On New Year's Eve, Li Banfeng was sitting at the entrance of Guotie Village, stewing medicinal herbs.
The fragrance of the medicine filled the air, attracting swarms of mosquitoes. More than ninety percent died upon contact with the mist. Ninety percent. Yet, less than ten percent did not die immediately. This small fraction alone could ruin an entire village's harvest.
Not just one village, but the whole of Hai Chi Ridge suffered this plight.
Like all other medications, Elder Yao's remedy was highly effective initially, but similar problems would arise after some time.
The village chief of Guotie Village sat down beside Xiang Jichun and Li Banfeng, laughed, and said, "It's New Year's! Come to my place for a bowl of dumplings and a drink."
Li Banfeng shook his head. "You go ahead and drink. I'm not hungry."
"Seventh Master, you've poured your heart into our village. We won't forget your kindness."
