The Nalan Mansion, inside a bedroom, reeked of medicine.
The strong scent of hundreds of rare medicinal ingredients had failed to bring even a trace of vitality. Instead, it mingled with a strange, scorched smell, forming a heavy aura of death that left everyone struggling to breathe.
On the Cold Jade Bed, a gaunt figure twitched faintly.
Nalan Jie.
The Lionheart Marshal, who had once shaken the empire with his might alone, now lay with his eyes shut. Beneath his shriveled skin, sinister black lines writhed slowly like living things. Each movement stole away a sliver of his feeble life force, bringing with it a pain that pierced to the bone.
"Master, the Yan Mansion... over at the Yan Mansion..."
A family steward knelt beside the bed. His voice trembled with excitement and fear as he reported, in exhaustive detail, the unbelievable news he had just heard at the marketplace.
Nalan Yanran stood nearby, gently wiping the cold sweat on her grandfather's brow with a damp cloth.
Her heart had already sunk to the bottom.
"...That High-Grade Beast Fire can let a Second-Rank Alchemist refine high-grade third-rank pills! And that Fire Control Talisman is said to multiply the precision of spiritual energy control several times over! All the alchemists in the Imperial Capital have gone mad. The Yan Mansion, which was deserted yesterday, nearly had its gates crushed by the crowds today!"
The steward's voice brimmed with disbelief.
As Nalan Yanran listened, a ripple stirred in her beautiful eyes.
She remembered that mysterious figure in a bamboo hat, and the terrifying ability to see through everything with such effortless ease.
It was him...
It had to be him!
The thought surfaced beyond her control.
Just then—
"Cough... cough, cough..."
A fit of violent coughing interrupted the steward's report.
On the