Early the next morning, Lü Zhong arrived at Li Dong's house.
Unlike the middle-aged woman who had answered the door last time, this time it was a wrinkled old woman. One of her eyes was terribly clouded over, seemingly blind.
He walked into the house as if it were the most natural thing in the world, accustomed to the old woman's awestruck gaze.
Once inside, he could smell the pungent scent of medicinal herbs lingering in the air.
Accompanied by a soft tune, Li Dong emerged from the bedroom, humming a cheerful nursery rhyme while cradling a sleeping boy in his arms.
It was painfully obvious that the boy's face had a deathly, sallow pallor; his life was hanging by a thread. No wonder Li Dong had been so desperate to find the Coffin Mushroom yesterday.
"Fellow Daoist Lü, what have you decided?" Li Dong asked in a low voice, as if afraid of waking the boy.
"Well..." Lü Zhong glanced at the boy, but decided to voice his thoughts anyway.
