Chapter 12: A Patient Who Does Not Pay Rent

  The next morning began the way Khun Ming preferred mornings to begin.

  Quietly.

  No thunder.

  No screaming lightning.

  No roaring tigers.

  Just wind moving through bamboo and the steady rhythm of the waterfall somewhere beyond the cliff edge. Khun Ming opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling beams for several seconds.

  Then memory returned.

  "…Right," he muttered slowly. "I suppose I should remind myself that yesterday I carried home a lightning-struck tiger and placed it in the middle of my workshop, which means today's morning routine is slightly different from what I originally planned".

  Tiger!

  He sat up and turned his head. The tiger was still there. Large and striped.

  Occupying an unreasonable amount of floor space in his workshop. The dog was already awake and sitting beside it like a guard who had accepted the position voluntarily.

  "You stayed up all night watching her, did you?" he asked calmly. "I appreciate that level of dedication, although I should mention that I never officially assigned you the role of overnight guardian for injured wildlife."

  The dog blinked slowly.

  "Yes, I suppose someone had to. I suppose someone needed to keep an eye on the situation, he continued thoughtfully. "Considering that there is a large tiger lying on my workshop floor, it is probably wise that at least one of us remained alert."

  Khun Ming stood, stretched his shoulders, and walked over to inspect the patient. The tiger's breathing had stabilized. Still heavy, but no longer ragged. The burn areas he had treated with aloe gel and marigold paste had begun to dry slightly. He crouched down and examined the wounds.

  "There does not appear to be any infection developing around the burns," he murmured while inspecting the wounds. "That is a very encouraging sign, because infections tend to complicate everything, and I would strongly prefer not to spend the week preparing herbal antibiotics for a tiger."

  He touched the fur near the shoulder gently. Still warm, but the heat had decreased.

  "Good. That is good," he said quietly. "The heat around the injured tissue has decreased since last night, which means the aloe treatment is doing its job properly."

  The tiger twitched faintly but did not wake. Khun Ming leaned back on his heels.

  "He is still unconscious," he said thoughtfully and still had no idea about whether the tiger is male or female. "Under normal circumstances that might be worrying, but in this particular situation it is actually quite convenient because an unconscious tiger is much easier to treat than a conscious tiger with opinions."

  The dog tilted its head.

  "Yes," he added calmly when the dog tilted its head. "I understand that might sound strange, but trust me, cooperative patients are always preferable."

  He stood and walked toward the courtyard.

  The marigolds near the stream glowed softly in the morning light.

  He stared at them for a moment.

  "Work should come first," he said to himself while looking at the marigolds. "The dye order still exists regardless of whether or not a lightning-struck tiger decided to move into my workshop last night."

  Then he glanced back at the cottage.

  "Medical supervision will have to be the second priority," he added. "Fortunately, you seem perfectly willing to remain here and watch the patient while I harvest the materials I need".

  The dog remained beside the tiger.

  Khun Ming picked up his harvesting basket and walked toward the flowers.

  The marigold patch had grown thick along the damp soil near the stream.

  Bright orange and yellow blossoms nodded gently in the breeze.

  Khun Ming crouched and began harvesting.

  "Tagetes erecta," he murmured out of habits while harvesting. "This species belongs to the Asteraceae family, and it is particularly useful for natural dyeing because it produces a strong yellow pigment when extracted correctly."

  He plucked only the fully open blooms.

  The petals fell into the basket in soft layers of orange and gold.

  "The primary pigment compound is lutein," he continued while placing petals into the basket. "Lutein produces a bright yellow tone when bound properly to fiber, although the stability depends heavily on temperature control during extraction."

  He separated petals as he worked.

  "There is also a secondary compound called quercetagetin," he added thoughtfully. "That flavonoid contributes to the richness of the yellow color, which is why marigold dye often produces warmer tones than many other plant dyes."

  The dog watched from the edge of the courtyard.

  "Yes, I understand that you probably did not come outside this morning in order to listen to a lecture about pigment chemistry," he said to the dog calmly. "However, if you are going to supervise the harvesting process, you may as well learn something useful."

  "Marigolds also have several medicinal uses," he continued conversationally. "The compounds in the petals have mild anti-inflammatory properties and are sometimes used in traditional remedies for skin irritation."

  "Eye health support."

  "And apparently," he added after glancing toward the cottage, "those same compounds are also quite useful when treating lightning burns on large tigers."

  The dog wagged its tail once.

  "Yes," he said when the dog wagged its tail. "This week has certainly been educational in ways that I did not anticipate."

  He harvested steadily.

  Petals accumulated.

  Soon the basket began to fill.

  He paused and weighed it with one hand.

  "This basket contains approximately one kilogram of petals," he said after weighing it. "Unfortunately, the dye order requires closer to eight kilograms if I want the pigment concentration to remain consistent."

  He looked toward the flower patch.

  "…Seven more."

  The dog blinked.

  "Yes," he sighed slightly. "Five bolts of cloth require a surprising amount of dye material, which means we are going to spend quite a bit of time harvesting flowers today."

  He continued harvesting.

  Inside the cottage, Hu Xinyan slowly regained consciousness.

  Pain greeted her first.

  A deep ache throughout her body.

  Residual lightning energy still flickered faintly through her meridians, remnants of the failed tribulation that had nearly killed her.

  Her mind struggled to assemble memory.

  Thunder. Lightning. The heavens.

  Then..... Darkness.

  She opened her eyes. Wooden ceiling. Not forest. Not battlefield. Wood.

  Her body refused to move. Her cultivation core felt… quiet.

  Strangely calm. She turned her head slightly.

  A golden dog sat beside her. Watching.

  Hu Xinyan froze.

  The dog's eyes held depth. Ancient depth. She stared.

  The dog blinked.

  Then it wagged its tail gently.

  Hu Xinyan's mind reeled.

  That was not an ordinary dog.

  But before she could process that thought, footsteps approached.

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  Khun Ming entered carrying a large basket of marigold petals.

  He stopped when he saw the tiger's eyes open.

  "Oh," he said mildly when he saw the tiger awake. "You regained consciousness earlier than I expected, which is generally a positive sign because it indicates that your nervous system is recovering from the lightning strike."

  Hu Xinyan stared at him.

  A mortal. Completely mortal. Holding flowers.

  Khun Ming walked over and crouched beside her.

  "Don't try to move too much right now," he said calmly while crouching beside her. "You were struck by lightning yesterday, and that kind of injury tends to leave the nerves and muscles in a very unstable condition."

  "You were struck by lightning."

  Hu Xinyan blinked.

  Lightning. That was… technically correct.

  Khun Ming inspected the burns again.

  "The tissue is still healing," he explained while adjusting the aloe layer. "I applied aloe vera gel to the burned areas because it helps reduce inflammation and protects the damaged skin while it regenerates..

  "This will help." Hu Xinyan watched him silently.

  Her spiritual perception probed the room.

  What she sensed nearly stopped her heart.

  The sword leaning against the wall.

  Sealed power. Immense. Ancient.

  The golden dog beside her. Even worse.

  Its aura was completely hidden, but the depth of its presence felt like an ocean concealed beneath calm water.

  And the man crouched beside her…

  Nothing. No cultivation. No spiritual fluctuation.

  Just a human. Khun Ming looked at her.

  "That is good," he said after checking her eyes. "Your eyes are clearer and brighter. Your gaze is much clearer now, which suggests that the lightning did not cause severe neurological damage."

  He reached over and replaced the damp cloth compress.

  "Lightning strikes usually cause intense nerve shock," he continued calmly while replacing the damp cloth compress. "Cooling the affected tissue helps reduce the secondary inflammation that follows the electrical trauma."

  "Cooling treatment first."

  Hu Xinyan remained completely still.

  The dog watched her.

  Khun Ming continued talking while adjusting the herbal paste.

  "I used aloe vera gel as the primary burn treatment," he explained. "The botanical name is Aloe vera, and the gel contains compounds that support skin regeneration and reduce swelling."

  He pointed at the marigold basket.

  "And marigold paste.... I also applied marigold paste around the surrounding tissue," he added while pointing to the basket. "The plant is called Tagetes erecta in botanical terminology, and it has mild anti-inflammatory properties that assist with healing."

  Hu Xinyan blinked slowly.

  This man…

  Was explaining plant medicine to a lightning-struck tiger.

  Khun Ming stood. "For now, you should avoid standing up," he said gently. "Your body is still recovering from a very serious electrical shock, and moving too quickly could make the internal damage worse."

  Hu Xinyan had not moved.

  He looked at the dog and said casually. "Make sure he doesn't walk around. Large injured animals tend to make very poor decisions when they wake up too quickly."

  The dog wagged its tail.

  Hu Xinyan stared.

  Khun Ming carried the basket to the dye area and began sorting petals.

  He spoke casually as he worked.

  "The textile merchant ordered five bolts of yellow cloth," he explained while sorting petals. "That means I need to dye approximately six kilograms of fiber, which in turn requires around eight kilograms of marigold petals for proper pigment extraction."

  "One hundred twenty liters dye bath."

  Hu Xinyan's mind struggled to keep up.

  She had faced heavenly lightning.

  Yet this man's greatest concern seemed to be flower inventory.

  Khun Ming glanced over his shoulder.

  "You were actually quite lucky," he said while glancing back at the tiger. "If the lightning had burned deeper into the muscle tissue, your recovery would likely have taken several weeks rather than just a few days."

  Hu Xinyan said nothing.

  Khun Ming nodded.

  "For now, you should simply rest and allow the treatment to work," he concluded calmly. "Your body appears to be stabilizing, which means the herbs and cooling treatment are doing exactly what they are supposed to do."

  Then he returned to separating petals.

  Inside the sword, the Nine-Tailed Fox chuckled softly.

  "She understands nothing."

  The Azure Dragon gave a slow nod.

  "Correct."

  The Phoenix's flame flickered with amusement.

  Outside, wind moved gently across the cliff.

  And inside Atelier Vimutti, a natural dyer calmly prepared the next batch of yellow cloth while a failed tribulation survivor lay quietly on the workshop floor, trying to understand why the most terrifying beings she had ever sensed were behaving like ordinary household objects around a man who only cared about flowers.

  _________________________________________________________________

  Khun Ming worked steadily at the sorting table, spreading the marigold petals into thin layers so the moisture could evaporate evenly before they entered the dye bath. Fresh petals behaved differently than dried ones; too much moisture diluted the pigment extraction, while overly dried petals lost some of their brightness. He adjusted the baskets carefully, ensuring airflow moved through them rather than around them.

  Behind him, Hu Xinyan remained perfectly still.

  Her body still refused to obey her fully. Lightning tribulation injuries did not vanish overnight, even for a cultivator of her former strength. Yet the strange calm flowing through her meridians confused her more than the pain itself. Instead of chaotic energy tearing through her channels, there was a slow stabilizing sensation...gentle, almost restorative.

  Her gaze drifted toward the shelves near the dye vats.

  Bundles of plants. Roots. Bark. Dried flowers. She recognized some of them. Others she did not.

  Khun Ming hummed quietly while he worked.

  It was not a melody exactly...more like a habit of breath turning into sound while his hands remained busy separating petals.

  "Those petals are layered too thickly," he muttered to himself while adjusting one pile. "If I leave them like that the moisture will stay trapped in the middle, and that will weaken the pigment extraction when they go into the dye bath."

  He spread the petals thinner.

  "The extraction works better when the surface area increases," he continued calmly. "If the petals are spread properly, the air moves through them and the water content stabilizes before they reach the pot."

  Hu Xinyan watched.

  This man… was treating plant dye preparation with the seriousness of a sect master refining spiritual pills.

  Her eyes drifted toward the sword again.

  The presence inside that blade was unmistakable.

  Even in her weakened state she could feel it.

  Ancient. Boundless. Impossible.

  Yet the weapon leaned casually against the wall beside a bundle of drying cloth.

  Ignored.

  The golden dog beside her shifted slightly and stretched.

  Hu Xinyan froze again.

  The creature's movement felt deceptively simple, yet every instinct she possessed screamed that the being beside her could flatten mountains if it wished.

  Instead it yawned.

  Khun Ming looked over briefly.

  "Did he move at all while I was working?" he asked the dog. "If the tiger has started moving around already, that would mean the nerves recovered faster than I expected."

  The dog blinked.

  "Good," Khun Ming said with a small nod. "It is much easier to treat a patient who stays still rather than one who suddenly decides to test its legs while the injuries are still fresh."

  Hu Xinyan's ears twitched slightly.

  He had not even checked directly.

  He trusted the dog's judgment completely.

  Khun Ming carried one of the sorted trays of petals toward the large iron pot near the stove.

  He measured water into the vessel slowly.

  "This pot needs roughly one hundred twenty liters of water if the dye bath is going to handle the full batch of fiber," he said thoughtfully. "If the volume is too low, the pigment concentration becomes uneven and the cloth absorbs color inconsistently.

  He glanced at the marigold baskets.

  "The petal ratio must remain consistent with the fiber weight," he added while examining the piles. "If the ratio changes even slightly, the shade will shift from one bolt to the next, and then the merchant will start asking questions about why the colors do not match."

  He paused and scratched the side of his head thoughtfully.

  "Otherwise shade variation occurs and shade variation is one of the most common mistakes in natural dye work," he continued. "People assume the plant provides the color automatically, but in reality the ratio between fiber, pigment, and water must stay balanced or the entire batch becomes unreliable."

  Hu Xinyan listened.

  The words themselves were simple.

  Yet something about the way he spoke felt… deliberate.

  Not careless. Not ignorant. Just focused.

  Khun Ming lit the stove and adjusted the wood beneath the iron pot until the flame settled into a steady burn.

  "The heat must remain controlled while the extraction begins," he said quietly. "If the temperature climbs too quickly and the bath starts boiling, the delicate compounds inside the petals will break down and the yellow will lose its brightness."

  "This stage requires steady heat rather than aggressive heat. Means not boiling." he explained to himself. "A gentle temperature allows the pigment to release slowly and evenly into the bath."

  Steam began rising slowly from the water.

  Outside, wind moved gently through the bamboo grove surrounding the cottage.

  Hu Xinyan felt it through the open doorway.

  The air carried a faint scent of flowers and wet soil.

  She had expected a battlefield after failing a tribulation.

  Instead she had awakened inside what appeared to be a rural dye workshop.

  Her mind struggled to process the absurdity.

  Khun Ming returned to the baskets and continued separating petals.

  He spoke casually again.

  "The next stage after extraction will be the mordant process," he said casually. "Without a proper mordant, the pigment attaches to the fiber only weakly and the color fades after a few washes."

  The dog looked up.

  "Yes," Khun Ming said while nodding slightly. "For this batch the mordant will be alum, which is a very reliable mineral for fixing yellow pigments onto plant fibers."

  "Alum."

  Hu Xinyan's ears twitched again.

  Alum.

  A simple mineral mordant.

  Used in textile dyeing.

  The man had not mentioned spiritual stones or alchemical catalysts.

  Just… alum.

  Khun Ming glanced toward the tiger.

  "You probably have absolutely no interest in mordants," he said conversationally, "but I find that explaining the process out loud helps me think more clearly about the steps."

  Hu Xinyan stared at him.

  He continued sorting petals.

  "But mordants matter more than most people realize," he continued while sorting the petals. "Without them the pigment sits on the surface of the cloth instead of bonding with the fiber structure.."

  He lifted a handful of petals and dropped them gently into the iron pot.

  Golden fragments floated across the warming water.

  "Without a mordant," he explained calmly, "the color will look beautiful for a short time and then disappear the first time the cloth is washed properly."

  Hu Xinyan blinked slowly.

  Her spiritual senses expanded cautiously through the room.

  The aura of the sword.

  The quiet power of the dog.

  The unnatural stillness of the entire cottage.

  And the human standing calmly beside a dye vat.

  Nothing made sense.

  Khun Ming stirred the pot slowly with a wooden paddle.

  The petals began releasing faint color into the water.

  Yellow threads of pigment drifted outward like sunlight dissolving into the bath.

  He nodded approvingly.

  "That is a good sign," he added quietly. "If the color spreads gradually like this, it usually means the final dye bath will produce an even tone across the fiber."

  Hu Xinyan watched silently.

  For the first time since waking, she realized something unusual.

  The chaotic lightning residue inside her meridians was… fading.

  Not quickly.

  But steadily.

  As if the environment itself encouraged balance.

  Her gaze shifted slowly toward the hanging cloth drying near the doorway.

  Soft colors.

  Muted shades.

  Natural pigments.

  Something about them felt… stabilizing.

  Khun Ming stirred the dye bath again.

  The extraction is beginning nicely," he murmured. "You can already see the pigment threads spreading through the water, which means the lutein compounds are dissolving exactly the way they should."

  "Temperature must remain controlled," he murmured.

  Hu Xinyan closed her eyes briefly.

  This place.

  This cottage.

  This man.

  Everything about it defied the logic of the cultivation world she knew.

  He stirred again.

  "The temperature must remain stable throughout the extraction process," he said thoughtfully. "If the heat fluctuates too much, the pigment will release unevenly and the final cloth will show subtle streaking."

  He glanced over toward the tiger again.

  "He seems to be resting comfortably," he said calmly, still unaware of her true identity. "If the breathing remains stable and the burns do not worsen, then the recovery should continue without major complications."

  The dog wagged its tail once.

  "That is reassuring," Khun Ming replied with a small nod. "Please continue keeping an eye on him while I finish preparing this dye bath, because the merchant is expecting five bolts of cloth and I would prefer not to disappoint him."

  Then he returned his full attention to the marigold dye bath.

  Because five bolts of yellow cloth still needed to be finished before the merchant's deadline.

  And from Khun Ming's perspective, meeting a dye order was far more urgent than solving the mystery of why a lightning-struck tiger had decided to wake up inside his workshop.

  Chapter 12 complete.