Chapter Forty-Eight: Journeying Day and Night

Of all those who received the news, none was more shaken than Zhan Yan. The moment she heard it, she felt as though her very breath had stopped. Deep down, she knew that Zhongli Yu would never put his own survival above the lives of Dongling’s people. From the moment of his birth, he had carried the heavy duty of safeguarding Dongling; even if it meant his own death, he would march toward it without hesitation. As she read the report delivered by the hidden guards, Zhan Yan’s hands trembled—she could hardly believe such heartless, shameless acts were possible.

“Yan girl, Yan girl.” She was still trembling when she heard the old Prince calling from outside. He, too, must have received the news.

“Grandfather.” Forcing herself to remain calm, Zhan Yan softly called out.

“Child, is it true? Has Xiyuan truly stooped to such despicable deeds?” The old Prince’s voice quavered, as though he could not bear to believe it.

“Grandfather…” Zhan Yan could find no words to comfort him.

“No, I won’t let Yu’er do this. I’ll go to Wangcheng myself—if it comes to it, I’ll trade my life for my grandson’s.” The old Prince spoke with unwavering resolve.

“To Wangcheng?” Zhan Yan snapped out of her daze. Yes, she must go to Wangcheng. She couldn’t let him die.

“Grandfather, I know what to do now. Trust me, I will bring my husband back.” Zhan Yan gripped the old Prince’s hand firmly.

“Child?” Seeing the determination in her eyes, a glimmer of hope flashed in the old Prince’s gaze.

“Grandfather, I know what needs to be done.” Zhan Yan reached into her pocket and produced a signal flare. “Qingyun, send this up. I must see Divine Physician Meng at once.”

“Yes, miss.” Qingyun hurried out.

“Grandfather, please go back and rest, all right? It will be fine.” Zhan Yan gently patted the old Prince’s back to soothe him. At this moment, he was not a noble prince, but simply an old man worried for his child.

“Very well, child. I leave Yu’er in your hands.” The old Prince looked long and deeply at his granddaughter-in-law. It seemed this girl was far from simple—how could Yu’er have chosen an ordinary woman? Perhaps he should trust her, after all; he was getting old.

“Child, you asked for me?” In less than the time it took to drink a cup of tea, Divine Physician Meng, Meng Tao, appeared before Zhan Yan.

“Grandfather Meng, I need one of your Great Returning Pills.” Zhan Yan stated her purpose without preamble. Divine Physician Meng and her late grandfather had been sworn brothers, which was why she’d enlisted his help years ago to spread the rumor that she would not live past fifteen. The Great Returning Pill was a legendary elixir, said to revive the dead and heal the gravely wounded, and only Meng Tao could create such a remedy. Yet few knew this secret, and after forty years of study, Meng Tao had succeeded in making only two. Zhan Yan needed to be fully prepared for any eventuality.

“I knew you would come to me, girl. I’ve been on my way here since dawn.” Meng Tao took a small porcelain bottle from his robes and handed it to her.

“Thank you, Grandfather Meng.” Zhan Yan’s eyes grew moist; she was too moved for words.

“Go, child. Prince Chun is a good man—this pill is well spent on him.” Meng Tao gazed at Zhan Yan with affection. “But you must reach Wangcheng as quickly as possible. If you are too late, not even the Great Returning Pill can turn the tide.”

“I understand. I’ll get there as fast as I can.”

“Good. You go first, I’ll follow as soon as I can. I’m old now and may not keep up, and I don’t wish to slow you down.” Meng Tao spoke with resignation.

“If you can come, Grandfather Meng, it would mean everything to me.”

“No need for thanks between us, child. Hurry along now.” Meng Tao waved her off. He had no children of his own and felt a special bond with Zhan Yan. He’d once hoped to teach her medicine, but she always spent her time practicing martial arts and helping others, never settling down to learn. Still, he was in no hurry—he believed he had plenty of years left.

Zhan Yan instructed Qingyun to pack quickly, then rushed straight to Ma Si. Her sole purpose was to rescue Zhongli Yu—even if he had already died, she would drag him back from the gates of the underworld, for she would not consent to his death.

When she arrived at Ma Si, Teng Yun stood quietly waiting, sadness in its eyes, as if sensing its master was in peril.

Patting its head gently, Zhan Yan whispered, “Whether we can save your master in time depends on you. Run with all your might, don’t stop until we find him. Do you understand?”

Teng Yun seemed to comprehend, nodding lightly. As soon as Zhan Yan leapt onto its back, it shot forward at a wild gallop. The bystanders had no time to see clearly before horse and rider flashed past. The city guards saw only a white blur streak through the gate—when they looked again, it was gone, and they thought they must have been seeing things.

Qingyun and the others, lacking a steed as fine as Teng Yun, could only set out in pursuit. Before leaving, Zhan Yan had already notified Feng Lin, the leader of the hidden guards of Leisure Pavilion, to follow after her. When Zhongli Yu had set out for war, he’d ordered Feng Lin to stay behind and protect Zhan Yan, taking only Lihun and three other close guards with him.

Feng Lin followed Zhan Yan’s trail, falling behind several times. He was forced to use his lightness technique to catch up, but even after a full day’s travel, Zhan Yan showed no sign of stopping.

“Madam, shouldn’t you rest for a while?” Feng Lin watched Zhan Yan push herself mercilessly, worried that her body would give out. Even he, a man trained daily, was nearing his limit—how could a delicate woman bear it?

“I’m fine. You have no horse, and using your lightness technique nonstop will wear you out. There’s no need to keep up with me; it’s all right if you arrive later.” Zhan Yan glanced at Feng Lin, noting his pale face—he had clearly expended too much inner energy.

“Madam…”

“That’s enough. It’s decided.” Zhan Yan cut him off, motioning for Teng Yun to press on.

Feng Lin wanted to protest, but Zhan Yan had already vanished ahead. Inwardly, he couldn’t help but admire her. He’d never understood why his master was so devoted to this woman, but now it became clear. As night fell, Feng Lin had no choice but to stop and rest, hoping Madam would reach the master in time.

Zhan Yan dared not pause, racing day and night. A journey that should have taken five or six days, she meant to complete in two. Without a horse like Teng Yun, the finest in the land, she could not have hoped to make it.

Within the Ning City general’s residence, anxiety pervaded. No one could think of a solution. Xiyuan had captured over ten thousand Dongling civilians—far too many to rescue. Was there no choice but to watch as Prince Chun went to his death? Without him, they would be leaderless and lost. Xiyuan’s scheme was truly ruthless: just as Dongling seemed on the verge of victory, they had struck this fatal blow—none could have foreseen it.

“Master Lihun, has Prince Chun still not come out?” Liu An approached the study door, anxiously questioning Lihun. Zhongli Yu had locked himself inside for two days, and with the deadline looming tomorrow, everyone’s nerves were frayed. At last, they’d sent Liu An as a representative to inquire.

Lihun shook his head, equally at a loss.

Just as Liu An hesitated, wondering whether to knock, the study door opened. Zhongli Yu emerged, expression calm, though his face looked weary—no doubt from two days without rest.

“Greetings, Prince Chun.” Liu An stepped forward, overcome with emotion. Zhongli Yu nodded, signaling him to rise. “Lihun, summon all the commanders to the council hall.”

“Yes, master.” Lihun hurried off to relay the order.