The lacquered gates of the Chen opened with a slow, deliberate creak, revealing a courtyard paved in white jade stone. Even the air seemed refined—heavy with the scent of sandalwood and quiet authority. Servants lined the path in orderly rows, their heads bowed, not daring to lift their gaze.
At the entrance stood Steward Han, his posture stiff, his expression tight with urgency.
When Mei Chen finally appeared beyond the gates, the steward's eyes flickered with relief.
"Welcome back, Young Master Chen." Steward Han said quickly, not wasting time on formalities. "Master Chen's condition has worsened."
"Master Ping," he bowed his head and his gaze swept across and landed on Zheng. "Who might this young man be?"
"This is Master Zheng," Mei Chen said boldly. "He came here on my invitation to treat grandfather."
"Greeting Master Zheng." Stewart Han said softly.
They moved swiftly through corridors adorned with silk banners and gold inlay. Murmurs echoed faintly behind carved screens—family members whispering, servants speculating, fear disguised as decorum. The deeper they went, the quieter it became, until even footsteps seemed unwelcome.
At last, they reached a pair of towering doors carved with intricate dragon motifs.
Steward Han pushed them open. "Master Chen is inside."
Zheng stepped through without pause.
Inside, the room was dim despite its size. Curtains had been drawn tight, and only a few spirit lamps flickered, casting long, wavering shadows across the walls. At the center of the chamber lay a grand bed, upon which rested an old man, his face pale as paper, his breathing shallow and uneven.
Beside him stood the Lu Chen, a man whose presence alone made everyone uneasy. His sharp eyes immediately locked onto Zheng.
"Who is he?" Lu Chen said, voice cold.
Mei Chen did not care to greet her uncle. "This is master Zheng. I brought him today to cure my grandfather."
A flicker of irritation passed through the Lu Chen's gaze, but he said nothing more.
"Save him?" he said simply.
Zheng approached the bed, setting his satchel down. Up close, the condition of the old master was far worse than it appeared at a distance. A faint black vein pulsed beneath his skin, creeping slowly along his neck like a living thing.
Poison.
But not an ordinary one.
Zheng's fingers hovered above the patient's wrist before gently pressing down to feel his pulse. His expression remained calm, but his eyes sharpened ever so slightly.
"How long has he been like this?" he asked.
"four months," Steward Han answered quickly. "We've summoned many healers but none could identify the cause."
Zheng said nothing in response. Instead, he reached into his satchel and withdrew a thin silver needle. Without warning, he pierced a point near the young master's collarbone.
The old Master Chen's aura flared instantly.
"What are you doing—"
"Quiet," Zheng said flatly.
The room fell into a suffocating silence.
A moment later, a thin wisp of black mist seeped out from the puncture point, coiling faintly in the air before dissipating. The old master's body twitched violently, his breathing hitching as if caught between life and death.
Zheng withdrew the needle, examining its darkened tip.
"This is no ordinary poison," he said at last. "It's a Soul-Eroding Venom. It doesn't just attack the body—it devours the spirit."
Mei Chen's expression darkened. "Can you cure it?"
Zheng met her gaze, unflinching. "Yes."
A wave of relief rippled through the room—Lu Chen was visibly distressed but it was short lived.
"But not easily," Zheng continued. "And not cheaply."
The air grew tense once more.
Lu Chen narrowed his eyes. "Name your price." He said plainly, without any sincerity.
Zheng carefully placed the needle back into his satchel before answering.
"I want access to your Spirit Herb Vault," he said. "Full access. And I will choose what I need."
Steward Han sucked in a sharp breath. Even he knew what that meant—the Chen family's vault contained treasures gathered over generations. To open it to an outsider was no small matter.
The Lu Chen's gaze turned icy. "You dare—"
"Stewart Han," Mei Chen interrupted calmly, "Show Master Zheng to the vault."
Silence.
Heavy, suffocating and tense silence.
Mei Chen looked down at her grandfather, her jaw tightening ever so slightly. For a moment, the powerful figure seemed… human.
Then, she spoke.
"Now."
Steward Han's eyes widened.
"But," the Stewart Han added, his voice dropping to a whisper, "if Master Chen finds out… Ma-Master will be furious."
Mei Chen simply nodded, "Nothing is more important than my grandfather." She couldn't care less about anything else.
"Prepare a quiet room," Zheng said, already turning back to his satchel. "And bring me a bowl of clean water. I'll begin immediately."
As servants rushed to obey, Zheng cast one final glance at the Old master.
The faint black veins pulsed again beneath the skin.
This was no simple case.
And somewhere, hidden beneath the surface, something far more sinister was waiting to awaken.