Zhao Residence's rear courtyard.
A figure vaulted over the wall and landed lightly—it was Wei Luo.
The area around Zhao Residence was also thick with watchful eyes. Success depended on secrecy, so Wei Luo chose not to take the beaten path.
Within the gardens of Zhao Residence stood a waterside viewing platform.
At that moment, Shen Wu lounged on a bamboo recliner, looking utterly at ease.
Zhao Xiu kept him company nearby. In barely more than ten days, he had wasted away until he was nearly unrecognizable. A black haze hung over his face—clearly, the Ten Strings poison was spreading.
There was fine wine and fruit on the table, while a pretty young woman played the zither nearby. Anyone unaware of the situation might have thought Shen Wu had come here for a holiday.
"Shen Wu, this is Spring-Returning Powder that Alchemist Cheng refined from a century-old medicinal herb. For ordinary blade and sword wounds, applying a little each day will heal them within a few days."
Zhao Xiu took a porcelain bottle from his robes and pushed it over.
But Shen Wu merely glanced at it before turning away again with a soft chuckle.
"Brother Zhao, having you spend so much every day won't put you in a difficult position, will it?"
"Not at all, not at all."
Zhao Xiu piled on a smile, but he could not hide the pain in his flesh.
A century-old medicinal herb might not have been some rare spiritual plant, but it had still cost a hefty sum to buy from mountain folk.
Under normal circumstances, the moment word got out that it was for sale, people would have fought over it until their heads bled.
The moment Shen Wu moved into the Zhao Family, he had implied that he needed medicinal pills