"Otherwise, the roundworms might rot your intestinal wall or run into other organs, which could be fatal," Ji Fengyao earnestly explained to Ma Chengrao about roundworms.

You little brat, serves you right for disrespecting my prince!

Ma Chengrao: "..."

Looking at the innocent face of the little female bandit.

He suddenly felt that the dried tofu strips he was holding with his chopsticks no longer smelled appetizing.

He is indeed very passionate about learning, but it's not to the point of delving into academic questions like whether roundworms can rot the intestinal wall while eating!

"Alright, stop pretending to be all high and mighty," Ji Fengming said, sitting down and handing Ma Chengrao a jar of wine. "I won't beat around the bush. The reason I've called you here is because my sister has obtained an ancient prescription. This prescription only describes the properties of the herbs, not their specific names. I'd like you to help identify what these herbs are. In return, we can take you to the Cuiwei Snowfield."

But I want to know, why are you so fixated on the Cuiwei Snowfield? After all, for ordinary people, the Cuiwei Snowfield is a deadly place that they can enter but never leave, and no one can prove the claim that it contains rare and precious treasures.

"This..." Ma Chengrao silently took two sips of wine, smacked his lips, and was very satisfied with the wine's sweet and mellow taste, but hesitated to speak.

"You can choose not to tell me, but I don't like doing business behind closed doors. You're not the only one in the world who knows the properties of medicines. At worst, I'll just have to go through the trouble of finding a few more doctors," Ji Fengming said, feigning nonchalance and indifference.

"It's not that I don't want to tell you, but I'm afraid you won't believe me if I do," Ma Chengrao said, his face full of struggle.

"How do you know we don't believe you if you don't even tell us?" Ji Fengyao raised her eyebrows slightly, and with a swift movement, snatched the wine jar from Ma Chengrao's hand. "Old sir, if you told others about something as easy as taking something out of nowhere, they wouldn't believe you, but I really did it. So whatever it is, just tell us the truth. We are not ordinary people; we will be able to discern whether what you say is true or false."

Ma Chengrao stared blankly at his still-clenched hand, then stared blankly at the jar of wine he had drunk from in the little bandit's hand.

It took him a long while to come to his senses.

Despite the shock in his eyes, he remained composed and did not ask any further questions.

But when he spoke again, he couldn't contain the joy on his face: "To fulfill my mother's last wish, I'm going to the Immortal Palace to find my father."

"Immortal Palace?" Ji Fengyao felt that this old scholar was joking. Wasn't this the cliché of opening a new map in Earth's fantasy novels?

Although Zhao Qinglian had mentioned that there were legends about the Immortal Palace in the Kingdom of Jialuo, those were just legends. Life is not like a novel or TV series. The so-called immortals and gods are just people with higher cultivation levels in higher planes.

If there are truly great cultivators with such profound cultivation in this world, why don't they go to higher planes with more abundant spiritual energy? Are they just going to sit here and wait to die?

But Ma Chengrao said with certainty: "Yes, it is the Immortal Palace. Before me, my father was Bai Xiaosheng. He was obsessed with the path to immortality and believed that there were immortals and immortal palaces in this world. He spent his whole life searching for them."

Then one day, he told my mother and me that he had found conclusive clues to the Immortal Palace, and then he went into the Emerald Snowfield and never returned.