"In that way, the Ice Silk Worm—whose nature would normally remain unchanged for life—can begin to spin a cocoon and produce silk. Once the threads are woven, the resulting fabric becomes a top-grade material: impervious to blades and spears, resistant to both fire and water, and incredibly lightweight. If dissolved into a solution through a secret method, it can even repair damaged nerves, allowing necrotic tissue to regenerate…"
"It's said to be capable of treating paralysis and brain disorders."
"As for weaving it into cloth, a single leaf won't suffice—you'd need several Seven-Colored Hibiscus Brocade plants to meet the requirement. If it's for medicinal use…"
Chrysanthemum Douluo spoke with ease, rattling off a string of knowledge that even Chen Ming had never encountered.
No matter how much Chen Ming racked his brain, he could never have imagined that feeding this flower to an Ice Silk Worm would cause it to produce silk. The two seemed worlds apart—who would have thought they could interact in such a way?
Gently, Chrysanthemum Douluo stroked the petals as if caressing a beloved companion. The flower shimmered like fine silk, its seven colors refracting brilliantly in the light, and he clearly couldn't bear to put it down.
After a moment, he nodded at Chen Ming, a hint of appreciation appearing in his gaze.
"Young one, thank you. This is a thoughtful gift indeed." He gestured lightly. "Come, sit."
Chen Ming took his seat beside Dugu Bo, and the exchange formally began.
Although Chen Ming had presented him with such a treasure, Chrysanthemum Douluo did not simply accept it and move on. Once he had carefully stored the Seven-Colored Hibiscus Brocade, he began testing Chen Ming's knowledge of medicine.
After all, medicine was a vast and profound field. In the eyes of most, the older a physician, the greater their expertise. And in the eyes of some less sensible people, the more patients a doctor had treated—successfully or otherwise—the more skilled they must be.
Chen Ming, however, was only nine years old. It was only natural that Chrysanthemum Douluo harbored some lingering doubt about the depth of his knowledge.
Yet after dozens of questions, his expression gradually turned serious. His head began to nod unconsciously, and eventually, he even had to pause and think carefully before posing his next question.
Faced with these inquiries, Chen Ming rarely gave standard answers. More often than not, his responses surpassed them—more thorough, more refined, and more insightful.
After a long while, Chrysanthemum Douluo fell silent, letting out a sigh before raising his thumb in admiration.
"Impressive. A true young prodigy with boundless potential."
"In terms of knowledge alone, you're no worse than me, Old Poison, or Ye Renxin."
"Old Chrysanthemum, Chen Ming is a case of the pupil outshining the master. He's completely mastered my poison techniques and has already gone beyond me. If not for his Martial Soul being different from mine, the title of Poison Douluo would have changed hands long ago."
Before Dugu Bo could finish, Chrysanthemum Douluo raised a hand to cut him off, his face deliberately adopting a look of confusion.
"Poison Douluo? Who would that be? Dugu Bo, I seem to recall that among the current Titled Douluo, there's only one with the title 'Jade Phosphor.' I don't remember anyone titled 'Poison.' That must just be some kind of nickname, no?"
"You—you've gone too far!" Dugu Bo slammed his hand against the table, so furious that he nearly dragged Chrysanthemum Douluo outside for another round.
"Hmm. In the past, I wasn't quite sure—I thought you might have taken some crooked path to reach Titled Douluo, turning yourself into that sickly, half-dead state. You looked weak on the surface, but I assumed you knew what you were doing. After all, as the first poison-attributed Titled Douluo in history, you were bound to be… unconventional."
"When I saw you last time, I still hadn't figured it out. But after you left, it finally clicked—back then, you must have broken through by sheer luck, only to suffer a severe backlash the moment you reached Titled Douluo, nearly killing yourself. It's only now that you've managed to cure it."
"You know, that green hair and green eyes you used to have weren't signs of mastering poison at all—they were symptoms of your own techniques backfiring on you. Your current black hair and black eyes? That's what normal looks like."
"And you call yourself Poison Douluo? More like Useless Douluo," Chrysanthemum Douluo sneered.
"You—you've gone too far!" Dugu Bo raised his hand as if to slam the table again, only to hesitate midway, clearly wary of being dragged outside for another humiliating beating.
The Singular Velvet Sky Chrysanthemum might appear delicate, but each petal was as sharp as a blade. More importantly, it possessed extremely high resistance to toxins—practically invulnerable, embodying pure yang energy. Fighting him meant certain defeat, followed by yet another round of mockery.
"This boy is definitely not your disciple. Your ancestors must've had smoke rising from their graves for you to stumble upon such talent," Chrysanthemum Douluo continued, half-joking yet half-serious. "With gifts like his, there's no way you, Dugu Bo, could have taught him everything. First your poison arts, then Ye Renxin's medical knowledge… considering the timeline, I'd say it's more likely that he's the one who cured you."
His gaze lingered on Dugu Bo, making the latter feel a faint chill run down his spine.
"Seniors, let's calm down, calm down," Chen Ming interjected smoothly, stepping in to diffuse the tension. "Since everyone here today is an expert in medicine and poison, why don't we discuss something related to pharmacology instead?"
Without waiting, he continued.
"I'll start. Recently, while refining medicine, I had an idea—using primarily hundred-year medicinal herbs to create a powdered formula that can enhance cultivation. The cost would be low, specifically designed for lower-tier Spirit Masters, from Spirit Scholar to Spirit Master level…"
"These individuals are often the ones without any backing—limited talent, no family support, no mentors, no guidance, and unable to afford expensive medicinal resources. So I wanted to develop a formula that is cheap, simple, and effective for them."
"I'm using Ginseng and Tiger Bone as the primary ingredients, supplemented with ox bone, pig bone, polygonatum, wolfberry, Blue Silver Grass, and honey… first drying them… then distilling the bones for extraction… burning the Blue Silver Grass into ash before mixing it into the powder…"
"May I ask if the seniors have any good ideas for this formula?"
Chen Ming explained in great detail—how he formulated the mixture, the role each ingredient played, which acted as the sovereign herb and which as the supporting components, and the final effects the combination would achieve.
In truth, his formula was already complete and ready for use. Rather than genuinely seeking advice, he was simply providing an opportunity for the others to contribute and showcase their own insights.
Hearing both his thought process and his three key requirements—low cost, simplicity, and effectiveness—the three experts gradually grew engaged, each beginning to offer their own ideas.
Fulfilling any one of the requirements was easy. Meeting two simultaneously was difficult. Achieving all three at once, however, was a true challenge—even for them. And with peers of equal caliber present, it became a matter of who could produce the most optimal solution.
"This approach is quite good," Ye Renxin said thoughtfully. "Medicines tailored for low-level Spirit Scholars and Spirit Masters are usually controlled by large clans and sects. Not only are they expensive, but they're also closely guarded. If this formula succeeds, it will benefit a great many people."
"However, the medicinal properties are somewhat too intense. If a low-level Spirit Master fails to properly control the dispersal of Spirit Power after consumption, it could damage their meridians. I recommend adding sour jujube, and mixing in some flour and black sesame powder during refinement to act as stabilizers."
His perspective was clearly focused on safety.
"No, the cost is still too high," Chrysanthemum Douluo countered immediately. "A Spirit Master only earns about one gold soul coin a month, and Spirit Scholars often earn even less. If you ask me, the cost must be reduced further—replace tiger bone with ox bone as the main ingredient, and add gastrodia and mulberry…"
"The medicinal effect will drop by about thirty percent, but the cost can be cut in half."
Every word he spoke revolved around reducing expenses.
"Old Chrysanthemum, do you really think that kind of formula would work?" Dugu Bo snorted. "You've halved the cost, sure—but the side effects haven't decreased at all. I'd rather add rhubarb and lingzhi, adjust the sequence, and include some jujube powder."
"That way, each batch produces thirty percent more output. Overall, you end up with seventy percent potency, seventy percent cost, and seventy percent side effects. That's the true optimal balance."
Dugu Bo was clearly dissatisfied with Chrysanthemum Douluo's approach and voiced his own refinement.
"Oh? Then why not just take seventy percent of the original dosage?" Chrysanthemum Douluo shot back immediately. "Wouldn't that also give you seventy percent potency, cost, and side effects? What's the difference between your method and doing nothing—aside from making people eat more powder?"