When Lu Chen walked through the city gates, the blood from his left ribs had already soaked through half his clothes.
Silvery-white patterns sealed the surface of the wound, but blood was still seeping from within. With every step, he could feel it surging out through the gaps between his ribs.
Zhou Tieshan shut the gate, then turned and saw the blood on his clothes. His expression changed. "Commander Lu—"
"I'm fine." Lu Chen waved him off and headed for the tent. His steps were steady, but Yun Qingyue followed behind him, her eyes fixed on his back—the muscles on either side of his spine were trembling. Not from cold, but from pain.
Once inside the tent, Yun Qingyue set the bowl of medicine on the table and turned to fetch the medicine chest.
Lu Chen sat in a chair, lowering his head to look at the patterns on his right wrist.
The silvery-white glow shone steadily now, no longer flickering on and off as before. The two bones in his robes were scorching hot; he could feel it even through the fabric.
"Take off your clothes." Yun Qingyue crouched down, silver scissors in hand.
Lu Chen undid his collar.
Below his left ribs were four holes as thick as fingers. Their edges had already been sealed by silvery-white patterns, but the muscles deep within the wounds were still writhing, as though something were burrowing inside.
Yun Qingyue inserted silver tweezers into one wound and pulled out a black fiber.
The fiber was alive. It twisted at the tips of the tweezers, letting out a faint hiss. She tossed it into the bowl and sprinkled it with medicinal powder. After twitching a few times, it dissolved into a puddle of black water.
"There's more." She pulled out another, then another.