And patients, by nature, are desperate people. Thus, there are those who take advantage of them—these roaming quacks, or fake medicine peddlers. “Oh, those kinds.” Qing immediately understood. Because in Qing’s hometown, a medicine peddler referred to a fraudster selling fake cures. Medicine from pharmacists, diagnosis from doctors. But if someone who isn't even a pharmacist is selling medicine, they’re called a quack, and it’s unlikely they’re selling anything legitimate. It was at that moment. “Elder? You should come out.” There's an old saying in Zhongyuan about saying Cao Cao’s name and he appears, and in Qing’s hometown they say, mention a tiger and it shows up. This seems to speak to a long-proven rule of the universe. “Yes?" “Some formidable-sounding practitioner has come claiming to have effective medicine and is asking us to gather the people.”