"Wow! How many recipes there are with garlic for treating the lungs and bronchi" flashed through Dar's head.

The system maliciously asked "how do you know" ?!

"And my cousin, I was fed up with all the baldness telling me how he lived in the desert and narrowed down folk medicine. He says he donated good money on this!" answered Dara.

"Well, well ... let's work, the sun is still high," the system began to ulcerate.

Dara, did not waste time in vain. He just started picking garlic. The bigger, the better. But, from the garlic, his eyes were watery, his hands became slippery. So he settled on that.

"The recipes are simple - you need to grind the garlic on a stone mortar. Mix it with melted, fatty fat - a snow goat or a ram, too. It will work off the mixture with the feet of the patient. And put on warm wool socks. This warming cures cough and runny nose!" pretty centralized Dara. This is what s.h.i.+r Ali often told him.

"Yes, and who is the s.a.d.i.s.t here? Can you imagine what smell this mixture will have? And the spiky, woolen socks will bring a person to agony, it's just torture!" growled the system.

"Are you people after that?" it was a rhetorical question that did not require an answer.

"And what you want is the desert, there are no doctors of the 21st century!" countered Dara.

"Please, have a second recipe - chop the garlic finely, squeeze the juice out of it. Rub them on the palms and feet. Several times a day. Lie down at home. It helps to cough!"

"It helps, apparently, by dispersing blood, unless of course there is an allergy," Dara said thoughtfully.

The system was silent. Prescriptions were from a century18, when there were no doctors in the desert. And now there's not always a connection, you won't call a doctor until he arrives by helicopter.

However, Dara, found another product, all honestly.

The hill turned out to be magical!

Dara washed his hands in a small source of water. He washed his face. He scooped up water with his palms, drank it! So tasty. But after a moment, Dara was already spitting out of the water, looking for lemon water in a backpack to process his mouth and rinse his larynx.

This happens with the city, they are touched by natural beauties, forgetting that there are almost no wild places, especially if the country is at the crossroads of the Silk Road.

Reality is prosaic.

Raising his eyes, Dara, saw a horse that relieved just above the slope. He could console himself only by the fact that perhaps the horse was not contagious!

Spitting himself from the sour lemon juice, Dara mentally scolded himself that he had lost his vigilance.

Walking along wet mosses, his galoshes slipped and he fell with the whole weight of his body into a small stream. The patient was gifted with a knee, he was again pierced by electricity, for a moment he turned off. Fainted, from pain, darkened in eyes.

But what was strange to him was that he saw a man who fell next to him, while he himself stood on his feet.

A moment pa.s.sed and Dara saw that the man lying was him. His soul for a moment, separated from his physical body. The astral spirit looked from the side. It was a cultivator ability. About which everyone has already forgotten. But Dara did not attach much importance to this.

He could not get to his feet, he was shaky, his legs and hands were trembling, he was thirsty. I had to stay sitting on the moss. My head was spinning. It seems that he did not hit a stone. But there was a weakness.

Dara did not know that these were signs of heat stroke and dehydration. Too much, the fat man was in nature and the sun!