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墨書 Inktalez
Lin Dahe kicked aside the last of the shattered stones and rolled into a low cellar. Moonlight seeped through the gaps in the ceiling, illuminating a corner piled high with dried herbs. He had just placed Cui Xiaoman on the haystack when the system suddenly popped up an urgent task:
【Antidote Task Activated】
Requirements: Prepare Aflatoxin Antidote within seven days
Formula: Mandrake + Kushen Root + Mung Bean Licorice Soup
Herb Location: Southeast side of the mass grave (danger zone)
Failure Penalty: Host's immune system collapse
Lin Dahe rummaged through the vegetable cellar and found half a bag of mung beans, then smashed a pottery jar to extract nitre for ice-making. As the cool cloth was laid on Cui Xiaoman's forehead, she suddenly grabbed his wrist. "You still haven't answered... who is it..."
"Shh—" Lin Dahe dipped a cloth strip in mung bean water and wiped the mold spots on her arm. "Once you get better, I'll tell you everything."
Cui Xiaoman's pupils had dilated, yet she stubbornly glared at him. "The mass grave... Mandrake grows under the gallows... Kushen needs to be dug from old graves..." Before she could finish, another spasm caused her to bite her lip.
The mass grave was even more eerie at midnight than during the day. Lin Dahe walked cautiously with a torch, each nameless skeleton seeming ready to sit up at any moment. The flashing red dot on the system map guided him to an old crooked locust tree—once a place of execution, its trunk still bore marks of strangulation.
Mandrake glowed pale under the moonlight, resembling little outstretched hands. Just as he drew his dagger, he suddenly heard the sound of soil rolling. Turning around, he saw a familiar figure standing near a fresh grave.
"I knew you would come."
Cui Xiaoman leaned on a branch as a makeshift cane, her pale face slick with cold sweat. A short sickle hung from her waist, caked in mud, clearly indicating she had been digging alone for some time.
"Are you trying to get yourself killed?" Lin Dahe rushed over to steady her swaying body.
"Kushen... needs to be harvested before noon..." Cui Xiaoman pointed to a patch of inconspicuous green leaves among the graves. "My father said... that herbs grow best on the graves of those who died wrongfully..."
The two knelt on the damp, cold ground and began digging with their bare hands, their nails quickly filling with black mud. When they dug down three feet deep, the sickle suddenly clanged against something hard—it was a broken piece of tombstone inscribed with the words "Military Doctor Cui."
Tears streamed down Cui Xiaoman's face as they splashed onto the tombstone. "That year my father was called to inspect the granary... when he returned he said the grain was poisoned..." Her trembling fingers brushed over the inscription. "That night, black-clad men broke into our home..."
Lin Dahe silently took over the sickle and continued digging until finally, just before dawn, he unearthed three Kushen roots as thick as an infant's arm. The tendrils were glistening with what could have been dew or droplets of blood in the morning light.
The medicinal pot had been bubbling all night. Following system instructions, Lin Dahe dried and powdered the Mandrake and mixed it with Kushen juice and Mung Bean Licorice Soup. Cui Xiaoman lay unconscious on the straw mat; mold had already spread to her neck.
As the first rays of sunlight streamed through the window, the medicine was finally ready. The dark brown liquid emitted a peculiar spicy fragrance just as Lin Dahe propped up Cui Xiaoman when he heard a commotion outside.
Aunt Wang led several villagers blocking the doorway, each with unnatural red rashes on their faces—all symptoms of consuming moldy grain. The most severely affected, Old Zhao, was delirious, grasping at thin air and shouting about "ghosts."
"Lin Family Boy!" Aunt Wang fell to her knees. "Please save everyone!"
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