The Murong residence, inner quarters.
The brightly candlelit bedchamber was thick with the smell of medicine and an oppressively heavy atmosphere.
The chief physician of Spring Return Hall, the most renowned medical practice in Youzhou, was an old man with white hair and beard. He had just finished treating the unconscious Murong Ying's sword wounds and was now carefully examining the severed arm, which had turned an uncanny grayish white.
After a long while, he withdrew his hands and sighed heavily, slowly shaking his head at those gathered around the bed.
"Patriarch Murong, gentlemen, forgive this old man for speaking plainly."
The old physician's voice was grave. "This lingering Sword Qi... is domineering and fierce beyond all comprehension. Wherever the blade passed, it destroyed not only flesh and bone. Worse still... all vitality within the meridians and acupoints has been utterly extinguished. There is no possibility whatsoever of reattaching the arm or healing it. Young Master Murong's right arm... alas, it is already a tremendous blessing that his life could be saved."
Dead silence filled the room. A falling pin could have been heard.
Several men stood beside the bed.
At their center stood a man of about fifty, whose features bore a strong resemblance to Murong Ying's, though they were far more imposing and solemn. He was the current patriarch of the Murong Clan—Murong Qianqiu. Beside him stood his younger brother, Murong Wanli, sharp-featured and vigorous. Beyond them were two old men with extraordinarily powerful auras, one fat and one thin, forming a stark contrast.
The fat man had a face as round as the full moon and kindly features, but his brocade robe could barely contain his mountainlike bulk. His fingers were short and thick, their knuckles protruding. He was the Murong Family's chief Attendant, Chu Zhenyue, the