Ch 107: Treating Poison (1)
Lance carried April in his arms, his expression composed, but his eyes burned with barely contained panic as he sprinted through the streets at full speed.
“April, steady your breathing,” he said softly, his voice trembling despite his attempt to remain firm.“Circulate your spirit qi and confine the poison to your arm. Don’t let it spread. The Pill Pavilion is close… we’ll make it.”
April nodded weakly, her face deathly pale. Sweat streamed down her forehead as she struggled to suppress the invading toxin.
“I’m… trying, but… it’s spreading too fast…” she whispered, biting back a pained gasp.
Lance clenched his jaw and pushed himself even harder.
Within mere breaths, he burst into the emergency wing of the Pill Pavilion, his voice ringing out with raw urgency,
“Help! Physicians! Someone... please save her!”
His shout thundered through the medical hall.
The moment his voice fell, several physicians rushed forward.
Without wasting a second, they guided April from his arms and onto a bed in an emergency treatment chamber just beside the entrance.
A team of physicians surrounded April’s bed, forming a tight circle.
Spiritual light bloomed from their palms as they channelled pure qi into her body, probing and attempting to suppress the toxin in her arm.
April’s wrist had already turned a sickly shade of purple.
Dark veins crept upward like living tendrils, spreading past her forearm toward her elbow.
Each pulse of her heart pushed the poison further.
One physician pressed two fingers against her wrist, brows knitting tightly.
“This is a corrosive-type dark poison,” he said grimly. “Highly invasive… and extremely aggressive.”
Another physician inspected the blackened veins with a trembling hand, then slowly shook his head.
“It’s not something native to the surrounding regions. This poison carries a foreign signature, likely refined through dark methods. We can suppress it briefly, and removal…” He hesitated before continuing. “That is beyond our capabilities.”
A third person, who was a senior alchemist, let out a quiet sigh.
“I’m afraid only a master alchemist could concoct a proper antidote,” he said solemnly. “And even then… it wouldn’t be simple.”
Lance’s pupils contracted.
He stepped forward at once, his composure cracking.
“Then summon a master alchemist,” he demanded hoarsely. “Anyone who can refine an antidote... now. I don’t care about the cost!”
The senior alchemist bowed deeply, his expression heavy with apology.
“Young Master… even for an master alchemist, refining an antidote-grade pill takes several hours at the very least. This kind of poison cannot be neutralized instantly.”
“Hours?” Lance’s voice broke. “She doesn’t have hours!”
A faint movement came from the bed.
April trembled as she forced her eyes open. Despite the pain contorting her features, she managed a weak, small smile.
“Lance…” she murmured. “Don’t… shout…”
Her calm tone cut deeper than any blade.
Lance swallowed hard.
He grasped her cold hand tightly, as if afraid she would slip away the moment he let go.
“Don’t talk,” he said quickly, his voice low and strained. “Save your strength.”
The physicians increased the output of their spirit qi, forming sealing patterns around her arm.
Pale light wrapped around the darkened veins, forcing them to slow, but not stop.
Sweat dripped down their foreheads as their expressions grew grim.
“It’s useless,” one physician muttered. “We’re only delaying the inevitable.”
“At best, we can stall the spread,” another added quietly. “Complete detoxification requires time she simply does not have.”
Lance’s breathing grew shallow as despair pressed heavily against his chest.
Just as his heart was about to sink completely...
A calm, steady voice spoke from behind them.
“Move aside. Let me have a look.”
Su Wen, Suzume, and Du Yue had just stepped out of the Pill Pavilion hall when Su Wen halted mid-step.
His gaze shifted toward the emergency wing.
A crowd had gathered there, layers of people packed together, voices low and tense. Something serious had clearly occurred.
Outside the wing, a gigantic fat man sat upon an enormous reinforced chair, gnawing calmly on a roasted meat leg.
Grease dripped freely, yet his eyes remained fixed on the ward with uncharacteristic seriousness.
Behind him stood a short, sickly-looking gnome, silent and unmoving, his presence easy to overlook.
On the opposite side, leaning casually against the wall, stood a silver-haired young man with sharp brows and silver eyes.
A sword rested across his back, a wine bottle in hand. His posture was relaxed, but his gaze remained steady on the ward.
Su Wen glanced between them, his expression unreadable.
The atmosphere was heavy.
The murmured voices, the crowd, the tension hanging in the air... it all stirred something within him.
Curiosity.
“Let’s take a look,” Su Wen said.
Du Yue nodded, and with Suzume, they stepped into the crowd.
A foul, metallic-sweet stench hit Su Wen the moment he entered.
Corrupted qi lingered thickly in the air.
Fragments of hushed voices drifted through the room.
“That poison… it’s already past the critical threshold.”
“They expect us to cure that?”
“Even if I wanted to try, refining an antidote now? You’d need a miracle… or an alchemist with otherworldly skills.”
At the centre of the room lay a woman in crimson robes, her expression twisted in pain as she struggled to remain conscious.
Black-green veins pulsed beneath her skin, the corruption now pressing dangerously close to her shoulders.
Physicians and alchemists stood around her bed, yet none looked confident.
No one stepped forward.
No one dared take responsibility.
Beside the bed stood a young man, his dragonoid pupils burning fiercely, the arrogance he once carried long stripped away by desperation.
“You have so many alchemists!” he snapped. “Can’t you at least try? I’ll pay whatever it takes... just do something!”
Silence answered him.
No one met his gaze.
Su Wen gave Du Yue a small nod.
Du Yue gently lifted Suzume from his head and stepped aside.
Su Wen exhaled softly and walked forward.
“Move aside,” he said calmly. “Let me have a look.”
No one stopped him.
At this point, even grasping at straws was better than waiting for death.
He took April’s wrist between his fingers, checking her pulse.
“Quiet,” he said, his voice firm. “I need to focus.”
The murmuring continued, until...
Du Yue released a trace of her aura.
It was calm.Restrained.And overwhelmingly arrogant.
The temperature dropped instantly.
Voices died mid-sentence.
A bone-deep chill seized the room.
Even the giant at the entrance leaned forward.
The silver-haired swordsman subtly adjusted his stance.
And Lance...
He felt it too.