The feast was lavish, and the White Snake ate her fill.
Bai Yujun shamelessly mooched a meal, sweeping clean two tables of food like a gale scattering clouds, leaving not a drop behind. Full and satisfied, she strolled into the city with a toothpick in her mouth to watch a play at the pleasure house, and casually taught some spoiled young dandy a lesson.
Night was one of the few times available for cultivation. Ever since she had nearly been killed, Bai Yujun had practiced with exceptional diligence.
The night passed without incident.
Early morning.
After washing up and eating, she ambled over to the Barracks.
When there was no urgent treatment to perform, Bai Yujun usually stayed in the Barracks to check on the wounded soldiers she had treated. She diligently inspected them to prevent their wounds from festering and becoming infected. In truth, soldiers died every day from infected wounds. There was not much she could do, only give the wounded a little more hope where she could.
The Barracks received little attention from officials, generals, or the Aristocratic Clans. To them, only healthy soldiers were useful; injured men were nothing but useless burdens wasting silver and grain.
This Barracks had only been established because Pure Yang cared about its reputation. The treatment conditions were average, and there were only a handful of physicians.
The camp was crude—a stretch of tents counted as the Barracks. Only because Bai Yujun had urged and demanded it had the place avoided becoming a mire of sewage, and plant ash had been scattered everywhere.
She first checked on the severely wounded. The young man whose abdomen had been cleaned yesterday was still unconscious. His elderly father, who was also a soldier, sat beside the sickbed with bloodshot eyes, as if he had