Volume One: The Most Heartless Phoenix Tree Flower Chapter Fifteen: Healing

The ambitions of kings and conquerors fade with the passing of ages;
Across the human world, the vast sea knows no homeland.
In the northern frontier, lonely souls lie forgotten,
Once-heroic elders now live as farmers in twilight years.
Yellow sands cannot hide the beacon tower,
The bright moon often shines coldly on withered bones.
Where the lone smoke spirals in the great desert,
How many return, shrouded in horsehide?
— From the Collected Poems of Lanling

A chill wind swept relentlessly into the grand hall, striving in vain to disperse the pervasive scent of blood. All around, bodies lay scattered, weapons and armor strewn in disarray, and the air was riven with anguished wails that tore at the soul.

Yet to Zhuo Hua, all of this seemed as fleeting as the passing of seasons—spring breeze, summer rain, autumn frost, winter snow. The voice that had just emanated from the sovereign’s body left him frozen, though inwardly, his emotions surged like a tempest: Was this not that very presence—haunting his dreams, once his constant companion through countless voids, her wisdom piercing the nothingness, her beauty unrivaled in all realms—the Supreme Sage Maiden of the Nine Heavens, Fairy Lanling?

At the memory of the title she had so grandly bestowed upon herself, Zhuo Hua could not help but let a trace of a smile curl his lips. Yet this ephemeral smile was soon swallowed by the icy severity of his expression. He thought: She has returned, appearing before him with such suddenness, only to vanish again just as abruptly, leaving not the slightest trace of longing behind.

But this was only her divine consciousness inhabiting the king’s body; she herself had not manifested in this void. Had it been otherwise, even the faint energy from Lanling’s spirit—when Qin Ying shielded Zhuo Hua from that recent blow—would have obliterated Qin Ying entirely. Though Qin Ying had passed the Auspicious Cloud Tribulation and reached the rank of Constellation, such cultivation was as feeble as an ant’s before Lanling.

Only the vast distance between her spirit and corporeal form had dimmed her power so much that, by the time it crossed the barren void to reach them, most of its force had dissipated. Otherwise...

“Alas! You have still not truly returned!” Zhuo Hua’s heart was heavy with emptiness.

At that moment, a clamor rose from the imperial steps outside the hall. Su Xin, Zhuo Yun, and Princess Guangping were racing towards them, each calling out for those they held dear. From the moment the king had been cast out of the hall to the time the others rushed in, only five or six breaths had passed—yet to Zhuo Hua, it felt like tens of thousands of years.

“Sister Qin! Sister Qin! Yuan Shang, what has happened to Sister Qin?” Zhuo Yun’s face was wild with panic, her delicate features already streaked with tears. Su Xin too wore a look of disbelief and fury, her cheeks wet. Old Jiao’s eyes blazed, so wide it seemed they might leap from his skull at any moment.

Zhuo Hua addressed them, “Qin Ying’s life is not in danger. I need a quiet place at once to tend her wounds.” Just then, Princess Guangping’s voice broke in, calling for her father: “Father! Father! Wake up, please!” She shook the king vigorously, but his eyes stared blankly, blood still trickling from the corner of his mouth, the rise and fall of his chest growing ever fainter.

“What’s the use of shouting? Stand aside and let me reduce this old villain to ashes with thunderfire, then burn this filthy palace to the ground!” Old Jiao shoved the princess aside with his left hand, hoisted the king’s body high overhead with his right, and strode towards the center of the square. The thousands of palace guards recoiled before him like a retreating tide, none daring to intervene.

Guangping scrambled after him, grasping his right leg with both hands and shrieked, “Lin Bai! You mustn’t! That night in my chambers, you agreed to our betrothal. You cannot kill your future father-in-law!”

Old Jiao halted, then without looking back, threw out, “We haven’t performed the rites—he’s not yet.” With that, he continued toward the square.

Zhuo Hua called out, “Lin Bai, bring the king back to me. This matter concerns Cloud Palace and is of utmost importance.” Then, turning to Guangping, he said, “Your Highness, please arrange a quiet place for me at once. I must tend to the king and my handmaid without delay—their wounds are grave.”

The princess started in surprise, then, overjoyed, replied, “Yes—my chambers have everything you need.”

Fangyi Palace, Princess Guangping’s residence.

Heavy blue gauze drapes shrouded the chamber in darkness; not a single ray of light penetrated within. On the left lay Qin Ying; on the right, the king.

Zhuo Hua examined their injuries first. The king appeared gravely wounded: his chest slightly sunken from Zhuo Hua’s blow. Yet because Lanling’s divine consciousness resided within him, his life was not in jeopardy despite the trauma. Furthermore, Zhuo Hua’s intent had only been to force Lanling to reveal herself, not to kill the king. He administered a healing elixir to the king to restore his vital energy and turned his full attention to Qin Ying’s wounds.

Qin Ying’s breathing was now so feeble that one had to press ear to her lips to feel it.

Zhuo Hua retrieved a golden elixir to heighten her light and energy conversion, then drew forth the Azure Moon Pearl from his Infinity Pouch. His left hand traced a golden sun in the air, his right cradled the pearl, as he chanted, “With compassion and virtue, let radiant light shine forth. Azure Moon Pearl, arise!” At his words, the pearl flared with brilliance, hovering above Qin Ying’s brow and spinning ceaselessly. Zhuo Hua pricked his middle and index fingers with a golden needle, letting his blood drip into Qin Ying’s mouth.

The blood of the Xuanhuang Clan was the finest healing catalyst, but it required the Phoenix Paulownia flower as a complement. Zhuo Hua rummaged in the Infinity Pouch, withdrew two dried petals, hesitated, and then pinched off half a petal to return to the bag.

Though the Phoenix Paulownia was a sacred healing herb, it was also the most potent poison of cold in the world—its effect must be balanced by the pure yang blood of the Xuanhuang Clan.

Qin Ying had been utterly depleted, her energy shattered; though Zhuo Hua’s blood protected her heart, he feared an overdose might inflict irreversible harm.

He crushed the petal with his fingers and, using his energy, sent the mixture of blood and petal shards into Qin Ying’s mouth, while with his other hand, he guided the Azure Moon Pearl to bathe her from head to toe in its radiance. This healing cycle was repeated nine times before he stopped.

Finally, Zhuo Hua brought out the Alchemy Furnace, kindled a fire, and placed inside scales of the Golden Martial Mountain Beast, tail feathers of the Green Oriole, and ivory of the Frosted Sea Elephant. He added ten drops of his own blood, paused in thought, and decided that still, one more ingredient was needed.

With a creak, Zhuo Hua pushed open the door and stepped into the forecourt of Fangyi Palace.

A crowd had already gathered—royals and nobles of Yan, ministers of civil and military rank, as well as Old Jiao, Su Xin, and Zhuo Yun. The atmosphere was tense, as if a fierce argument had only just subsided. At the sight of Zhuo Hua, all surged forward, clamoring anxiously for news of the wounded. But Zhuo Hua’s heart was too tumultuous to entertain them; he waved to Old Jiao, “Lin Bai, come inside with me.”

At once, all fell silent, watching in bewilderment as Old Jiao strode in. Soon, the noise rose again, and some martial officials made to force their way inside, but Su Xin and Zhuo Yun barred the doorway, spirit weapons drawn, their eyes fierce.

Su Xin barked, “If anyone dares disturb the healing, they will pay with their lives!” All present had heard the tales of what had transpired in the main hall; now, they exchanged uneasy glances and withdrew in a hushed, shuffling retreat. Only when the crowd was at the foot of the steps did Su Xin and Zhuo Yun lower their guards, though their vigilance did not waver in the slightest.