The moonlight was hazy, and Han Sheng felt a little itchy in his nose. He wiped it with his hands a few times and wiped the mycelium of Baituo's beard. He did not notice the thin filaments falling as thin as a hair.

Looking up at the sky, thick clouds in the northwest floated over, and I had to hurry up, he thought.

Han Sheng held the iron shovel in his hand and inserted the shovel into the gap in the coffin lid that had just been shoveled out. He pressed it down with force. With the "squeaking" sound, the decaying coffin lid could not bear the prying force and broke. He cleaned the broken wooden board, grabbed the flashlight and shone it into the black coffin.

A human-shaped object covered with white hair lies quietly in the coffin...

Han Sheng was shocked. Why was this thousand-year-old corpse covered with white hair? He looked closely and couldn't help but feel a stern. The white hair was actually growing! The white hair as thin as spider silk came towards the gap in the cover.

Han Sheng glanced at the corner of his eyes and saw a rectangular wooden box about thirty centimeters long and covered with fine dust.

Han Sheng's heart jumped up with a "pop" and he carefully stretched over the iron shovel and gently shoveled the wooden box. When he pulled the iron shovel and grabbed the wooden box, he found that the white mycelium was almost covered with the coffin. He didn't have time to look at the wooden box carefully and quickly climbed into the soil pit.

Under the moonlight, the white beards shook and stretched out the coffin and continued to climb. Han Sheng was shocked, put down the wooden box, grabbed the iron shovel, and desperately filled the pit into the soil, covering the white creatures.

When the raindrops fell in the night sky, the tomb pit had been completely filled, and the thousand-year-old tomb did not leave a trace. Han Sheng wiped away the sweat from his face and finally breathed a sigh of relief.

It was pitch black all over, and I couldn't see my five fingers. Han Sheng pressed the flashlight switch, the filament turned red, and then it stopped lighting up, and the battery finally ran out.

The rain was getting heavier, and the bamboo leaves in the bamboo forest were hitting "rustling" sounds. Han Sheng put the wooden box into the cloth pocket, and there were 27 hand bones retrieved there. He carried the pocket, carried the shovel, and walked back in the dark.

Under the rain and fog, the ghost fire in the bamboo forest disappeared, and the crows probably closed their eyes and fell asleep. Han Sheng could only touch them step by step, hitting the thick bamboo from time to time, scattering a large pile of raindrops.

It took an hour or two to wait until Han Sheng stumbled and came home.

The big yellow dog Benben didn't come to shake his head and tail as usual, and seemed to smell the air in fear, let out a low howl in his mouth, his body trembled and retreated, and retreated into the corner of the main hall.

Han Sheng was very excited and ignored his strange expression. He walked straight into the west room. His father had really not come back yet.

He put down the cloth pocket and lit the oil lamp. Before he could take off his wet clothes, he couldn't wait to take out the wooden box from the cloth pocket and put it under the oil lamp to take a closer look.

The dust in the wooden box had been washed away by rain, revealing a black and red wooden color. This was a red sandalwood box. The wooden box was heavy, without folding or locks, and it was a sliding cover box. The edges of the chute were sealed with fire paint, which acted as a tide and seal. Han Sheng tried to pull it out, so he got up and found a small sharp knife in the stove, and clewed the sealing of the fire paint bit by bit under the lamp.

After scraping for a long time, he finally cleaned it up. Han Sheng suppressed his beating heart, sat upright, took a deep breath, and then carefully pulled out the slide cover slowly...

There was a white linen bag in the box, which looked rough. There was a yellow piece of paper on the cloth bag with black and yellow handwriting on it. Han Sheng carefully picked up the piece of paper and looked carefully under the oil lamp. It turned out that this was a letter, the font was Li, and the brushwork was vigorous and simple, and the letter read:

In the autumn of the 13th year of Jian'an, the Prime Minister beheaded him in Xuchang and entrusted him to a prison to a "Qingnang Jing" and a yin and yang ruler, saying, "Those who obtain this sutra can live." I am a native of Nanshan, Wuyuan, Huizhou Prefecture. Now I ask future generations to bury this sutra with them. If this sutra is seen in the sun of heaven in the future, those who obtain this sutra should hang a pot to save the world. They must not tell their origins, but parents and children cannot be mentioned. Remember, they will not let down the trust of the sutra. In the late winter of the seventh year of Huangchu of Wei.

The more Han Sheng looked, the more shocked he became, and cold sweat dripped from his cheeks.

He had heard his father say since he was a child that the Qingnang Jing was written by Hua Tuo, a miracle doctor during the Three Kingdoms. At that time, he was imprisoned by Cao Cao in Xuchang, Wei capital. He knew that his life was not long, so he wrote his lifelong medical skills into a book called "Qingnang Jing" and handed them to the prisoners, hoping to pass them on to later generations. Unexpectedly, the prisoners dared not accept it. In desperation, Hua Tuo burned his hard work. Unfortunately, his lifelong medical skills were lost in this way. Hua Tuo's name was "现".

Could it be that the Qingnang Sutra, which was more than 1,700 years ago, is still alive?

Under the oil lamp, Han Sheng shivered and slowly untied his skin...

The cloth bag opened layer by layer, and what appeared before Han Sheng was more than a dozen pieces of chaotic and yellowed paper. A green ruler was lying obliquely at the bottom of the box. The papers were thick and rough, with small characters written on both sides of the front and back. The beginning of the piece of paper on the most side was scribbled with three official characters "Qingnang Jing".

This is the Qingnang Jing?

Han Sheng was confused at first, but after a little thought, he realized that papermaking appeared in the Western Han Dynasty. At that time, yellow hemp sheets were used. Although the paper in the Qingnang Jing in front of him was yellow, it was not made of jute. It should be the bark fiber paper improved by Cai Lun in the Eastern Han Dynasty. In the late Eastern Han Dynasty, the warlords were separatist, and the people were displaced, and folk paper was a scarce thing. Hua Tuo was imprisoned in prison and could only get a few pieces of paper. In order to save, he wrote the scriptures in small characters on the fly heads, and there was no possibility of threading them into a book. It seems that these dozen rough and shabby pieces of paper must be Hua Tuo's handwriting back then.

Han Sheng was shocked and looked down again. The following description in the scriptures made Han Sheng more convinced that this was the Qingnang Jing that had been lost for more than 1,700 years.

The following records: Ma Fei San mainly uses mandala flowers, also known as Fengxiaer, mountain eggplant, which has a spicy smell, warm and poisonous smell. In autumn, mandala flowers are collected and dried in the shade. One liter of medicinal use, another chlorine of grass, whole Angelica sinensis, fragrant angelica, and Chuanxiong, stir-fry one qian of Nanxing, and mix three qian of hot wine to make it impossible to get drunk, break through the abdomen and back, and cut and accumulate. If it is in the stomach and intestines, wash it before cutting and removing filth...

When Han Sheng read this, he felt blood rushing, tears filled his eyes, and he couldn't help but be happy. This is the treasure book that the master of the national medical practitioners and doctors in the martial arts world have been dreaming of for thousands of years.

He knew that the mandala flower is a golden flower, and it is widely distributed in the country, so it turns out that it has such a wonderful use.

Han Sheng continued to read in a daze, and before he knew it, the rooster crowed three times, and it was already dawn.

At this time, the big yellow dog Benben barked lightly, and someone in the yard stopped and shouted in a loud voice: "Doctor Zhu, the team notified that all families will start moving their graves today."

Han Sheng hurriedly put away the "Qingnang Jing", put it in the box, stuffed the red sandalwood box under the bedding, then rubbed his eyes and walked out of the door.

The person who came was in his thirties, with a medium figure, a tiger's back and a bear's waist. Han Sheng recognized him as Zhu Biao, the team leader of Nanshan Village.

"Dad has delivered someone's baby and wait for him to come back." Han Sheng told him.

"Okay, but your family should be more active and don't fall behind the revolutionary masses." Zhu Biao said with a slight smile, and then left.

Humph, villain, Han Sheng muttered in his heart. Because of his background, the captain always asked his father for trouble. His ancestors in the countryside were doctors. During the land reform period, he didn't know why he was classified as a rich peasant. I heard that his grandfather had cured the illness of the Kuomintang county magistrate and served the reactionary class.

It was dusk that my dad still didn't come back.

Should I tell my father that I had obtained the "Qingnang Jing"? Han Sheng remembered the letter from the owner of the ancient tomb, and finally decided not to mention it. Since he had requests when entrusting the scriptures, he should abide by it, and he was a thousand-year-old senior.

Han Sheng continued to read day and night.
Chapter completed!