Xuan Zhi stepped into the manor, his body aching from exhaustion, his eyes struggling to stay open. The day had drained him, but as soon as he crossed the entrance, he saw Xuan Mei waiting for him with worried eyes. She was just eleven years old, but the concern in her expression was far beyond her years, resembling that of a mother caring for her child.

  “Brother, are you alright?” Xuan Mei asked, rushing to his side. “You look pale.”

  Xuan Zhi forced a small smile and ruffled her soft hair. “I’m fine, Mei. Just a little tired.”

  “You’re the Second Prince of a great kingdom! Why are you pushing yourself like this?” she asked, her voice shaking. “You don’t need to do all this work yourself.”

  Xuan Zhi’s eyes softened. He crouched down to her level and cupped her tiny face in his hands. “I am no longer a prince, Mei. We are no longer in the Xuan Dynasty. Here, I am just a commoner trying to survive.”

  Xuan Mei bit her lip and lowered her eyes. She knew he was right, but she still hated seeing him this way—so overworked and pushing himself beyond his limits.

  Xuan Zhi gently took her hand. “Let’s go inside.”

  As they stepped into the hall, Xuan Yan was already waiting for them. She sat with her arms crossed, tapping her foot impatiently. When she saw Xuan Zhi’s exhausted face, she immediately stood up and frowned.

  “You look like you’re about to colpse,” Xuan Yan stated bluntly.

  Xuan Zhi chuckled. “Is that your way of showing concern?”

  Xuan Yan narrowed her eyes. “I’m saying you should go to bed before you drop dead.”

  “I was pnning to,” Xuan Zhi said, raising his hands in surrender.

  Xuan Yan clicked her tongue but didn’t push further. Xuan Mei, however, continued to fuss over him, ensuring he ate something before finally letting him retreat to his room. As he y down, his body instantly succumbed to sleep, barely giving him a moment to process the day’s events.

  -

  Meanwhile, in the border region of the Gu Dynasty, Xuan Heng and Xuan Qing stood before the merchants who had risked much to help them escape. Their injuries were still severe, but they were alive, and for that, they were grateful.

  “This is the address of your brother, Xuan Zhi,” the merchant leader said, handing over a piece of parchment. “From here on, you’re on your own. We’ve done all we can.”

  Xuan Heng took the paper and nodded. “Understood. Thank you for everything.”

  Before he could say more, Xuan Qing cut in. “If you ever need help, just send word. We’ll repay this debt.”

  The merchant leader chuckled and shook his head. “No need. We helped out of goodwill, not for repayment.”

  Xuan Qing clenched his jaw, unused to such selflessness, but he remained silent. Xuan Heng, on the other hand, bowed deeply. “We will never forget this kindness.”

  With that, the merchants departed, leaving the two injured princes standing alone in the vast bordernds.

  -

  The next morning, sunlight streamed through the wooden ttice windows of Xing Manor, casting a soft glow over the bathing chamber where Xuan Zhi was preparing to cleanse his exhausted body. He had pushed himself beyond his limits the previous day, treating multiple members of the Xie family without rest. Now, submerged in the warm water of the wooden bathtub, he finally allowed his tense muscles to rex.

  His snow-like white foot stepped delicately into the steaming bath, causing ripples to spread across the surface. His pale, almost translucent skin glowed in the golden morning light, and his long, silken blond hair cascaded over his shoulders, clinging to his bare back. With a deep sigh, Xuan Zhi lowered himself into the water, his lithe and graceful figure sinking until only his colrbones and head remained above the surface. His features, usually composed and serene, softened as the warmth seeped into his fatigued limbs.

  Closing his striking red eyes, he let the heat soak into his bones, the herbal scents of the bath soothing him. But just as he was beginning to feel at peace, his eyes suddenly snapped open. A thought had struck him like a bolt of lightning.

  "Damn... why the hell is Snowfke Poison even existing in this world?!" he muttered, standing up abruptly in the bath, water cascading down his fwless skin.

  His mind raced, recalling every bit of medical knowledge he had acquired in his previous life. Snowfke Poison was no ordinary toxin—it wasn’t derived from mere pnts or minerals like common poisons of this era. It was a bio-engineered substance, created by maniputing bacterial infections and harvesting their venomous secretions. It was designed with a purpose: to erode Yang energy in the body while amplifying Yin energy, ultimately leading to paralysis and a gradual shutdown of the nervous system.

  Xuan Zhi clenched his fists. This poison was sophisticated—far beyond the knowledge of any physician in this world. It was something that belonged to an era of advanced microbiology, where researchers had already identified bacterial pathogens and their effects on the human body. Yet, this world cked even the most basic understanding of germs and bacteria. Physicians still believed illnesses were caused by imbances of Qi and bad air.

  “How?” he whispered. “How can something created through bacterial manipution exist in a world where they don’t even know what bacteria are?”

  He repyed everything he had observed about the poison so far. The symptoms were consistent: depletion of Yang energy, over-accumution of Yin, progressive paralysis. But the most disturbing part was how it interacted with the body. Snowfke Poison worked on a microscopic level, something no one here could even begin to comprehend. If it had been introduced naturally, it should have mutated randomly, appearing in different, less efficient forms. But no, this version was refined.

  “Which means…” Xuan Zhi’s breath hitched. “Someone—somewhere—designed it intentionally.”

  His stomach twisted. If Snowfke Poison was artificially created in this world, it could mean only one thing: there was another person here who understood bacterial infections. Someone else had knowledge from a more advanced era, someone who had weaponized it for their own purposes.

  His expression darkened. If this poison had been created with such precision, then the mastermind behind it was no ordinary figure. This was not just a random case of poisoning—it was an orchestrated attempt to incapacitate powerful figures. And if the Xie family was affected, then that meant the target was no mere noble house.

  His mind whirled with possibilities. Had someone else transmigrated into this world like him? Or was this a case of forbidden alchemy or hidden knowledge passed down in secrecy?

  One thing was clear: whoever was behind this poison was dangerous.

  Meanwhile, at the Xie Mansion, Xie Liyun slowly opened his eyes. The morning light filtering through the paper windows felt unusually gentle today. For the first time in years, his body did not feel as stiff or as heavy as before. He slowly clenched his hands, testing his grip, and found that his fingers responded with ease.

  Relief flooded his chest. It was only the first treatment out of ten, yet he could already feel the difference. The weight that had pgued him for so long seemed to have lifted just a little. His usually stoic face showed a flicker of emotion—a rare moment of genuine hope.

  Sitting up in bed, he exhaled, his mind immediately shifting to the greater picture. If the Xie family survived this poison, then everything would change. The Emperor had thought he could eliminate their influence by gradually weakening them, making them incapable of rebelling or even defending themselves. But he had underestimated their resilience.

  Xie Liyun’s eyes turned cold and calcuting. His fingers traced over the veins in his wrist, where the remnants of the poison still lurked. If he and his family recovered, then they would rise again. And when they did, the Emperor would face the consequences of his treachery.

  He stood up, his movements still slightly sluggish but far better than before. He walked to the window, gazing at the courtyard below where soldiers were training. His sharp, piercing gaze hardened with resolve.

  “If the Xie family lives through this poison,” he muttered, his voice like steel, “then the Emperor… is finished.”

  Yan Rui, who had been standing outside the room, overheard these words. A shiver ran down his spine. He had followed Xie Liyun for years, but he had never seen this level of sheer determination in his general’s eyes before. The man standing before him was not just a war hero; he was a force of nature, a storm waiting to be unleashed.

  Yan Rui bowed slightly and entered the room. “General, should I begin preparations?”

  Xie Liyun turned to him, his expression unreadable. “No. Not yet.”

  Yan Rui blinked. “Then—”

  “First, we recover,” Xie Liyun interrupted. “Then we pn.”

  Yan Rui nodded solemnly. He understood. The Xie family had spent years lying low, waiting, biding their time. If they tried to act before fully regaining their strength, they would fall before they could strike.

  Xie Liyun crossed his arms, deep in thought. His meeting with Xuan Zhi had left a profound impression on him. The young man was intelligent—far more knowledgeable than his years suggested. And more importantly, he had the ability to cure an otherwise incurable affliction.

  Xie Liyun’s eyes darkened. The Xie family would owe Xuan Zhi a great debt after this, but he had no intention of simply being indebted. If Xuan Zhi was as sharp as he seemed, then he would realize the value of having the Xie family as allies.

  And if he ever needed assistance in the future… Xie Liyun would ensure that the full force of the Xie family stood behind him.

  The Emperor had thought them weak. But weakness was temporary.

  And once they were strong again…

  The entire Gu Dynasty would tremble.