Old Ginseng Guai Yaoguai Chiefs

Location

Found near the Towers of Karma shrine in the Valley of Ecstasy by following these steps:

• Follow the path to the right as it curves past the temple and towards a patch of dirt
• Interact with the red flower in the middle of the dirt to summon the boss

Description

This story was told by a pharmacist in the city, and it concerns a secret about his cousin’s family.

The cousin’s ancestors were originally ginseng gatherers in the mountains. For some unknown reason, they abandoned their old craft and became woodcutters.

Although the family was not wealthy, everyone lived long lives.

From a young age, the cousin often saw a shabby, unkempt old man visiting their home. Whenever he came, the family would prepare a lavish meal and fine wine for him to enjoy alone. At the time, the cousin despised the old man, thinking he was a freeloading drunkard who seldom spoke and often caused trouble when drunk.

One day, the old man visited again for a drink while the cousin’s great-grandmother fell gravely ill with typhoid fever, seemingly on the brink of death. Upon hearing about her critical condition, the old man went into the courtyard, reached into the ground with both hands, and out crawled numerous vines. Among the vines grew a small seedling that quickly matured, blossomed, and bore fruit. The old man pulled it out, revealing a Millennium Ginseng. After the great-grandmother drank the ginseng soup, she miraculously recovered and remains healthy to this day.

It was on that day that the cousin seemed to come to a realization and began to treat the old man with great respect, as if he were a member of the family.

The cousin once invited the pharmacist to move to the mountains and live with him, but the pharmacist flatly refused.

The pharmacist explained, “Although your family enjoys longevity, they live on bland meals every day, and life in deep mountains are too lonely. I still prefer to live in the city. Hence, I cannot go with you.”

Just take the story as a fun anecdote.

Poetry

Scatters o’er the mountain’s crest,
Rich soil births, dews of the best.
Seven ounces common, eight ounces rare,
A slight difference, fortunes lay bare.