The Envoy of Abundance from Onphalus

Russell did not refuse, but nodded solemnly: "Okay, I'll accept it. If you have any other questions or comments, please say them."

In the lounge, only the ticking of the wall clock stood out clearly in the silence, carrying a heavy, oppressive feeling. This quiet silently foreshadowed the impending farewell.

“Teacher…” Iser suddenly seemed to gather his last bit of strength, his voice becoming much clearer and more coherent than before, even revealing a hint of life in his final moments.

He began to reminisce: "Do you remember... a hundred years ago, on the outskirts of Stikosia... the mother you treated... and the baby in her arms?"

Russell searched his memory for a moment, but ultimately shook his head. A vague guess, however, quietly surfaced in his mind.

“That…baby in your arms…that’s me.” Iser’s eyes brightened, filled with deep gratitude. “Back then…my family was very poor, so poor that we didn’t even have the money to see a doctor for me…It was you…who saved my life when you visited Stikosia. Otherwise…Iser wouldn’t exist in this world…” He became more and more agitated as he spoke, his withered fingers curling slightly.

“From as far back as I can remember…you…have been my role model. I also want to…become a doctor like you…to save more people…cough cough cough…” A violent cough interrupted his words.

"...I remember...I don't know what I was thinking back then...I only had one thought in my mind...I must go to the Divine Tree Garden...find you...and become your student..."

"...Teacher...over the years...I have saved many people...thousands upon thousands...sometimes...I can understand a little bit...your state of mind back then...the benevolence of a doctor...how many people can truly do that..." His voice gradually lowered, filled with emotion.

Russell sat quietly opposite him, like the most patient listener, just as he had done a thousand years ago beside Cersei, remaining silent and allowing Iser to pour out his heart.

With great effort, Iser raised his withered, age-spotted arm, as if admiring a work of art, or examining the traces of a lifetime, his eyes filled with complex emotions: "These hands... have saved 30,725 lives."

His voice began to tremble, tears welled in his cloudy eyes, and his tone was filled with an almost pleading longing: "Teacher...do you think...I...have I caught up with you?"

“Although… I know… you’ve saved… probably millions…” His expression instantly turned to dejection, tears silently streaming down his face, his voice a mixture of extreme expectation and deep-seated insecurity, “But… I’m too old… I can no longer… keep up with you. I…”

“Iser,” Russell interrupted him gently but firmly, his voice carrying a power that seemed to transcend time, “I never saw you shed a tear when you were young and vigorous, but now that you’re old and frail, you’re all weeping and wailing?”

He paused, his gaze fixed intently on the aging student before him, and said clearly, word by word, "And remember, no true healer needs my approval. From the moment they choose to extend a helping hand and save the first life, they no longer need anyone's approval."

……

Amber Medicine Scroll: Chapter Fourteen - Passing on the Torch

Russell's words struck like a thunderbolt, causing Iser's cloudy pupils to contract sharply, briefly flashing with an almost clear light.

“Ah… I see…” Iser struggled to catch his breath, coughed a few times, and slowly nodded. “Teacher, I’ve carefully read all your academic papers published over the years, all that innovative medical knowledge… It’s a pity… I’m old, my mind is slow, and I can no longer keep up with your thoughts…”

"Time always takes things away; that's an undeniable law." Russell picked up the teacup on the table, took a sip to moisten his throat, and said, "Over the millennia, I've seen many brilliant minds. But you all seem to have made a pact to come and see me one last time."

"My old heart can't take this kind of repeated farewells." He had a faint, slightly bitter smile on his lips.

“Teacher…” Iser’s voice was so weak it almost faded into the air, “You… are much more tired than me… If I could… I really want to stay by your side forever… to accompany you… as you pursue even greater goals…”

His speech was intermittent, sometimes requiring him to break a sentence into several parts before he could finish it.

"Uh... Teacher... please take care... and... in the past ten years or so... I've been to the edge of the Kuroshio Current... and I've discovered that their expansion rate... is getting faster and faster... you... must be careful..."

"The experiment has indeed hit a bottleneck," Russell admitted frankly, his light blue eyes revealing a steadfast determination. "Even with the combined wisdom of all the scholars in the Divine Enlightenment Tree Garden, we have not been able to fully analyze the nature and origin of the Black Tide. All we can do is continue to deduce and experiment, doing everything possible to slow its progress. But I will continue to do this."

This unwavering will seemed to instantly dispel the last trace of confusion in Iser's eyes.

"Is there anything else you want to ask?" Russell's voice trembled very slightly, almost imperceptibly.

“No…nothing…” Iser shook her head gently, with a sense of relieved weariness. “I’m getting old…I forget everything easily…That’s it…Teacher…I think…it’s time to say goodbye.”

"Just like you said... my story... is almost finished... while your story... continues..."

“I really hope… when you finish writing the last chapter… you can still remember… that boy named Iser who… begged you to accept him at the gate of the Divine Tree Garden… Hehe…” A smile appeared on his wrinkled face, as if he were immersed in a distant and sweet memory.

“You know, Iser,” Russell said calmly, “I’m not good at saying goodbye. There are still unfinished simulations in the lab, so I won’t see you off any further.”

Iser nodded. With his arm, which was practically just skin and bone, he struggled to support his aging body and slowly rose from the chair. Then, he moved very slowly, step by step, toward the door.

Those withered hands turned the doorknob. Just before his final foot was about to step across the threshold, he turned his head stiffly, his gaze falling on Russell one last time: "Teacher... if... there's a tomorrow... I still want... to be your student..."

For a fleeting moment, Iser's back seemed to straighten. All regrets and doubts vanished with the teacher's approval and this heartfelt confession.

Now, all he needs to do is find a peaceful place to bring his life story to a final close.

Iser knew his teacher all too well. He could see that beneath Russell's seemingly cold calm lay a forced restraint. Those brief words concealed a turbulent inner turmoil.

He had heard from his seniors when he was young that this all-powerful teacher was helpless when it came to saying goodbye.

But these words no longer need to be spoken.

……

The door to the lounge closed softly, leaving Russell alone in the silence. This silence enveloped him like a cold fog, leaving him feeling empty inside.

Over the course of a thousand years, he has seen off generation after generation of students and witnessed the return of one life after another.

Sometimes, he even felt that he was not a doctor forgotten by time, but an eternal witness—witnessing the cycle of life and the inevitable arrival of death.

The people around us change every fifty years, a cycle that repeats endlessly.

Fatigue is like a heavy shackle, sometimes even giving rise to extreme thoughts, although these thoughts are always fleeting.

He deeply loved this world and longed to change it. From the moment he left Ceres, he was no longer alone. Ophina, Isos, Erik, Iser… those who once called him teacher, now deceased or soon to be, passed on their love and hopes for this world to him.

This is a sad story, but someone has to keep going, becoming the recorder of the story and the shaper of the future.

Russell sat quietly in the chair for a long time, as if time had stood still.

Only when the sky outside the window turned from bright to dark, and the afterglow of the setting sun completely disappeared below the horizon, did he slowly get up, gently pat his cheeks, and put on his usual calm mask again.

His steps became steady and firm as he walked once again toward his laboratory, filled with the low hum of instruments, and threw himself into the endless research to combat the Black Tide.

The dead are gone, and the living must carry on with even greater burdens. A pang of emotion swept through Russell's mind: if Cephalus were still awake, he would truly like to speak with that ancient Titan about the weight of this "burden of the world."

Unfortunately, I'm afraid that opportunity will never come.

……

Three days later, on a rainy night, Iser peacefully closed his eyes in his room in the Garden of the Gods.

According to his caregivers, he passed away peacefully. He lay on a clean bed with a relieved smile on his face, as if he had drifted into a sweet dream.

His room was tidy and his clothes were clean and neat. On the bedside table were several medical books that represented the culmination of his life's work.

His hands were naturally crossed over his chest, as if he were making a final, silent prayer.

Following the passing of Iser, who was regarded as a legendary senior by other sages and scholars, the Shingo Tree Garden announced a one-day suspension of classes to express deep condolences for this scholar who made great contributions to medicine and the fight against the Black Tide.

His life was legendary and unconventional. Had he not insisted on following Russell's path, he could easily have become a sage of another school of thought.

Several wise men had extended olive branches to him, hoping he would become their successor. But Iser's inherent stubbornness led him to choose a completely different, thorny path of practice.

Iser's funeral was simple, even somewhat austere. But almost all the sages and scholars of the Divine Tree Garden came to the scene.

Russell, the leader of the Tree Court, stood quietly among the crowd. The atmosphere was solemn and quiet, but there was no sound of weeping.

For them, Iser had simply completed his life's task. But those who remained, generation after generation, strived with only one goal—to eliminate the ultimate threat hanging over Onpharos: the Black Tide.

They have neither the time nor the right to wallow in tears until this goal is achieved. The living must carry on the wishes of the departed and move forward.

Under Russell's guidance, generations of scholars and sages, like an inextinguishable torch, have continued to delve into the mysteries of combating the Black Tide. Wherever the Black Tide spreads, this faint flame continues to burn tenaciously.

Perhaps the flames at this moment are not enough to scorch the vast darkness, but one day, these seemingly fragile sparks will surely gather into a prairie fire, burning away the stubborn disease that devours the world.

……

I signed the contract today, which is great. Still asking for free votes. I do have a book club, but I forgot about it a few days ago, and being rather lazy, I didn't mention the group number in the author's chat.

Group number:617289881

I'm a veteran author, and everyone in the group is really nice. Except for a very few people who're always yawning. Everyone's welcome to join!

Amber Seed Medicine Scroll: Chapter Fifteen Janusapolis

A few days later, Russell sat beside Iser's simple tombstone, unscrewed an old bottle, poured the deep red, blood-like liquid into a cup, and gently placed it on the cold stone surface.

The cup contains juice from the ancient pomegranate tree, dating back a thousand years.

He would do this for every brilliant student who passed away but whose name remained. This glass of wine was his last invitation as a teacher to let them savor the flavors that time had imparted.

Around it, seven or eight other equally simple tombstones stand quietly. This cemetery is peaceful and serene, and in summer it is covered with tiny white wildflowers.

All the tombstones face the iconic giant tree of the Divine Enlightenment Tree Garden, as if these sleeping heroes are still gazing upon the temple of knowledge. Here lie the most outstanding souls of the Divine Enlightenment Tree Garden over the past thousand years.

Russell could hardly recall their exact appearances, but he clearly remembered that when facing death, these people were like the wise men in the Ariadne legends, with composure and tranquility.

The poured pomegranate juice is as rich in color as congealed blood, exuding a unique fruity aroma that has been accumulating for thousands of years. The aroma alone is enough to imagine its mellowness.

“You’re from Stikosia, you should be familiar with this taste, right?” Russell whispered to the tombstone. “A gift from Suspended Peak City, stored for a thousand years… you got a good deal.”

He shook the bottle; only a shallow layer remained. "I truly hope that before this bottle is empty, we've already defeated the Black Tide." He paused, his voice returning to its usual concise tone. "I won't go into any more sentimentalities. When that day comes, I'll come and tell you myself."

"Believe me. If a hundred years isn't enough, then a thousand; if a thousand years isn't enough, then two thousand. The one thing I have in abundance is time."

"Just like my teacher said back then, even if you wither away a thousand times, I will still stand here."

"I'm leaving. I hope we can meet again tomorrow. Goodbye."

Russell put the cap back on the bottle, tucked it back into his worn linen medical bag, dusted off his clothes, and got up to leave.

Before the tomb, the cup of bright red pomegranate juice quietly exudes its fragrance. A gentle breeze stirs the surface, creating delicate ripples, as if an invisible figure is bending down to sip it.

Russell returned to the laboratory and resumed his research to combat the Black Tide. Anti-corrosion agents had been developed, and the defense system of the Divine Enlightenment Tree Garden had also embodied countless efforts.

If the Black Tide and its minions ever come to the city gates, he will let them experience the power that this temple of knowledge has accumulated over thousands of years.

Autumn of the 3760th year of the Guangli calendar

A delegation from Janusapolis arrived at the Temple of the Divine Tree, bearing a clear banner, solely to urge Russell to come out of seclusion.

They came seeking medical treatment.

Although Russell had not set foot on the continent of Onpharos as an itinerant physician for nearly seven hundred years, his medical skills were still widely recognized as the undisputed pinnacle of this land. This was a tacit consensus among the high-ranking officials of all the city-states.

Especially after Russell became the de facto leader of the Divine Tree Court, every move he made became extremely valuable.

Therefore, when the city-state's high-ranking officials suffer from intractable diseases and local doctors are helpless, they will send envoys with generous gifts to seek help.

To prepare for the impending cataclysm, under Russell's leadership, the Divine Tree Court had already made preparations. They were united in purpose, stockpiling vast amounts of resources, ready to withstand the onslaught of the Black Tide. Their goal was to save all of Onfaros.

Russell always accepted these generous "consultation fees" without hesitation. Making a trip to treat and save lives allowed him to acquire resources without betraying his original intention of practicing medicine—why not?

As for whether the old incident of being forcibly detained will repeat itself, there is no need to worry now.

Russell was just a doctor with a good reputation in the past. Detaining him would not have been very costly; at most, it would have damaged the reputation of the city-state, which could be covered up.

But today, Russell is the helmsman of a vast intellectual city. More importantly, nearly 70% of the doctors in Onfaros today are directly or indirectly apprenticed to the Divine Tree Court, and tracing their roots, Russell is their patriarch.

Of the remaining 30% of doctors, quite a few admire Russell and take him as a role model. Those truly operating outside the system, the "unofficial doctors," have limited skills and negligible influence.

It could be said that any city-state that dared to detain Russell would be declaring war on the entire medical system of Onfaros. Moreover, Russell's students and followers were spread across all walks of life, his influence extending far beyond the medical field. Only a madman would dare to detain such a well-connected city-state leader.

Moreover, while the Divine Enlightenment Academy is renowned for its academic achievements, it is by no means a place of mere intellectuals. In particular, the Philosophy Department is rumored to possess unfathomable eloquence and formidable martial prowess.

Several city-states that attempted to raid Tree Court in history have now become negative examples in textbooks.

Russell was both surprised and annoyed by the arrival of the Janusapolis mission.

Surprisingly, since the Janusapolis Senate came to power, they have always regarded Russell and the Divine Tree Court as symbols of the decadent old era and as a thorn in their side.

Many of the malicious attacks against Russell originated from the Senate in Janusapolis. This led to a long-standing tension between the two city-states.

The students knew perfectly well what kind of person their teacher was. The slanders of the Janusapolis elders were utter nonsense. Their teacher was working tirelessly to save the world, while they were spouting nonsense from behind the scenes.

Therefore, few decent doctors were willing to treat the senators of that generation. Those they could find were mostly quacks, who not only failed to cure the illnesses but also caused many deaths. This de facto "medical sanction" quickly silenced the noise against Russell.

It was common for high-ranking officials of other city-states to seek medical help, but for Janusapolis officials to make such a high-profile and formal request for medical assistance was unprecedented in hundreds of years. Previously, such requests were at most made on a private level.

Russell's aversion stemmed from the actions of the Janusapolis Senate. They not only wreaked havoc in their own city-state but also turned each generation of saintesses into puppets.

In Russell's view, these shadowy figures were the world's sores. Treating them would only allow the sores to spread, harming more people. So, in a sense, by not saving them, he was saving more people.

The mission quickly explained its purpose: the current saint of Janus, Tirisippius, was suffering from a persistent high fever and was in critical condition.

Since her mother's death, the saint's health had been steadily declining. She seemed to understand her situation, even becoming reluctant to eat. After ten years of living in constant fear under the Senate's oppressive control, her sudden illness was not unexpected.

As the ruler of the Divine Tree Court, Russell accepted the "generous gifts" brought by the delegation, took some rare medicinal herbs from the storeroom, stuffed them into a linen medical kit, and prepared to depart with the delegation.

From a personal perspective, the saint was an innocent victim. As a healer, he had a duty to treat this suffering young woman. Moreover, these supplies would contribute to the survival of Onphalus.

From a broader perspective, the next saint of Janusapolis has not yet been chosen—this generation of saints has no children.

If Tirispeius were to die at this moment, the city-state would inevitably descend into a fierce power struggle. Janusapolis would fall into an unprecedented state of weakness.

Faced with a weakened neighbor, other city-states will find it difficult to remain inactive. The clamor of conflict, which has finally subsided, may very well reignite.

Regardless, this saint must live. Even if Russell utterly loathed the incessantly barking fellows in the Januspolis Senate.

……