Sick Bones Leave the Palace

Ying Zheng's departure was like a stone dropped into a deep pool, the ripples revealing a more turbulent undercurrent. The words, "Some doors, once opened, cannot be closed," were both a warning and a confirmation—this future Ancestor Dragon now completely saw him as one of his own, someone who held secrets. This realization brought not protection, but rather a more dangerous, more naked scrutiny and a calculation of his usefulness.

A faint coolness lingered on the black wooden piece in his palm, suppressing the burning pain of the rune's backlash in his chest. Cheng Xi closed his eyes, sorting through his tangled thoughts amidst the strong medicinal scent. Had Ying Zheng recognized the Witch Script on the wooden piece? Or had he merely sensed its extraordinary nature? Were Lu Buwei's people already after this item? That strange Peach Blossom Petal... the Witch Script wooden piece in Ying Xi's box... and the fleeting red shadow outside his window last night... the fragments were chaotic, yet they all pointed vaguely in the same direction—

Leave Xianyang Palace!

This place had become the eye of the storm! King Zhuangxiang's peculiar "gaze," Lu Buwei's killing intent, Ying Zheng's scrutiny, and the owner of the "Peach Blossom Petal" lurking in the shadows with unfathomable methods... He was walking a tightrope over a bottomless abyss, one wrong step meaning utter destruction! Only by escaping this cage could he find a moment to breathe, a chance to restore his system's energy and explore the path to the extraordinary!

"Illness..." he moved his lips silently in the darkness. Only "illness," and an "incurable disease" that even the Imperial Physician couldn't cure and that was difficult to manage within the deep palace, could serve as his most plausible shield for temporarily leaving this vortex of power!

In the following days, Cheng Xi became a complete "medicine jar." He never missed a bowl of the Imperial Physician's calming soup, yet his complexion grew paler with each passing day. He began to unconsciously clutch his chest and frown in front of his attendants, his breathing growing short. Once, even in front of Zhao Gao, he would suddenly erupt into a violent coughing fit, crimson blood seeping between his fingers (actually a cleverly prepared chicken blood pouch).

"Lord Chang'an's pulse..." After another examination, the old Imperial Physician, his temples streaked with white hair, furrowed his brow. Facing the anxious King Zhuangxiang, the somber Ying Zheng, and Lu Buwei, he carefully chose his words, "Evil is trapped within, depleting the heart meridian... beyond the reach of ordinary medicine. It is feared he requires... quiet recuperation in a place of natural beauty and spiritual energy, where he might be nourished by the pure qi of heaven and earth..."

"A place of natural beauty?" Lu Buwei's gentle voice chimed in, laced with perfectly calibrated concern. "Within Hangu, only Mount Li and Mount Zhongnan are suitable. However, the journey is arduous, and if it further troubles his spirit..." His words trailed off, but his meaning was clear.

"Uncle, your words are mistaken." Ying Zheng's voice remained steady, yet carried an undeniable force. "Since the Imperial Physician suggests quiet recuperation in a place of spiritual energy, that is where his vitality lies. Lord Chang'an is your beloved son, my brother. How can we abandon his chance at recovery due to the hardships of travel?" He turned to King Zhuangxiang, cupping his hands. "Your son requests permission to personally select guards and escort your royal brother to Mount Zhongnan to seek out renowned physicians and hermits for quiet recuperation!"

King Zhuangxiang looked at his young son on the couch, gasping for breath with a pale face. Pain and exhaustion mingled in his eyes, and he finally waved his hand weakly. "Granted... Zheng'er, you must ensure your royal brother's safety..."

Lu Buwei lowered his gaze, concealing the fleeting cold glint in his eyes. Was Ying Zheng's action genuine concern for his brother, or a desire to firmly control this "variable" in his own hands?

The night before leaving the palace. Cheng Xi dismissed his attendants and sat alone under the lamp. The room was filled with the scent of medicine, his face jaundiced, his breath weak. Only his eyes shone astonishingly in the dim candlelight. He opened his palm; the life-saving black wooden piece lay there quietly. In his other hand, he held a fine brush dipped in cinnabar.

During the day, he had used the excuse of "being bored while ill and wanting to paint some landscapes to calm my mind" to obtain the special vermilion cinnabar used for drawing talismans from the Imperial Physician. Now, he cleared his mind of all distractions, focusing all his attention on the tip of the brush, following the most basic, most stable, and most likely to succeed Spirit Gathering Rune that the system had repeatedly deduced and corrected in his mind!

The brush touched the plain silk.

The vermilion lines meandered, no longer pursuing profundity or complexity, only seeking "stability"! Each stroke condensed his entire mental will, drawing the faint cool energy from the wooden piece in his chest, carefully injecting it into the brush tip!

Sweat soaked his temples and slid down his pale cheeks. His unhealed chest wound throbbed intermittently, the price of forcibly activating his weak spiritual energy. The cinnabar at the tip of the brush flowed with a red light, like a living thing, extending arduously on the silk.

The final stroke, complete!

Hum...

The rune on the silk suddenly lit up with a faint, pale red glow that only Cheng Xi could perceive! The light lasted for three breaths before slowly receding and becoming silent. The rune was formed, the cinnabar lines smoothly connected, and it subtly resonated with the sparse spiritual energy around it!

Success! Although the effect might be minuscule, it meant he had truly drawn his first talisman with practical efficacy!

He carefully folded this "Spirit Gathering Body Nourishing Talisman" and hid it close to his body. The cool energy from the wooden piece and the faint spiritual power of the rune mingled, and the burning pain in his chest actually eased slightly.

"Lord Chang'an, it is time to depart." Zhao Gao's voice sounded outside the hall, breaking the silence of the night.

Cheng Xi took a deep breath, suppressed all his emotions, and put on his frail, sickly appearance. Supported by attendants, he walked out of the hall, gasping for breath with each step.

Outside the palace gate, carriages and horses stood in formation. Ying Zheng, clad in dark, fitted clothing, stood with his hand on his sword, his posture as upright as a pine tree, his gaze calmly fixed on him. Behind him were dozens of skilled warriors, all dressed in black, their auras subdued, clearly elite Qin King's Guards. Further away, a luxurious carriage pulled by four pure black steeds waited quietly.

The night wind carried a chill, whipping at Cheng Xi's thin robes. He looked up at the majestic silhouette of Xianyang Palace, which loomed like a slumbering behemoth in the night. Finally... he was about to temporarily leave this gilded cage.

Just as he was being helped onto the carriage steps—

[Highest Level Alert! High-dimensional order lock detected! Target: Host! Direction: Due East! Distance: Rapid approach!... Attribute judgment: Human Cultivation inheritance mark!... Zzz... Warning! Aggressive scan encountered!...]

In his mind, the long-silent system erupted with an unprecedented shriek! The cold mechanical voice distorted and warped due to the violent energy fluctuations!

Cheng Xi's entire body trembled violently, and he abruptly looked up at the eastern sky!

In the deepest darkness before dawn, towards the majestic East Gate of Xianyang City—Zhidiao Pavilion—a faint golden stream of light, invisible to the naked eye but triggering the system's frantic warnings, tore through the night like an arrow of judgment! Within that light resided a majestic, vast, yet cold and emotionless will of order, carrying scrutiny, a lock, and even... a subtle hint of erasure!

The target was him!

"Royal Brother?" Ying Zheng keenly sensed his sudden stiffness and the change in his expression, his sword-like eyebrows furrowing.

Cheng Xi forcibly suppressed the coppery taste in his throat and the trembling deep within his soul. He practically lunged into the carriage, using his last ounce of strength to shout, his voice distorted and altered by extreme terror:

"Go quickly!"

The moment the carriage curtain fell, that faint golden, terrifying stream of order had reached overhead!