Chapter Ninety-Six: The Herb

“Good child, you’re back.”

The elderly woman hurried over, grasping the werewolf’s hands tightly. She had been unable to find her these past few days, and the worry had taken its toll; she looked even more aged, having eaten and slept poorly.

Holding the werewolf’s hands, her expression suddenly changed—she noticed how cold they were. Thinking she must be freezing, she cupped her palms and blew warm breath onto her hands to warm them.

“Come, let’s go inside. Don’t werewolves love candied hawthorn? Grandma bought you a big, sweet skewer!”

With that, the elderly woman turned and, slightly stooped and bent with age, walked toward the dilapidated temple. The werewolf did not follow but stood in place, tears welling in her eyes as she watched her.

“Grandma.”

The werewolf called out again. Surprised, the elderly woman turned around. This time she heard clearly, and shock filled her eyes. Deeply moved, she never expected the werewolf to speak—especially to call her that. It was both unexpected and an honor, and she rushed forward, embracing the werewolf tightly.

As the werewolf was held, a faint glow began to emanate from her body. With the removal of the soul pin from the Corpse Spirit Hall, her spirit was about to scatter, disappearing from this world forever.

She was reluctant to leave, with so many things left undone, filled with hope and dreams for this world. She did not want to depart now; she cherished this place deeply.

Now, she had one more family member—a kind person who loved her—a grandmother figure. This made it all the harder to leave her behind.

“Here! This... can... cure illness.”

The werewolf struggled to say the words as she retrieved an herb from her body and handed it to the elderly woman. When the werewolf had fallen ill, the woman had spent whole days in the temple brewing medicine.

Since then, the woman had developed a persistent cough, sometimes severe. The werewolf felt deeply guilty and kept searching for a cure.

She remembered once visiting a doctor’s pharmacy. While the doctor was treating her with acupuncture, a patient with a cough arrived.

The symptoms were milder than the elderly woman’s, but the werewolf took note of the herb the doctor used.

After the acupuncture, the werewolf pushed aside the cabinet and took out the herb, wanting to ask the doctor what it was.

The doctor said it was for treating coughs and not for eating, warning her not to tamper with it. The werewolf, unable to speak or explain properly, grew desperate and finally stuffed the herb into her mouth.

The doctor quickly stopped her, seeming to understand at last. “You want to use this herb to cure someone?”

The werewolf nodded vigorously and gave a thumbs-up to show the doctor how clever he was.

The doctor continued, “This herb only works in early stages of illness. If it’s severe, another herb is needed—one that’s very hard to find!”

Judging by the werewolf’s anxious expression, the patient’s condition seemed grave.

Fearing she might not understand, the doctor added,

“If it’s serious, only that herb will work. But it grows on steep cliffs and is very dangerous to obtain.”

The werewolf appeared to understand and patted her chest, then showed the scars on her arm—signaling she was not afraid of hardship or danger.

Living among the wolf pack, she often faced fierce beasts and had countless injuries. Compared to those, gathering a single herb was not so difficult.

But as it turned out, she was wrong!

The herb she sought looked ordinary on the outside—just two leaves. The strange thing was that one leaf was purple and the other white.

Eventually, she found this peculiar herb on a cliff behind Wolf Mountain, but it was very high up.

There was no path, so she had to climb with her hands. Worse still, a pair of monster beasts—tiger-headed eagles—had nested on that cliff.

Whenever she tried to climb and take the herb, they mistook her for an egg thief and struck her down with their sharp talons, sending her crashing to the ground.

Falling was the lesser injury. More painfully, her arm was torn raw several times. Yet she refused to give up, biting her teeth and clawing into rock crevices with her nails, barefoot, inching her way up.

After countless failures, even the tiger-headed eagles gave up attacking, instead watching her warily from their nest.

Finally, when she reached the cliff top, she plucked the herb, raised it high, then collapsed weakly onto the clearing, smiling with joy on her face.

Taking the herb from the werewolf, the elderly woman’s eyes reddened with tears. Her cough had afflicted her since youth, flaring each winter. While caring for the werewolf had worsened it, fatigue had been the main cause.

She had asked the doctor about the special herb but was deterred by its cost.

Thinking of her old bones and limited years left, she chose not to waste the money and left it untreated.

The werewolf certainly did not have the money to buy it, so she had risked her life to gather it herself.

Accepting the herb, the elderly woman’s eyes glistened with gratitude. Suddenly, she saw the glowing spots on the werewolf multiply and drift upward toward the sky.

“Grandma, the werewolf... loves... you!”

The werewolf spoke with difficulty once more. Starting at her feet, she transformed into golden specks of light and vanished. The elderly woman reached to hold her but grasped only empty air.

At this moment, the werewolf’s body was more like a beam of light.

“I love the werewolf too! Don’t go, don’t go...”

The elderly woman’s eyes were red from crying as she choked out these words. The werewolf’s hands had already disappeared, unable to embrace or comfort her. Yet she turned her face to the woman’s right cheek and gently kissed it.

This was something she had learned from a female hunter: to show love, kiss the person’s cheek and say you love them. If they love you back, it brings great joy.

After the kiss, the werewolf’s body vanished up to her neck. She smiled faintly at the white wolf father, as if thanking him for years of companionship and care.

Nearby, the white wolf’s eyes brimmed with tears. Watching the werewolf disappear into golden light carried by the wind, he howled into the sky. Then, all the white wolves on the mountaintop joined in a unified call, as if bidding farewell.

Standing aside, Li Pingyang’s mood was heavy. Even knowing the truth behind the Li family’s massacre did not bring relief. Rather, he wished he could return to ignorance.

From his pocket, Li Pingyang took out an item and handed it to the elderly woman. It was an unfinished wooden figurine he had taken from the white wolf’s mouth—a piece the werewolf had originally entrusted to Li Da to give to the elderly woman.

After Minister Fang’s departure, the white wolf had visited the Li residence and, seeing the wooden figurine fallen beside Li Da’s corpse, recognized it immediately as belonging to the werewolf and carried it away.

Taking the wooden figurine, the elderly woman saw her own careful carving by the werewolf and instantly broke into sobs.

She recalled how, every time she cooked, the werewolf would secretly watch her, mysteriously holding something—the figurine she had been carving.

All the memories flooded back, and the woman cried harder, clutching the wooden figure tightly to her chest, as if feeling the werewolf still beside her, never truly gone.