Solving Middle Age Crisis by Intelligence System-Chapter 485 - 300: The Foremost of the Nine Immortal Herbs!
After confirming that the plant in front of them was indeed the thousand-year-old ginseng, Qi Yun exchanged a glance with Chen Wei, who then carefully inspected the surroundings again, but the results were the same as before, with no obvious traces.
The only suspicious aspect was that the soil around the ginseng was very loose, as if a hole had been freshly dug and the plant placed inside.
Qi Yun voiced his doubts to Old Zhao, who pondered for a while before finally giving a very reluctant explanation.
"When the ginseng spirit relocates, it uses its roots to carve out a passage in the soil like a worm, only more precise, moving along and filling the pit behind it with new soil, fearing it might leave traces for others to see."
"Look at this raised circle; it’s formed by the spirit using its roots to gather new soil."
Qi Yun found this explanation too mystical, especially since no one had seen this thousand-year-old ginseng before, and Old Zhao’s imagination seemed quite significant.
But judging from the surroundings, there were indeed no human traces, coupled with Liu Meng’s testimony, proving that Old Zhao hadn’t gotten the location wrong last time.
So the matter carried a touch of mystery...
After finishing a cigarette, Qi Yun couldn’t be bothered thinking about it any more. After all, the ginseng was found; whether it would relocate or not, let’s dig it out and take it away first.
"Brother Meng, let’s get some food first, I’m hungry."
Liu Meng naturally understood his meaning and immediately took off his backpack, pulling out some provisions, peanuts, and most importantly, two bottles of Maotai.
Qi Yun spread the oil paper-wrapped sauce beef on a rock, twisted open a bottle of Maotai, the rich aroma of the liquor mingling instantly with the mountain greenery.
Old Zhao’s eyes immediately glued to the bottle, his Adam’s apple moved involuntarily, but he maintained a stern face: "What are you doing... trying to lure me with this stuff? I really don’t dare touch this ginseng spirit."
"I, an old man, roam the mountains every day; if I offend the mountain spirits, I’m afraid I won’t be able to touch even a single medicine anymore..."
"Grandpa, have a bite first." Qi Yun laughed, stuffing a piece of beef into his hand. "Whether to dig or not, let’s eat something first."
"Look at how far and high these mountains are; if you don’t eat well, where will you get the energy to return?"
Old Zhao’s hand holding the beef was stiff, but his gaze involuntarily drifted toward the open bottle of Maotai.
Liu Meng didn’t keep him waiting long, quickly pouring a small half-cup and handing it over: "Here, Grandpa, take a little drink."
Old Zhao eventually couldn’t resist the temptation in his stomach, accepting the cup, his rough fingers stroking it twice, as if making a last struggle.
Finally, he threw back his head and downed the half cup of Maotai in one go, the spicy liquid sliding down his throat and even brightening his eyes a little.
"Damn it, this liquor... packs a punch!" He smacked his lips, handing the empty cup to Liu Meng, "Fill it up again."
Liu Meng squinted, refilling with another small half-cup.
This time, Old Zhao didn’t rush to drink, instead putting a piece of sauce beef in his mouth and chewing slowly, his eyes drifting uncontrollably toward that thousand-year-old ginseng, muttering who knows what.
The bottle was distributed among the three, and it was soon empty.
Qi Yun wiped his mouth and stood up, saying to the somewhat unsatisfied Old Zhao: "Grandpa, lend me your ginseng digging tools."
Old Zhao, hearing this, put down his cup, his eyes widening: "You... you really want to dig?"
"We’ve found it, can’t just go back empty-handed, can I?" Qi Yun patted his arm, "Don’t worry, if the mountain spirits blame, I’ll take it all on myself, won’t involve you."
Old Zhao’s lips trembled with hesitation, finally reaching into the cloth bag around his waist, pulling out an oilcloth package, inside was a palm-sized small trowel, its wooden handle polished, with a horn-made head.
"Digging ginseng is a skill; you haven’t practiced, easy to ruin such a fine treasure!"
Qi Yun chuckled, taking the horn trowel from Old Zhao’s hand, weighing it a couple of times: "Why don’t you watch and guide me then?"
Old Zhao didn’t reply verbally but walked over to squat down, inserting a twig into the soft soil around the ginseng, drawing a circle on the ground: "Dig along this circle, depth mustn’t exceed an inch, the roots are as fragile as hair, breaking one will lessen its spirit."
He spoke, taking out a red cloth package from his bag, inside were several rusted Copper Coins, placing one at each corner outside the circle, he fell silent.
Qi Yun also squatted down, glancing at Old Zhao, then aimed for a spot outside the circle, and instead of hesitating, he forcefully dug down with the trowel.
The action immediately startled Old Zhao, who grabbed Qi Yun’s wrist with a trembling voice: "Goodness! I said the depth mustn’t exceed an inch! With just one dig, these roots will break into threads!"
Before finishing his words, he suddenly snatched the trowel, spat into his palm and rubbed: "Fine, fine, I’ll do it! You youngsters can’t handle this; don’t spoil such a fine treasure!"
Qi Yun and Liu Meng exchanged a glance, seeing amusement in each other’s eyes.
"Yes, this work is yours, we’re clumsy; besides, the first dig was mine, if the mountain spirits blame, it’ll surely be on me!"
Old Zhao didn’t respond to him further. He first bowed three times to the ginseng, murmuring, "Spirit of the ginseng, forgive us, spirit of the ginseng, forgive us..."
Afterwards, he sat down heavily on the ground, gently stuck the tip of the spade into the ground, rolled up his sleeves, and started working.
Digging for ginseng is not only a technical job but also a test of patience. Impatient people can’t handle it because each dig can take at least an hour or so.
Old Zhao’s hands were steady, and the horn shovel in his hand moved with incredible dexterity. Before long, he had cleared away most of the surrounding soil, revealing the main root of the ginseng.
"See that?"
"This spirit of the ginseng just moved its home, and its root hairs haven’t had the chance to dig deep. It saved us some effort; otherwise, just clearing these hairs would have taken a couple of hours."
Liu Meng nodded repeatedly in agreement from the side, "It’s mainly because your hands are so skilled."
Qi Yun squatted nearby, observing, and the main root of the ginseng was as thick as a child’s wrist. Its earthy yellow skin shone with an oily luster, with dense concentric rings swirling upwards, too many to count.
The most mystical part was the silvery root hairs, dense like silkworm threads. If fully stretched out, they’d probably be two to three meters long.
Just from its size alone, this ginseng was several times thicker than those centennial ginseng roots Qi Yun and the others had dug up before.
According to the Taoist classic "Daozang," the thousand-year-old ginseng, Dendrobium officinale, Tianshan snow lotus, Centennial He Shouwu, aged-fu-ling, cistanche, deep mountain Ganoderma, seabed pearl, and cordyceps are the nine celestial herbs.
This thousand-year-old ginseng ranks first among the nine celestial herbs, so its significance has long surpassed that of ordinary medicinal materials.
As Old Zhao finished clearing the last root hairs, he wiped the sweat off his face, put down the horn shovel, and cautiously held the ginseng in his hands, examining it thoroughly under the sunlight.
"Is this ginseng really a thousand years old?" Liu Meng couldn’t help but ask from the side, his fingers suspended in mid-air, wanting to touch but not daring to.
"A thousand years?" Old Zhao snorted, pointing to the main root, "Count these rings, each year is a ring. I reckon it’s at least twelve hundred years!"
"Do you see this bump? It’s called Baoshan knot. It grew from the ginseng absorbing the essence of the mountains and earth, a treasure that cures all ailments!"
"I also heard about it from the older generation when I was young. This is the first time I’ve seen it..."
Qi Yun leaned in for a closer look. The bump was indeed round, with some particularly sturdy silver hairs wrapped around it, like a small hand tightly hugging the main root. The whole root looked vaguely like a child’s body, which made for a peculiar sight.
No wonder there are rumors that a thousand-year-old ginseng can transform into a child—its resemblance is uncanny.
"Grandpa, how do you preserve the medicinal properties of this thousand-year-old ginseng?"
Old Zhao took out a piece of red cloth over a meter wide from his cloth bag, laid it flat on the ground, carefully placed the ginseng on it, then arranged the small root hairs neatly and slowly folded the red cloth.
After wrapping all the ginseng up, he sighed and handed it to Qi Yun, his eyes filled with evident reluctance.
"To keep this treasure for long, you must use sand storage techniques."
"Find clean river sand, dry it, sift it three times with a bamboo sieve to remove impurities, bury the ginseng in the sand, then place it in a clay pot, seal the pot’s mouth with yellow clay, and store it in a cool, ventilated place. This way, it can last three years."
"But if stored too long, its vitality weakens. It’s best not to keep it too long."
Qi Yun accepted the ginseng wrapped in red cloth with both hands. It felt heavy, around three to four kilograms in weight, whereas those hundred-year-old ginseng roots weighed at most just a few hundred grams.
It felt as though he was holding a warm breath in his hands, which might just be psychological.
According to some experts, wild ginseng grows 3 grams per year, so a twelve-hundred-year-old ginseng should weigh about this much.
"Brother Wei, pack it up," Qi Yun called to Chen Wei, who was keeping watch nearby. Chen Wei quickly came over, took the empty pack from his back, and gently placed the ginseng inside.
The ginseng was dug up, and seeing it was getting late, the group packed up their things, preparing to head back.
Before leaving, Old Zhao solemnly bowed a few more times to the deep pit they had dug, his expression extremely complex.
If Qi Yun and the others hadn’t saved his life and extended him favors, Old Zhao might have preferred to let this thousand-year-old ginseng remain in the mountains forever.
After all, he truly believed this ginseng had turned into a spirit...
That night, tired and dusty, the group returned to Old Zhao’s wooden cabin. After a quick face wash, they set a pot on the stove to stew indescribable meat.
Qi Yun poured Old Zhao a cup of wine, raised his glass, and asked, "Grandpa, this thing has no fixed price. You name a number, and I’ll transfer the money to your account tomorrow."
Old Zhao paused while holding the wine cup, looked up at Qi Yun, glanced towards Chen Wei’s backpack, his throat moving as he slowly spoke. "The money you gave last time was already enough. My older grandson is married and has a house now."
"My old bones won’t last many more years, even if you gave me money I wouldn’t spend it all, so for this spirit of ginseng... I won’t take your money."
