Zhi Tianfeng reached out and grabbed Zhen Shizhong by the collar, pulling him up.
"Stand firm," he uttered through gritted teeth.
He turned to look at the thirty-odd comrades beside him.
These people all have several deadly knife scars on their bodies.
They once charged forward through wind and snow, braving enemy swords.
Now, they stand in this mud pit, lined up to be made a fool of like monkeys.
Zhi Tianfeng closed his eyes briefly.
That evening.
Anyang Nanying.
In the dimly lit barracks, eighty veterans sat cross-legged on their bunks.
There was no oil lamp lit, only the moonlight filtering through the thick felt cloth, casting slivers of light.
The room was so quiet that only heavy breathing could be heard.
Zhi Tianfeng stood in the very center, holding a large, black porcelain bowl in his hand.
The bowl contained a brownish medicinal liquid that emitted a strange, bitter smell.
"Zhen Lao Er wrote the letter half a month ago. Yi Prefecture has also replied."
Zhi Tianfeng lowered his voice very much.
" Commandant Zhen is in Yi Prefecture, where the Prince Yi provides him with food. There are no circuses to watch there, only real skills to practice."
No one spoke.
"This medicinal ingredient was sent from Yi Prefecture."
Zhi Tianfeng handed the porcelain bowl forward, "Take a sip each. After drinking it, your meridians will suddenly contract and your internal energy will become disordered."
No matter where the doctor came to take his pulse, he would always find signs of certain death, such as general weakness, exhaustion of qi and blood, and general depletion of vital energy.
According to the Great Yan Law, those suffering from serious illness are exempt from military service.
Then we can leave.
Zhen Shizhong sat beside him, the scabs on his forehead still visible.
"Will I really not die after drinking this medicine?"
"A veteran who had lost half of his little finger asked."
They say the medicine's effects only last three days.
Zhen Shizhong replied, "After three days, he had diarrhea three times and was stronger than an ox."
"What if something goes wrong?"
"A mistake means death."
Zhi Tianfeng's tone was flat and emotionless, "But it's still better than being made a laughingstock out of nothing."
The veterans fell silent.
A few breaths later.
The veteran, whose little finger had been severed, stepped forward and snatched the porcelain bowl.
"I'd rather be poisoned than earn those twenty-five coins." He lowered his head and took a sip.
The bowl was passed down the communal sleeping platform.
Eighty people, each taking a small sip, not a drop left.
Less than half an hour later, suppressed cries of pain began to echo from the barracks.
Some people were writhing in bed clutching their stomachs, some were scratching deep marks into the wooden boards with their fingernails, and some were even coughing up black blood.
Zhi Tianfeng was covered in cold sweat, and it felt as if blades were scraping his bones.
He bit down hard on the rag stuffed in his mouth and turned to look at Zhen Shizhong.
Zhen Shizhong was in so much pain that his eyes rolled back, but he still managed to grin at him.
The next morning.
The largest Hundred Herbs Hall in Anyang City.
Three elderly doctors who had been practicing medicine were dragged into the Zhechong Command camp of the Zhechong Prefecture overnight.
Anyang Zhechong Duwei stood outside the barracks, listening to the shrill coughing sounds inside, his face full of disgust.
The old doctor emerged from the barracks, his hands trembling.
"Your Excellency... the pulses of these soldiers are chaotic and weak, their breaths barely perceptible. It's clear that years of overwork combined with unhealed external injuries have caused them to suffer from chronic fatigue and other ailments."
The doctor wiped the cold sweat from his forehead, "I'm afraid... I'm afraid I'll never be able to lift a knife again in my life."
The captain kicked the door frame.
"Useless! A worthless piece of trash who draws military pay for nothing!"
He let out a cold snort from his nose, "What's the point of folding up arhats? If you die in the camp, you'll still have to pay a settlement fee."
Go and get a roster, and send these eighty dying people away. I don't want any dead people!
One by one, the "retirement due to serious illness" documents stamped with red seals were simply thrown on the muddy ground of the barracks.
Zhi Tianfeng gripped the thin piece of paper tightly, his knuckles digging into his palm.
He tucked the document into his pocket and looked around at his old comrades, who were supporting each other and whose faces were pale.
"Let's go. Let's disguise ourselves and set off!"
Tubo, Silver City.
The night wind whipped up snowflakes that pelted the leather tent, making a dull rustling sound.
Chief Chisang sat cross-legged by the fire, twirling a short knife in his hand as he picked meat off a lamb leg bone.
The flames licked the dry wood, illuminating the scar across his nose on his face.
The tent flap was lifted, and a spy wearing a dirty sheepskin coat knelt down on one knee, his head almost touching the blanket.
"Chief, it's confirmed. That prince of Great Yan named Gu Moran really was thrown into Yi Prefecture. He's supposedly a cripple who's been on medication for years."
Chisang threw the piece of meat into his mouth, chewing until the bones crunched.
Then he grabbed a dirty rag from the side and wiped the blade clean.
"A useless person? Even a useless person is a descendant of the old emperor of the Great Yan."
He stood up, walked to the tent flap, and opened it a crack.
To the south are dark mountain ranges; beyond them lies Jiannan Circuit.
Chisang wasn't interested in the iron from Yi Prefecture; the Great Yan was as brittle as ice shards, and would even chip when cut into bone.
What he cared about was the prosperity of Chuan-Shu.
Coincidentally, Gu Moran the identity of a prince.
"The old emperor abandoned him in this remote place and doesn't care about him anymore; it's perfect for us to take him in."
Chisang turned around and kicked the scout.
"Go pick a few unfamiliar brothers, disguise them as fur traders, and infiltrate Yi Prefecture. Find out the city's defenses and locate that sickly fellow's residence."
The scout clutched his ribs, indicating it was true.
Chisang picked up the mare's milk wine and took a big gulp.
"Next year, once the snow melts, we'll take this piece of junk and exchange it for two Tea Horse Road cities in Great Yan."
Yi Prefecture, the old palace.
Gu Moran had just put down the water channel trend map in her hand when the door was pushed open.
Murong Xue and Lin Qingdai walked in one after the other.
Lin Qingdai's fingers gripped the scabbard, moving quickly.
Murong Xue held a soft whip wrapped around her wrist, the tip of the whip lashing her skirt repeatedly.
Gu Moran's eyelids twitched, and she pushed the blueprints to the corner of the table.
"Ladies, is there something you need?"
Murong Xue walked a few steps to the desk, placed her hands on the table, leaned forward, and a sweet fragrance wafted over her.
"Your Highness, I heard that Miss Yun stayed here for a full hour again today?"
"Send the ledgers." Gu Moran's tone was flat, but her heart was pounding.
Why is Murong Xue making herself smell so good?
"Delivering an account book takes an hour?" Lin Qingdai sneered, pulled up a chair and sat down, the scabbard of her sword striking the bluestone bricks with a crisp sound.
"I heard from Auntie Zhao that that girl took His Highness's fox fur coat to be washed again today? Does she really think she's his personal maid?"
Gu Moran picked up the teacup and skimmed the foam off the lid.
The acidity in this room could melt a blast furnace made of iron.
He thought for three breaths, put down his teacup, and stood up.
Murong Xue was still leaning on the table, unaware that he was approaching.
Gu Moran casually put his arm around her waist and pulled her into his embrace.
Murong Xue gasped and tried to break free, but the hands on her waist held her tightly.
Lin Qingdai stood up abruptly, and before she could even draw her sword, Gu Moran's other hand was already on her shoulder.
"Sit down." Gu Moran's voice wasn't loud, but his grip on her hand didn't loosen.
Murong Xue blushed, and the soft whip fell to the ground.
Lin Qingdai's shoulders were tense, but she didn't shake his hand off.
" The Yun Shuyue is bright in Yi Prefecture's streets and alleys; they're quick to run errands. That's all."
Gu Moran released his hand and sat down behind the desk.
"But you two, with all your skills, are wasting your time watching over a mere girl."
Lin Qingdai raised her chin.
"Is Your Highness finding us annoying?"