Chapter 168: The Bizarre Condition

The central region of this continent is dominated by a vast, sprawling forest and endless mountain ranges.

Granny Wanjun’s village is situated close to the southern edge of this great forest.

By walking out of the forest and taking a small path that bypasses the border outpost, one can reach the black market.

At this moment, however, A-Bang was utterly exhausted as he made his way back to the village.

He had gritted his teeth and sprinted all the way, draining his inner spiritual reserves time and time again.

When Old Man Yu shouted at them to run, A-Bang, who was far from foolish, had quickly assessed the situation on the field... and it was bad—terribly bad!

He immediately urged the other elders to move out first, while he stayed behind to act as a rear guard, observe, and catch up later.

Hiding in the shadows, A-Bang witnessed the entire battle unfold, and the sight of it churned his heart with turmoil.

It was only when Qiao Mugua began ordering his men to clear the battlefield and seized Granny Wanjun and Old Man Yu, forcing them onto a carriage, that A-Bang realized he alone was powerless to turn the tide.

Resolutely, he unleashed his "Swift Runner" skill and vanished silently into the mountain forests.

By the time he caught up with the group of elders, A-Bang only had time to gasp out a single sentence:

"You are safe. I have an urgent matter and must return to the village to report first. Make sure you keep up, grandfathers."

It wasn't that he didn't want to explain the details to the old men; rather, he knew this group of gossipy old codgers all too well.

Once he told them that Granny Wanjun had been captured, the old men would either sigh lamentably, unleash a torrent of colorful curses, or roll up their sleeves and head right back into danger.

Not a single one of them was someone he could hold back.

Therefore, he chose to return to the village first, hoping there was still someone in charge there.

Well... perhaps!

The Village Guardian supported him as they walked deeper into the settlement.

Their destination was the largest building in the village.

Built against the mountain and surrounded by dense trees, it stood beside a winding stream of melting snow, with its front yard blanketed in fallen yellow leaves.

To an outsider, the withered leaves and brownish hues of the old lodge might have seemed like a picturesque scene.

To A-Bang, however, everything about it reeked of the abnormal.

After all, it was already early spring—a time when tender green shoots should have been bursting from the branches, not resembling the depths of autumn.

Most crucially, the entire village was utterly devoid of life.

Above the main entrance hung a wooden plaque, carved with three large, seal-script characters: "Wanjun Pavilion."

This was not Granny Wanjun’s residence, but rather the council hall where the villagers gathered for meetings.

The Village Guardian pushed open the wooden doors for A-Bang, revealing yet another tragic scene within.

The interior was packed to capacity, filled entirely with young people who had fallen ill and collapsed onto the floor.

This place had been converted into a temporary infirmary.

Before setting out, Granny Wanjun and the others had issued a temporary decree to transform Wanjun Pavilion into a shelter for patients.

Anyone suffering from severe symptoms was to be brought here for centralized treatment, and everyone later agreed that this decision had been remarkably wise.

Inside, the sounds of coughing and sneezing echoed one after another, mingling with delirious ramblings from raging fevers and agonizing groans.

Moving busily among them were elderly figures with stooped backs.

Though equally exhausted in appearance, they gritted their teeth and gave every ounce of effort they could muster.

Their faces wore expressions of utter fearlessness, completely unconcerned about whether they might be the next to fall—a sight that inspired deep reverence in the young people.

With meticulous care, the old folks used melted snow to wipe down the arms and legs of those unconscious with high fevers, placing cool towels across their foreheads and gently smoothing them out with rough, calloused hands.

Whether the person lying before them was their own child or the neighbor next door, the elders' eyes held nothing but boundless affection.

Knowing that many people had lost their voices and might not be heard if they called out, someone had devised a brilliant solution: beside every patient lying on the floor, a makeshift signaling device had been placed.

It could be a basin, a bowl, or a pot—anything that could be struck to make a sound.

A-Bang was stunned by the scene before him, and he asked the Village Guardian in sheer disbelief:

"How... how are there so many people?"

He clearly remembered that before he left, the number of people lying inside Wanjun Pavilion hadn't even reached a third of this. In such a short span of time, the place was practically bursting at the seams.

"Just over the past day or two, people have been carried in every single moment. By now, practically the entire village is like this!" the Village Guardian explained with a bitter expression.

"Wait, the young people are here, and the elders are here, but what about the children? How are they doing right now?"

A-Bang’s mind drifted to a terrifying thought.

"I know what you want to ask. Rest assured for now, most of the children are fine.

"For some unknown reason, just like the elders, they seem to possess extremely strong resistance against this plague sweeping through the village.

"However, they've all been strictly ordered to stay indoors and aren't allowed outside, for fear they might get infected too."

A-Bang let out a long breath, relieved that the absolute worst had not come to pass, but immediately began to curse in frustration:

"What on earth is this disease? It struck so suddenly and is so virulent!"

The Village Guardian's grip on A-Bang's arm tightened inexplicably.

A-Bang paused slightly, looking straight into his eyes with a questioning gaze, and asked sternly:

"Your reaction just now—tell me, what else is going on?"

The Village Guardian stammered, his words stumbling:

"A... A-Bang, starting last night, some of the elderly volunteers who were helping out have also collapsed."

"And... and once they fall, the sudden onset of their illness is even more severe than the youths'."

"It's just that they refuse to take up space here; they've all chosen to recover in their own homes!"

"What?!" A-Bang roared after hearing this.

His voice drew the sideways glances of everyone in the hall, and shortly after, several elderly people hurried over—they were the village physicians.

The leading elder wiped his hands, his lean and haggard face unable to conceal his exhaustion, for he had gone several days without rest.

Yet his bloodshot eyes remained sharp, and his spirit remained unyielding, as if fueled by an endless well of strength.

Taking the lead, the old physician asked with great, burning hope:

"A-Bang, did you manage to buy the medicine? Why isn't Wanjun with you?"

Now it was A-Bang's turn to stammer. The words he had so carefully rehearsled along the journey back stubbornly refused to pass his lips.

Amidst the anxious anticipation of the crowd, he spoke with a trembling voice:

"Disaster... disaster struck. Something went wrong during the transaction!"

The old physician stared at him in utter shock.

The rest of the crowd furrowed their brows as well. What did those words mean?

They exchanged bewildered glances, momentarily unable to comprehend what A-Bang was trying to say.

Waving his hand to signal everyone to calm down and steadying his emotions, the old physician said:

"A-Bang, tell us the full story of what happened on this trip."

Then, as if suddenly remembering something, he turned and called out into the depths of the hall:

"Dima, come out for a moment, A-Bang is back!"

The crowd parted, their gazes stretching across the entire hall.

In a far corner deep within the room, a young girl was crouching, her back turned toward the entrance.

She was holding a medicine bowl, attentively feeding a high-fever patient.

Hearing the old physician calling her from the doorway, the girl straightened up and spoke in a soft, gentle whisper:

"Get some rest for now. I'll be right back and finish feeding you in a moment."

Her voice was soft, clear, and as sweet as spring water.

Clutching the medicine bowl, she broke into a trot and hurried toward them.