Dongting Immortal Clan

"Hurry up and get closer."

Old Zhang said urgently.

As the fishing boat approached, he immediately pulled Chen Dajiang out of the lake and onto the boat deck.

His movements were quick and steady; despite his limp, he showed no clumsiness and possessed great strength.

Chen Dajiang was laid flat on the deck, his eyes closed and his lips devoid of any color.

Old Zhang reached out and checked his breath. He frowned, then touched his neck. Seeing that the pulse was still there, he didn't say anything and turned to go get Chen Changhe.

Chen Changhe is not much better than Chen Dajiang.

His consciousness was already very blurred, his eyes were half open with dilated pupils, and he kept spitting out blood.

Old Zhang helped him and Chen Chuansheng onto the boat, then turned to Chen Xiaohu and said:

"Little Lake, hurry up and row the boat ashore, or your father will be gone."

"good!"

Chen Xiaohu responded with red eyes.

He sniffed hard to suppress the sourness, grabbed the oar handle with both hands, and started rocking the boat with all his might.

He grew up on a boat and is quite skilled at rowing.

The oars plunged into the water, breaking the surface of the lake, and the fishing boat sped towards the shore.

He shook his arms until they ached, but he didn't dare stop.

There was only one thought in my mind.

Get ashore quickly!

……

Old Zhang squatted on the deck, leaned down to listen to Chen Chuansheng's chest, then opened his eyelids to look at him, his face growing increasingly grim.

Chen Chuansheng was deeply affected by the black energy; his skin turned purplish-blue, as if it had been burned.

The most critical problem was that he had been underwater for too long, his lungs were filled with water, and his breathing was shallow and rapid, putting him at risk of dying at any moment.

Old Zhang tore a strip of cloth from his clothes and re-bandaged Chen Chuansheng's leg wound, tying it tightly.

The cloth strips quickly bled, but it was better than before.

He then turned Chen Chuansheng's head to one side to let the water in his mouth flow out, and then pressed two fingers against his neck to count his pulse.

"Are we almost there?" he asked without looking up.

"Almost there! Almost there!"

Chen Xiaohu gritted his teeth and rowed the oar even faster.

Finally, the fishing boat came ashore on the shallow beach next to the reeds.

Before the boat could stop, Chen Xiaohu threw down the oar, jumped into the water, and waded through the knee-deep water to push the boat toward the shore.

After stopping, Old Zhang picked up Chen Dajiang and Chen Changhe, one on each side, and threw them to the ground.

Just as he was about to carry Chen Chuansheng on his back,

Chen Changhe reached out and grabbed his sleeve, his voice weak as he said:

"Godfather..."

"Save...save my dad."

"Don't speak."

Old Zhang patted Chen Changhe's hand and pried his hand off his sleeve.

"Leave it all to me."

In no time at all, Chen Xiaohu had already carried Chen Chuansheng down on his back.

"Go to my room and fetch the medicine box," Old Zhang said to Chen Xiaohu.

"What does a medicine box look like?"

Chen Xiaohu wiped the water off his face.

"A camphor wood chest, about two feet long and one foot wide, roughly this size."

Old Zhang gestured with his hand.

"It's carved with cloud patterns, and the clasp is made of brass. It's under my bed in my room; you can find it if you look around."

"Go quickly!"

Chen Xiaohu turned and ran.

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

Running all the way, Chen Xiaohu's chest felt like it was on fire, and he stumbled and staggered to Old Zhang's yard.

The door wasn't locked; it opened with a push.

The house was small, with a main room and a bedroom, and the furnishings were simple.

The bedroom door was ajar, and Chen Xiaohu hurried inside, immediately greeted by a strong smell of herbs.

"Under the bed!"

Chen Xiaohu lay on the ground and reached under the bed to feel around.

Soon my fingers touched something hard.

Chen Xiaohu dragged it out from under the bed and, by the light coming in through the window, saw that it was a wooden box with cloud patterns carved on the lid and brass clasps.

After confirming that everything was correct, Chen Xiaohu picked up the box and ran outside.

When they ran back to the lake embankment, Old Zhang had already unbuttoned Chen Chuansheng's shirt and was pressing his palm against Chen's chest, pressing down on him repeatedly.

Chen Changhe lay to the side, his eyes closed, his lips moving slightly as if he were muttering something.

Chen Dajiang remained the same, his face deathly pale, motionless.

"The first-aid kit is here!"

Chen Xiaohu placed the box next to Old Zhang and said breathlessly.

Old Zhang's hands didn't stop moving; he said urgently:

"Open."

"There's a white porcelain bottle in the left-hand compartment with the words 'Rejuvenating Powder' written on it."

Chen Xiaohu hurriedly opened the box.

The box was divided into several compartments. On the left side, there were several porcelain vases of different sizes, each with a red paper label on it.

He found the bottle of "Rejuvenating Powder", uncorked it, poured out some pale yellow powder, and handed it to Old Zhang.

Old Zhang took the powder, pried open Chen Chuansheng's mouth, poured the powder in, and then took the water gourd that Chen Xiaohu handed him and poured a small sip into his mouth.

Chen Chuansheng's throat moved slightly, as if he had swallowed, or perhaps he hadn't.

Old Zhang reached out and pressed his hand against his throat, then shoved him hard.

They swallowed it all.

"Pour me another bowl of water," Old Zhang said.

The gourd was out of water, so Chen Xiaohu quickly found a broken bowl on the boat, scooped out half a bowl of lake water, and brought it over.

Old Zhang took out a packet of herbs from the right compartment of the medicine box. When he opened it, he found a handful of dried leaves, which were black in color and had a bitter smell.

He put the leaves into the bowl, crushed them with his fingers, stirred them, and the water turned dark brown.

"Feed this bowl of medicine to your older brother."

Old Zhang handed the bowl to Chen Xiaohu.

"He fainted from exhaustion, but it's nothing serious. He'll be fine after taking the medicine and resting for a couple of days."

Chen Xiaohu took the bowl, squatted down next to Chen Dajiang, supported the back of his head with one hand, and brought the bowl to his mouth with the other.

Chen Dajiang's mouth was tightly shut, and no matter how hard you tried, you couldn't pry it open.

Chen Xiaohu was so anxious that she was about to cry again. She used her fingers to pry open her older brother's lips and slowly poured the medicine in.

Most of the medicine spilled onto his clothes, but at least some of it got down his throat.

Seeing this, Old Zhang bent down to Chen Changhe's side and immediately noticed something was wrong. He quickly opened Chen's eyelids to check.

"How could this be?"

He was completely puzzled. "Even if evil spirits invade the body, one's vital energy should not be depleted so severely."

Chen Changhe's pupils were unfocused; he was already at his last gasp.

Old Zhang's face showed resentment, and he angrily said:

"My newly adopted son has already committed five vices and three deficiencies!"

"I just don't believe it!"

Old Zhang's eyes were filled with hatred as he pulled out another yellow talisman from under his medicine box.

This yellow talisman is covered with intricate patterns drawn with cinnabar, resembling both characters and a picture.

Above the symbol head are three hooks of different shapes.

The one on the left resembles a soaring Vermilion Bird, the one on the right is like a crescent moon, and the one in the middle is like a divine thunderbolt from the heavens, descending vertically.

Below these three hooked talismans are the Wind, Thunder, and Fire Generals, as well as the Sun, Moon, and Star Lords, together forming a long, long imperial edict talisman.

Chen Xiaohu couldn't understand it; he just found it incredibly complicated.

Old Zhang straightened the talisman, gently placed it on Chen Changhe's chest, pressed it down with two fingers, and whispered a few words.

"Now that misfortune has befallen us, and the day of harm is imminent, first restraint to immobilize the body, second restraint to immobilize the spirit, third restraint to return to normalcy, so be it! Commanded by the law!"

Chen Xiaohu couldn't hear clearly, only vaguely making out a few syllables. They didn't sound like the local dialect, nor like Mandarin, but somewhat like the voices in his mind transmitting the Dharma.

Then, the talisman lit up.

It was a pale blue light, like the light of fireflies on a summer night, which shone for a moment and then went out.

Chen Changhe frowned sharply, let out a painful groan, and curled up slightly as if he had been burned by something.

Immediately, Old Zhang peeled off the talisman. The cinnabar patterns on the talisman paper had faded considerably, and a faint black aura was visible through it.

The old man folded the talisman twice and stuffed it into Chen Changhe's clothes. Then he took out a small porcelain bottle from his medicine box, poured out a black pill, and put it into Chen Changhe's mouth.

"Hold it in your mouth, don't swallow."

Old Zhang pinched Chen Changhe's chin, making him put the pill under his tongue.

"This thing can protect your heart and keep you alive until your last breath."

Chen Changhe put the pill in his mouth, closed his eyes, his chest heaved violently a few times, and his breathing gradually calmed down.

After settling his elder brother in, Chen Xiaohu squatted down next to his father.

Chen Chuansheng's face was still ashen, but it was a little better than when he was first pulled out of the water.

Old Zhang untied the strips of cloth from Chen Chuansheng's legs and reapplied the medicine.

The medicine was a black paste with a pungent odor. When it was applied to the wound, Chen Chuansheng's leg twitched.

Chen Xiaohu's eyelids twitched, and he was about to speak.

"It's okay if it hurts; it means the person isn't completely dead and there's still hope."

Old Zhang spoke as he applied the medicine, his tone slightly more relaxed than before.

Uncle Zhang.

Chen Xiaohu's voice trembled, "Will my dad and the others be alright?"

Old Zhang didn't answer immediately.

He bandaged the wound, checked Chen Chuansheng's breathing, took his pulse, and remained silent for a while before speaking:

"His life is hanging by a thread, but whether he can live or die depends on tonight."

He looked up at the sky.

The days are short now, the sun is already setting in the west, and it will be dark in less than an hour.

"They are physically weak and are most afraid of the cold air penetrating their bones at night. Someone has to stay with them and feed them medicine every half hour without fail."

"I'll stay here," Chen Xiaohu said immediately, her eyes red and swollen.

Old Zhang glanced at him, nodded, and then asked Chen Xiaohu to find a cart so that the father and his two sons could be taken back to his home.