"Ow—it's hot! Fire! I'm on fire!"
The wail from the depths of the underground prison pierced through the already suffocating silence.
Zhao Heng, who had just set foot on the stone steps, yanked his foot back.
He flicked his thumb, and the long saber at his waist slid half an inch out of its scabbard.
Without a moment's hesitation, he turned and rushed back at a full sprint.
Lao Sun's heart also lurched heavily. He clutched his medicine box and hurried after him on old legs.
Poison relapse?!
It had only been the span of a single incense stick since the dose was applied! Could the potency of this Corpse Salve really be so savage?
The two men reached the eighth iron cage.
The tall, skinny shyster who had been shouting the loudest earlier was now curled up on a pile of straw in the corner.
Both hands clamped tightly over his left arm, his body rolled back and forth in a tight ball, and he let out a constant stream of screams.
"Open the door!" Zhao Heng barked.
The jailer fumbled with the copper lock and swung it open.
Lao Sun lifted the hem of his robe, stepped inside, grabbed the shyster's right wrist, and pressed his fingers to the inch, bar, and cubit pulse points.
The pulse was rapid—that was from fright—but there was not the slightest sign of weak or scattered energy.
Lao Sun frowned, released the pulse point, and pinched the shyster's cheeks to force his mouth open.
The tongue coating was slightly yellow, saliva still present, no obstruction in the throat.
Lao Sun then pulled open the shyster's collar and pressed his palm across the chest and abdomen, probing in a steady glide.
The muscles were firm, with no sign of abdominal bloating, let alone ulceration or pus.
Lao Sun straightened up and pointed to an empty patch a few steps away: "Get up. Walk two steps."
The shyster froze for a moment, let go of his left arm, slowly scrambled to his feet, and shuffled forward two steps with the shackles dragging. His legs were steady—no sign of poison weakening his limbs.
Lao Sun stared at the half-inch gash on the man's forearm. The knife wound was slightly red and swollen, the parted flesh seeping blood.
This was an ordinary knife wound.
"What exactly is wrong with you?" Lao Sun's face darkened.
The shyster shrank his neck, his features scrunching together: "Sir, it just hurts! You cut my flesh open with a knife and rubbed that unknown poisonous liquid inside. The wound burns and stings—I can't bear it!"
Lao Sun was so furious his beard trembled. He kicked the shyster square in the thigh.
"Damn you! You're here playing dead!" Lao Sun cursed loudly, all the dignity of a medical officer thrown straight out the window.
Two jailers rushed in, drew out horsewhips, and cracked them.
Crack! Crack!
Two sharp lashes struck the shyster's back, splitting the skin open.
The shyster hugged his head and shrank back into the corner, still muttering in defiance: "It was you who made the cut in the first place—a knife wound is supposed to hurt. What's wrong with letting out a cry or two…"
Lao Sun picked up his medicine box and turned to leave.
"Then let that grandson of yours hurt to death."
When he reached the prison door, Lao Sun stopped.
He turned around and swept his gaze over the row of jailers standing guard outside.
"Bring me paper and a brush," Lao Sun ordered.
He looked at the warden on duty and laid down the rule: "From this moment on, check all fifty of these men once every half-hour. Whether these prisoners cry out in pain, itch, run a fever, or have a fast or slow pulse, you write it all down in the register, stroke by stroke."
Lao Sun's tone was severe in the extreme: "Even if one of them lets out an extra fart, you record that too!"
The warden's face showed hesitation: "Sir, fifty men in the underground prison, checked every half-hour—my brothers won't get any rest at all."
"Troubled by the bother?" Lao Sun gave a cold snort. "If you're troubled, go tell Marshal Tie. If you miss the timing of a single prisoner's poison relapse, or someone deliberately conceals information and ruins the Imperial Envoy's variolation plan—"
Lao Sun pointed at the ceiling: "All of your heads are coming off."
The warden's face tightened. He immediately clasped his fists and bowed his head: "Your subordinate obeys."
...
The Grand Dry Court, Hall of Imperial Audience.
The cold autumn wind was blocked outside by the heavy palace doors. Inside, the under-floor heating warmed the hall, yet the atmosphere was stifling beyond measure.
The old emperor sat on the dragon throne, gripping an imperial memorial delivered by eight-hundred-li relay, its yellow cover crushed in his fist.
He raised his hand and slammed the memorial down hard on the imperial desk.
"A bunch of idiots!" The old emperor's voice echoed through the hall.
Civil and military officials stood in rows on both sides, all heads bowed. No one dared provoke his wrath at this moment.
"Urgent dispatch from Zhenbei Pass! The Helan people smeared corpses with lethal poison and hurled them into the city with trebuchets! Xu Qinghuan says in the report that the toxic water rots flesh on contact, with no cure." The old emperor braced himself against the desk, leaning forward. "This Zhenbei Pass is about to become a city of the dead! You people who daily call yourselves the pillars of the state—why are you all struck dumb today?"
The old emperor's gaze landed on the Director of the Imperial Medical Academy. "Imperial Medical Academy! You study ancient formulas day and night. For the poison of this Corpse Salve, give Us a remedy!"
The Director's legs gave way, and he collapsed to his knees.
"Your Majesty, please calm your wrath. Your servants consulted the medical archives—this deadly venom, fused from the death-essence of countless generations, is not recorded in any ancient text." The Director stammered. "Your servant suggests first dispatching medical officers to Zhenbei Pass to examine the toxin. Then use ginseng, astragalus, and other warming tonics to strengthen the root and gradually regulate the body…"
"Nonsense!" The old emperor grabbed a Duan inkstone from the imperial desk and hurled it directly.
The inkstone landed at the Director's feet, shattered into pieces, and splattered ink all over him.
The Director immediately knelt and begged forgiveness.
"In a single day, a man's guts rot through, and you want tens of thousands of troops to queue up for your warming tonics?" The old emperor was beside himself with rage. "By the time you finish regulating them, the Helan scimitars will already be at Our throat!"
The Director lay prostrate on the ground, trembling all over, not daring to say another word.
The old emperor shifted his gaze and fixed it on the Minister of War: "Ministry of War, what wisdom do you have?"
The Minister of War stepped forward from his position, his expression grave.
"Your Majesty, this poison does not discriminate. If we transfer troops from the capital garrison to reinforce Zhenbei Pass, and they bring the disease back to the capital's vicinity, the very foundation of Great Qian will be destroyed."
The Minister of War put forth an exceedingly conservative proposal.
"Your servant believes Zhenbei Pass has become a death ground. Better to have Commander Tie abandon the pass and withdraw the remnants of his forces to Baoding. Seal Zhenbei Pass completely, burn it to the ground, and cut off the plague's route south."
"Withdraw?" The old emperor laughed in fury, rising abruptly.
"Once Zhenbei Pass falls, the northern gate is wide open. The Helan cavalry can reach the capital's walls in three days! You want Us to hand over this great land to those barbarians?"
Deadlock once more within the hall.
To save Zhenbei Pass meant money, grain, and bearing the enormous risk of an epidemic spreading. If anything went wrong, whoever took the lead would have their entire family executed.
The old emperor took a deep breath, his gaze sharp as a blade, sweeping toward Minister of Revenue Xu Youde, who stood in the front row: "Ministry of Revenue! When can Xu Qinghuan's required quicklime, strong vinegar, and medicinal herbs be allocated?"
Instantly, the eyes of the entire court converged on Xu Youde.
Everyone expected the old minister to moan and groan about an empty treasury as he always did.
Instead, Xu Youde stepped forward calmly and knelt.
On his shrewd, calculating face there was not a trace of panic—only a chilling ruthlessness that made men's blood run cold.
"Your Majesty, though the national treasury holds no surplus grain, the private storehouses of the Jiangnan medicine merchants are piled high with herbs already turning moldy." Xu Youde's voice rang out strong and resolute.
The old emperor narrowed his eyes. "Oh? You mean to say…?"
Xu Youde raised his head, gazing directly at the emperor: "Your Majesty, I request the Imperial Sword! I will immediately dispatch crack troops from the Ministry of Revenue to the Jiangnan region. Anyone hoarding goods or inflating medicine prices during the plague shall be executed without trial by the Three High Courts—their entire families wiped out, and all medicines confiscated for public use!"
Xu Youde's words struck like iron: "In turbulent times, severe laws are needed. I am willing to be that blade—to fill the medicine furnaces of Zhenbei Pass with the blood of these profiteers!"
At these words, the entire court gasped in shock.
This old fox Xu, just to protect his daughter at Zhenbei Pass, was willing to uproot the very foundations of the wealthy merchants of Jiangnan!
The aging emperor fixed his gaze on Xu Youde, and a faint smile finally crept across his stern face.
This suited my wishes perfectly! And it's the south again.
In that stifling silence, Grand Secretary Xu Jie stepped forward from the ranks.
He walked to the center of the hall, standing shoulder to shoulder with Xu Youde.
"Your Majesty." Xu Jie raised his head, his voice calm yet carrying an unyielding resolve. "Since Minister Xu dares to play the villain who offends every wealthy merchant in the realm, I shall take on the role of the Chief Grand Secretary who bears the responsibility."
Xu Jie spoke measuredly, but his voice had always been the soothing balm for the Daqian bureaucracy.
"If the other ministers fear blame, I will bear it; if the other offices fear overstepping their bounds, I ask Your Majesty to grant an exception." Xu Jie declared, each word crashing like a stone against the golden bricks of the hall.
He wasted no time on excuses or deflection, but directly followed the edge of Xu Youde's blade and laid out a comprehensive strategy.
"I request Your Majesty to decree that the Ministry of War immediately dispatch three thousand elite cavalry from the capital garrison, escorting all antipyretic and detoxifying medicines from the Imperial Medical Institute, riding day and night to a point fifty li outside Zhenbei Pass. There, they shall set up a checkpoint without entering the city—only transferring supplies. This is the first step: dispatching grain and medicine."
Xu Jie continued: "The Ministry of Revenue, carrying the Imperial Sword under decree, shall go to Jiangnan and confiscate the properties. Along the route, any refugees moving north or south shall be detained on the spot, cutting off the movement of people. This is the second step: severing the path of contagion."
"Finally, issue imperial proclamations far and wide, summoning renowned physicians from across the realm, offering rewards for folk remedies capable of countering this poison. This is the last step: gathering the wisdom of all medical treatments."
Having laid out these three measures, Xu Jie prostrated himself and knocked his head heavily against the floor.
"I cannot make hollow promises about whether the border can be saved; but I stake my head on ensuring the capital remains uncontaminated."
"If these three policies fail, endangering the Daqian Empire, I, Xu Jie, shall willingly suffer the punishment of a thousand cuts, without a single complaint!"
The great hall fell utterly silent.
The assembled ministers stared in shock at the two men.
No one had expected the Minister of Revenue and the Grand Secretary to willingly shoulder this enormous burden of blame.
The aging emperor sat upon his dragon throne, looking down at Xu Jie and Xu Youde kneeling before him.
He studied them for a long moment, then suddenly slammed his hand on the imperial desk and burst into laughter.
"Excellent! Excellent—'I will bear the responsibility'! The Great Qian has you two—the sky will not fall!"
The emperor dipped his brush in cinnabar ink and, with fierce strokes, wrote "Approved" on the urgent memorial that had arrived by eight-hundred-li express messenger.
"The Three Offices shall work jointly. Xu Jie takes overall command; Xu Youde, you have free rein to seize—anyone who dares to obstruct this at this moment, I will wipe out their nine generations!" The emperor hurled the memorial toward Eunuch Li nearby, and murderous intent filled the entire hall.
