Aromatic Wheat Dukedom, Flying Fish Port.
In a side house of a residence in East City District.
"Eh?"
On the wooden bed, the young Ivan slowly sat up, sitting on the edge of the bed.
He looked around blankly, then at himself; everything felt familiar yet strange.
Where is this?
Why can I move?
With those questions in mind, nurous pieces of information naturally surfaced in his brain: his na was ’Ivan Marichardon,’ he was thirteen and a half years old, lived in the East City District of Flying Fish Port, and was a knight’s page boy.
He was even more bewildered - the sick, paralyzed him had sohow co to another world and beco soone else.
"Thump-thump-thump---"
The abnormal heartbeat brought his thoughts back to reality; it was a warning from his body.
He realized that this body wasn’t healthy either. In addition to the too-fast, too-heavy heartbeat, there was a large swelling on his left arm. The skin on the swelling was purplish-brown, resembling a blockage of congealed blood, with a tiny black hole in the center and blue veins around it like fearso earthworms.
Damn it! The swelling was even larger than a fist.
There must be two more swellings on his back, where he felt numbness and stiffness.
"Could it have been the bite of so insect?"
His face was very pale, at that mont, so unpleasant images surged into his mind.
He went on an adventure with two friends, in a cave at the base of a cliff by the sea, they found a dilapidated ship and searched for the sunken treasure. But they disturbed a swarm of large, unknown flying insects that looked like water spiders or oversized mosquitoes, buzzing and diving straight at the three of them.
The three of them ran desperately to escape, with Ivan in the lead. As he neared the exit, soone pulled him back forcefully. He lost his balance and the other two took the opportunity to run ahead, one of them quickly closing the door behind them, trapping him inside.
In the chaos, he couldn’t open the door. Fortunately, the ship was broken down, and he managed to jump into the water and escape by swimming ashore, reaching ho in a daze.
And then, he fell into a deep sleep.
"Damn, Rosyth and those two swordsn, just you wait."
His predecessor had died such a heedless death, and now he felt as if he were in his shoes. He cursed angrily, determined to make those two pay.
"Hiss—it’s almost numb."
Ivan stopped his chaotic thoughts, changed his clothes, took a few silver coins, and hurriedly left the house.
Having been granted a second life, with a functioning body, he couldn’t let it go to waste.
"Ivan, Mr. Ivan, where are you going?"
Watching the boy’s retreating figure without looking back, Aunt Kasey called out a few tis, but he disappeared from view.
She sighed softly, that little Mr. Ivan was becoming more unruly each day. She would need to talk to his employer, Mr. Leider; otherwise, she might be held responsible if anything went wrong.
...
Ivan walked south, crossing several streets, until he arrived in front of a dical clinic located next to an alley at the end of a street.
The door to the clinic was half-open.
The palpitations in his chest urged him not to delay any longer; he entered directly, imdiately slling the mixed aromas of various herbs. Inside, there was a limping old man with white hair—Old Orio.
"Tsk, tsk."
Old Orio was the only doctor in the clinic, his thin face marked by a birthmark that looked like it had been scorched by flas.
Those who knew Old Orio were aware of his genuinely bizarre temperant.
At the mont, he was making impolite noises with his mouth while staring at Ivan’s arm, then blurted out, "You’re actually still alive?"
Does he see sothing?
Ivan’s heart skipped a beat, but he didn’t dare say anything and just looked at him uneasily.
"You’re one lucky lad; the poison must have dissipated quite a bit in the water."
"Besides, you’re fortunate to have found ."
"This is a potent venom secreted by a mutated insect. Apart from , no one else in Flying Fish Port could treat you," Old Orio stated his diagnosis unhurriedly, barely concealing his self-satisfaction.
Seeing his confidence, Ivan pleaded, "Mr. Orio, please, I rely on you."
"Let see, do you feel anything here---nothing, huh? What about this side?---Your back is in much better shape than your arm. I’ll treat your arm first and wait; I need to grab a basin. I can’t waste the poisonous blood; it’s been years since I’ve seen such a potent toxin---"
Beside the workbench, Old Orio continued talking as he treated Ivan, taking a basin and placing it under the arm he was about to treat.
He applied an ointnt, made three cuts over the large swelling, squeezed out the poisonous blood, and rinsed it with a green liquid, the pungent odor wafting through the air.
Pungency was secondary; pain was the key issue.
Ivan’s arm couldn’t stop shaking.
"Don’t tremble, pain is a good sign. If it didn’t hurt, that would be a real problem."
Suddenly, Old Orio struck his wound with a fist, causing Ivan to grit his teeth and grimace. Angry but unable to protest, he cursed the quack internally.
Old Orio kept squeezing hard on the swelling, and more poisonous blood flowed with the green liquid into the basin.
The intense pain made Ivan’s eyes water.
It was excruciating; had it not been for Old Orio’s iron-like grip holding his arm, he would have drawn his arm back long ago.
When Old Orio finally stopped squeezing, the swelling on the forearm was left a re deflated layer with red blood slowly seeping out.
He sprinkled so reddish copper powder on the wound, which instantly stemd the blood flow, taking just a second or so, as if it had encountered its nesis.
This alleviated pain allowed Ivan to take a closer look.
On second thought, of course, this world had knights and Combat Energy, as well as even more mysterious sorcerers, so it was quite normal for dications to have extraordinary effects.
"Making a fuss over nothing."
Old Orio took an exquisite glass vial with golden patterns inlaid on it, seemingly an item of nobility, and scooped a spoonful of ointnt from it. He spread it evenly over the swelling and wrapped it with cotton and coarse cloth.
He then treated Ivan’s back. After a flurry of activity and more wrapping with glue, cotton, and coarse cloth, the treatnt was complete.
"Drink this."
After treating the wound, he handed over a small bottle of dark green potion.
Old Orio bumped his shoulder and rudely squeezed him aside, busying himself with tidying up.
The old man really had so strength.
Ivan stumbled a few steps to the side before he regained his balance. He downed the dark green potion in one gulp and glared fiercely at a certain old man with his eyes.
This vet—no, quack, wasn’t he afraid of dical disputes?
Suddenly, Old Orio turned back, their gazes t, and Ivan squeezed out a polite yet slightly awkward smile.
"You brought money, kid?"
"Yes."
"How much?"
"Nine silver coins."
Ivan answered truthfully; it was all he had, and he expected it wouldn’t be enough.
By now, the palpitations in his chest had subsided, and his heartbeat beca even steadier. The coolness settled over his sliced wound as if an ice pack had been applied, and the whole person felt a weight being lifted, all unmistakably pointing to the other’s expertise.
Once Old Orio heard ’nine silver coins,’ his eyes bulged even more, seemingly hiding knives in them.
"You think nine silver coins can save your life? Those are all top-quality dicines."
"Probably not."
Ivan shook his head, then added, "How about I pay the nine silver coins first, and for whatever amount I’m short, I’ll figure out a way to make it up in a few days and pay you back."
Old Orio was silent for a while before turning his head back and speaking, "Today’s treatnt costs two gold coins, and you’ll need to co in two days with one gold coin. Rember to co here and work~ Do odd jobs for , and we can talk about the rest when your father cos back."
"Alright."
Life was saved by the other, Ivan never thought to run out on the bill.
Three gold coins, equivalent to three hundred silver coins, amounted to three months’ expenses for his family; he certainly couldn’t afford this sum.
His father was a leader of a rcenary group, and with frequent injuries on missions, visits to the dical hall were not uncommon. They knew each other well.
As for the odd job arrangent, he guessed it was Old Orio’s temper, deliberately making things difficult because he did not like the look of him.
"Mr. Orio, thank you for saving my life."
A while later, Ivan clumsily stuffed a booklet titled ’Notes on Doing Odd Jobs’ into his pocket as he left the dical hall, and the sky outside was already darkening.
Perhaps because the mories had rged thoroughly, as he looked around at the green bricks and black tiles along the streets, and at the passersby with brown hair, red hair, blue eyes, and black eyes, he didn’t feel unfamiliar. Instead, there was a kind of comforting routine.
"It feels good to be able to move."
He walked towards ho, his steps exceptionally light.
For a young man who had been paralyzed for nearly half a year and was diagnosed as untreatable, being able to walk and jump was a form of happiness.
Before he reached his family’s estate, he saw from afar a young girl with a stern face eagerly watching him.
The girl had bright eyes and white teeth, brown hair, and black pupils, sowhat resembling a certain ’know-it-all’ young lady.
She deliberately kept a stoic face, trying to muster so authority as she called out, "Wandering around so late, have you been fighting and gotten hurt again? How did you get so injured? Who did it?"
The girl was his twelve-year-old sister Peggy, and to Ivan, it felt like facing an older sister.
Ivan replied, "I was stung a few tis by so bugs, just ca back from the dical hall."
"You didn’t go to so remote cave, did you? Serves you right for showing off and suffering the consequences."
Peggy chided softly while reaching out to support him.
Ivan felt embarrassed as she actually hit the nail on the head.
A figure erged from the room, running and saying, "Ivan, did you guys go on an adventure? That’s not fair, not taking with you."
"Shut up, Sean. Brother Ivan is hurt and needs peace and quiet."
"Oh."
This was his brother Sean, also twelve years old, a twin to Peggy and the youngest in the family.
Sean was equally playful, and considering his predecessor’s personality, Ivan understood why it was Peggy who took the reins of the household.
The Marichadon family had a peculiar phenonon: five siblings, the eldest two were twin brothers, the fourth and fifth were fraternal twins. The only elder left in the house was their father, who was busy with the rcenary group. The two older brothers had always followed their father and were taught attentively.
Ivan was the third in line.
Because he wasn’t valued by his father, he always acted out for attention, becoming more rebellious after their mother’s death.
"The miserable third, neither here nor there, not even entrusted with the family’s Knight Breathing thod."
After dinner, back in his room, Ivan felt wistful over his past mories.
"Starting to work to repay debts at thirteen and a half, life couldn’t get any stranger."
He took out the book Old Orio had shoved into his hand, preparing for his upcoming stint as a worker, and besides, he was greatly interested in the dicines that Old Orio used.
Fifty Commonly Used Herbs
Handwritten in Fandani, the common language of the Aromatic Wheat Dukedom.
"Did he give the wrong book?"
Ivan paused, but this did not hinder his reading enthusiasm.
In his previous life, when he found himself at wits’ end, he read traditional dicine books, desperately trying to cure himself, and was not unfamiliar with dical texts.
This book featured textual descriptions, diagrams, and ticulous detail, yet the herbs described were completely unfamiliar; not one was recognizable to him.
Take the Black Spider Flower, for instance—at first glance, it looked like a spider crouching in the center of the flower. This was actually the pattern in the center of the flower, resembling a black spider poised to jump.
The flower could emit a unique scent that hunted spiders, used to repel insects. The petals marked with spider patterns were the herbal material; after being fumigated and processed, they would curl into slender sticks, which were the finished product called ’Spider Flower Claw.’
By adding a type of spider gland fluid, a potion could be made to eliminate foul odors, which was quite fascinating.
The book broadened his horizons, and he gradually beca absorbed in the words and pictures within.
At a certain mont, his head suddenly grew heavy, and strange illusions started appearing before his eyes, obscuring his vision and startling him into shrinking back, trying to avoid whatever it was.
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