Chapter 4 Hunt

These Western adventurers, ostensibly seeking adventure, are actually on the hunt for fortune. They greedily seize every opportunity, desecrating monuments and relentlessly pursuing treasure. Their behavior reeks of claiming discoveries while plundering the riches of other civilizations.

They 'discover' ancient civilizations in their homeland, asserting ownership with a gesture that screams, "I have found and I possess," exploiting the wealth of other civilizations.

Consider Egypt's pyramids. They were 'discovered' by conquering gravekeepers, pillaging the pharaoh's treasures, proudly heralding their exploits as great archaeological finds, oblivious to the Egyptians who have thrived for thousands of years. It's evident that the 'indigenous' cannot 'discover' themselves.

Even the 'Mogao Grottoes' were 'discovered' to brazenly strip murals, seize scrolls, and occupy Taoist priest caves while barely acknowledging the negligible 'indigenous.'

Chen Ang sensed that if he hadn't bolstered the Blood Orchid-guarding snake kings, these explorers would continue 'discovering' Borneo Island's magical plant heritage for centuries, shamelessly claiming it for themselves.

The local people's legacy, culture, and sacred relationship with Blood Orchid become mere embellishments in their adventure stories. As for the locals who used Blood Orchid centuries ago to explore witch medicine? They aren't of concern to these outsiders.

Applauding their skilled thievery, Chen Ang couldn't help but cheer for them!

Similar to how Columbus 'discovered' the new continent, Westerners justify their sovereignty over the Americas, and pharmaceutical companies assert dominion over Blood Orchid. This magical 'logic' and 'reasoning' render numerous treasures ownerless, caught amidst claims.

But would Shaman Lang care? Or the indigenous living near Blood Orchid?

Who cares?

With a smile, disregarding the trembling explorers in front of him, Chen Ang turned back to the boat, allowing these 'discoverers' to converse with the original owners! Perhaps the snake kings would agree with their ideas.

Behind him, the man's wretched cries ceased.

In the distance, faint humming sounds drifted from the shore, possibly from a woman.

Struggling, Shaman Lang rose and laboriously made his way to the boat's edge. Smiling, he looked at the two men on the shore, who were neglecting their duty. The injured woman shouted at them desperately, "You devils! Inhumane beings! What you did, raising such demons, will be punished by God!"

Facing the blood-crowned giant snake, Shaman Lang reverently touched its head with his forehead and addressed the woman, "Distant thief! Greed leads to your demise, plotting what doesn't belong to you invites the owner's punishment, isn't it justified? Why not reflect on your inner sins, rather than resenting messengers of punishment?"

"Blood Orchid doesn't belong to you; it belongs to the world!" The woman glared at him with disgust. Her face bore a mix of embarrassment and rage. "You are unworthy; you'll only desecrate it. Only we can make better use of it."

"I understand that you perceive us as naive indigenous people. In your eyes, Borneo Island's culture may be interesting but insignificant, akin to barbaric customs. Because it's seen as inferior, it's deemed unworthy," Shaman Lang sighed deeply, raising his hand to stand in front of her.

"Maybe we're lagging behind, but that doesn't mean we lack value!" A faint black mist coiled around his fingers, pointing at the tip of the shaman's fabric, his eyes gleaming as a dagger suddenly appeared on the back of his hand.

"Go to hell, wizard!" The woman lunged toward him but fell limply halfway.

The white man hurriedly lifted her, only to see her face turn pale, her breath shallow. "This is our culture. See, we can also wield Blood Orchid," Shaman Lang declared, standing before them.

The light in the shaman's eyes dimmed gradually. She cast an angry gaze at Shaman Lang's back, clasped the white man's hand, and passed the dagger to him. She tried to guide the dagger towards herself as a nod of agreement.

Just as he was about to rise, the local guide nearby, Trang, addressed him sternly, "I'm sorry, but I must intervene if you proceed." Turnan stood before him with a local dagger, asserting coldly, "The shaman is right. It's greed that brings death and blinds our hearts. I will seek forgiveness on behalf of the wizard."

When Shamanlang approached Chen Ang again, his garments were tainted with blood. He murmured, "Master, Trang sustained some injuries, and I helped him to the upper level."

Chen Ang focused on the bronze shovel before him, nodding to signify his understanding.

The delicate silver-frosted carbon emitted a steady, pure firepower when pressed against the base of the copper furnace. With precise control by Chen Ang, the furnace's temperature subtly shifted.

Blood Orchid, a medicinal treasure in Middle-earth, differs from gentle, balancing medicinal plants like Ganoderma lucidum or ginseng. When handling it, one must tread gently with its property, maintaining equilibrium akin to walking a tightrope.

While Chen Ang personally favored extreme practices, it didn't stop him from using traditional methods to test Blood Orchid's medicinal properties. The stoves were stocked with high-quality medicinal materials from Earth, each personally identified by Chen Ang. Even the prior processing was left untouched by human hands, allowing for a better understanding of the auxiliary drug's medicinal properties, effectively exploring Blood Orchid's characteristics. Piles of processed drugs lay nearby, mainly powdered, a small portion in liquid form, and few whole herbs.

Most of these ingredients were turf fibers, capable only of burning at high temperatures. They wouldn't melt into a medicinal liquid, as often depicted in novels. Extracting the medicinal property from the material was necessary; otherwise, it would leave behind mere burnt remnants.

Although Chen Ang could have extracted the medicinal ingredients using modern methods, given the experimental nature of alchemy, it was imperative to use ancient techniques to synthesize medicinal pills from powders, medicinal liquids, and pre-treated drugs.

This practice of alchemy was more akin to Hedan than true alchemy.

The water in the chamber slightly whitened, and the aroma of medicine wafted through the laboratory. A few blue lines floated atop the clear water, exuding the essence of herbs. Chen Ang sprinkled cinnabar at the furnace's base, followed by a layer of stone grease atop it, repeated three times, then laid a layer of ore.

The chamber hovered above the furnace's base, enveloped in heat waves.

Initially using bear bile and a warm medicine concoction, an excellent qi tonic, Chen Ang, derived this from teachings learned and refined it. Two bear galls were placed atop the concoction. He sprinkled a handful of spring water at the furnace's base and covered it with the stove lid.

Chen Ang's hands rested against the furnace wall, causing Shaman Lang, observing from the side, to fret. The bronze furnace's temperature was hovering around four to five Baidu, hot enough to peel off a layer of skin upon contact.

Chen Ang remained composed, seemingly unaffected. The white vapor rising gently from the stove coalesced into a canopy, covering the furnace's top. Shaman Lang, not versed in Chinese alchemy, would have been astounded by such a sight.

This furnace maintained an extremely stable temperature, subtly blending medicinal properties, undergoing the right transformations, all veiled within this medicine-infused cloud. Chen Ang concentrated, controlling the internal forces with precision.

As he reopened the lid, Shamanlang didn't feel the usual rush of heat. Instead, he witnessed the air inside the stove subtly distort, evidently in a sealed, high-temperature state, yet so smooth that it didn't disrupt the airflow.

Chen Ang's pointed finger seemed to puncture an invisible barrier, releasing a burst of hot air within the pill furnace, causing Shamanlang to feel a heated gust. Positioned at the front, Chen Ang grabbed a handful of powder, evenly sprinkling it along the intense wind formed inside the stove.

Within the hot air, the powder coalesced into a ball and adhered to the slightly melted bear bile, evenly spread across its surface.

The slightly golden bear bile emitted a fragrant aroma, but this was only the initial step. Chen Ang carefully enveloped the dry Blood Orchid flower powder around the bear bile, soaking it in a mixture of several medicinal liquids before sealing the lid once more.

This time, Chen Ang didn't need to meticulously maintain the furnace's temperature. He instructed Shamanlang to monitor the stove's temperature to ensure it didn't deviate by more than 10% within a specific timeframe. He then rose to delve into other matters.

Two days later, Chen Ang cautiously unveiled the lid, revealing two large red blood beads nestled quietly inside. A splendid brilliance glimmered from the beads, akin to the finest agate in the sunlight. Upon contact with the external air, the blood beads quickly dulled and darkened, losing their initial radiance.