NOVEL WEB Chapter 373: Recovery And Immunity
Han Yu caught sight of Fatty Kui in the distance, sitting cross-legged near one of the supply crates and happily munching on a packet of dried meat.
"You look like you're enjoying yourself," Han Yu remarked dryly as he approached.
"Of course," Fatty Kui said with a grin, patting his round belly. "This place is terrible for everyone else, but for me? The mosquitoes can't get through, the leeches can't bite me, and the elders aren't making me fight anything right now. I call that a win."
Han Yu shook his head. "You're still sweating like a pig in a steam bath."
"That's just… my body's way of releasing impurities," Fatty Kui declared with mock seriousness. "A natural detox."
Not far from them, Wu Shuan sat on a rock with his hair tied back, a damp cloth pressed to his forehead. Even with qi reinforcement, the humidity was visibly wearing him down. His breathing was steady, but the faint flush on his cheeks told Han Yu he wasn't entirely unaffected.
"Still holding up?" Han Yu asked as he passed by.
"I'll live," He replied, though his tone was a touch weary. "It's the air. Feels like I'm breathing through a wet cloth all the time."
Han Yu didn't disagree.
The marsh air was thick enough to taste, carrying the constant scent of stagnant water, rotting plants, and distant animal musk.
By evening, Han Yu had finished his assigned batches and handed them over to the logistics disciples, who began distributing the jars to the healers. The ointment's sharp minty scent soon drifted through the camp as the sick had it applied to their wounds, the cooling effect offering at least a little comfort.
Dinner that night was subdued.
Even those who weren't sick ate in silence, the weight of the situation pressing down on them. The elders moved from group to group, speaking quietly with their aides, no doubt discussing whether the expedition should push forward once the sick recovered—or if they should rest a while more just in case.
Han Yu sat with his back against a supply crate, watching the flickering light of the barrier wards ripple faintly in the humid night air. Outside the protective dome, he could hear faint splashes, distant hisses, and the occasional low, guttural growl from unseen beasts.
For now, the camp was safe. But the marsh had a way of wearing people down—not just in body, but in spirit.
And Han Yu knew they were still far from the most dangerous parts.
Another few days passed in the Southern Marshes, the sweltering heat and constant humidity hanging over the camp like a damp, suffocating blanket. The good news was that the worst seemed to be behind them.
One by one, the sick disciples began to recover. Color returned to pale faces, the feverish shivers eased, and the persistent coughing that had echoed through the night gradually faded into silence.
The elders took this as a small victory. It was true that the march had been delayed, and the pace of the expedition had slowed to a crawl, but at least their morale had not collapsed. No one had died.
That, in itself, was no small blessing.
In the marshes, a single loss could easily spiral into despair, infecting the mood of the entire group more insidiously than any illness. The knowledge that their people could endure this trial without permanent loss gave the disciples a renewed sense of stubborn pride.
Another encouraging fact came from the elders themselves. When the worst of the sickness had passed, Elder Nian of the Alchemy Peak gathered the healthier disciples to explain the situation.
"Those who have already fallen sick," he said, his voice carrying over the muted rustle of the marsh, "will not fall to the same fever again. Their bodies have adapted. This has been recorded many times in our sect's archives, as well as in accounts from explorers and traders who have crossed this forest before us. It is the nature of the illness—survive it once, and you will not suffer from it again."
That knowledge was like a light in the gloom. Some disciples even joked—weakly at first—that they were now "immune warriors" who could walk through the marsh without fear of its pestilent air.
It wasn't entirely true, of course. The marsh still held other threats—deadlier ones. But the joke gave them a way to smile again, and no elder saw fit to discourage it.
The only lingering problem was the marsh's other inhabitants: venomous insects.
Even though the fever could be endured and overcome, the sting of a venomous marsh bug was another matter entirely. Those creatures could inject toxins that brought intense pain, swelling, and sometimes paralysis. Left untreated, they could leave a cultivator too weak to fight or even defend themselves.
To combat this, the elders instructed the Support Division to begin preparing a different ointment—one that served as a potent repellent against these venomous pests. Han Yu heard the order firsthand while delivering a batch of fever ointment to the logistics tent.
He immediately understood the urgency. Unlike the fever, the venom of the marsh's more dangerous bugs had no lasting immunity; every encounter could be a fresh hazard.
The reason they hadn't started making this repellent earlier was simple: the primary herb for the recipe—the Coil Spine Leaf Aloe—wasn't found in the outer ring of the Southern Marshes at all.
It only grew in abundance near the transition zone between the outer and middle rings, thriving in the slightly less acidic soil there. What's more, the ointment had to be made fresh to retain its potency.
The moment the aloe flesh began to dry or lose its moisture, the effect diminished sharply. Storing it for long periods simply wasn't an option.
Now that the expedition had reached this zone, the task became straightforward. The elders sent groups to collect the herb while others set up workstations to process it on the spot. Unlike the fever ointment, which required careful alchemical procedures, this repellent was almost laughably simple to make.