FID – Chapter 924

Chapter 924: I Came Following You

  Xue Qinglian said nothing. The man’s eyes were icy and clear, stripped of his usual frivolous, devil-may-care attitude; his entire presence had sharpened into something piercing.

  Uncle had finally grown suspicious.

  Honglian had been injured—such a fatal wound that even Baicao Valley, a century-old medical clan, could not have restored most of his vitality in just a few days.

  And then there was the whipping.

  His entire back had been beaten until flesh and blood were mangled, bone exposed, yet he managed to escape from Dongyue’s capital before dawn the very next day.

  He had shown flaws before Uncle as well.

  It was they who had hinted to his uncle that he possessed exceptionally potent medicine, and the source of that medicine invited suspicion.

  “Uncle, Feng Qingbai is Aunt’s child and carries the blood of Baicao Valley,” Xue Qinglian fixed his gaze on the man and asked, “Why are you so desperate to kill him?”

  These words successfully changed the man’s expression. His earlier solemnity vanished in an instant, replaced by furious, twisted rage.

“Baicao Valley’s bloodline? What bloodline? He is a bastard! A mongrel! She was a Baicao Valley lady doctor, yet she debased herself with the Emperor. She tainted Baicao Valley’s blood!”

  He. She.

  Xue Zhong had not spoken any names, but Xue Qinglian already knew who those two ‘he’ and ‘she’ referred to.

  His brow slowly furrowed.

  Every time Feng Qingbai was mentioned, his uncle’s emotions turned violent. Was it truly only because of this?

  Was it only because Feng Qingbai was his aunt’s child with the Emperor?

  “No matter how resentful you are, Aunt’s son is now Nanling’s foremost ruler—the King of Nanling. And you, Uncle… you’ve fallen to hiding everywhere, reduced to a drowned dog that everyone wants to beat—”

  ”Slap!”

  A vicious slap cut off Xue Qinglian’s words.

  It struck the side of his face.

  A metallic taste of blood seeped from the corner of his mouth.

  That slap seemed to calm Xue Zhong as well. He sat opposite Xue Qinglian, staring at him coldly.

  “I have already become a drowned dog. I never expected to escape from being hunted by three nations. I know very well how much Feng Qingbai wants to catch me,” he said. “Every word you speak now stands on his side. I won’t force you, but I am still your uncle, Qinglian.”

  “Whatever Uncle requests—if I can do it, I will not refuse,” Xue Qinglian replied with a self-mocking smile.

  His uncle had raised him. No matter how unruly he was, he was not ungrateful.

  His uncle understood him all too well.

  “The Princess of Nanling is famed as a divine physician. You stayed in the King’s Manor for that reason, didn’t you? Since childhood, you loved studying medicine and creating remedies. Finding someone who shares your passion and earns your respect… that is no easy thing.”

  Xue Qinglian fell silent.

  He had already guessed what his uncle wanted to say.

  “The only doctor you’ve ever truly admired is her. Her medical skills must be extraordinary. And my wish…” Xue Zhong patted the armrests of his wheelchair, “…is to leave this chair and stand again.”

  “She can’t do it.”

  “You haven’t even tried. How do you know she can’t? Or are you worried that a cripple like me could still harm her?”

  Xue Qinglian lifted his gaze. “Honglian asked her about it long ago and told her your condition. Uncle, your meridians have been severed for more than ten years. Not even an immortal of the highest heavens could save you, let alone an ordinary physician. You think too highly of her. With expectations that great, the disappointment will only hurt you more.”

  Their eyes locked, each staring directly at the other.

  Something in the air seemed to collide with force—unyielding, immovable.

  Neither giving way, neither willing to lose..

  After a long moment, a low laugh escaped the man.

  ‘An immortal of the highest heavens?’ he echoed, tasting the words. At last he slowly closed his eyes, the muscles in his face quivering,

  And little by little, sorrow and desolation seeped through.   

  Under the dim yellow light, the lines on his face appeared deep and weathered.

  When he opened his eyes again, he had already returned to his usual self—calm, steady, detached.

  He lifted the teapot, poured himself a cup of tea, then poured another for Xue Qinglian and pushed it across the table. “Compared to Honglian, you’ve always been the unruly one. All these years, I’ve let you be. I’ve spent more than a decade fixated solely on revenge. I know I haven’t been a very competent uncle… Have you ever resented me for being too harsh on you two in the past? For pushing you too hard?”

  Staring at the cup of tea, Xue Qinglian remained silent for a long time before finally saying, “No.”

  After speaking, he drained the tea in one gulp.

  The tea, long since gone cold, carried a bitter taste as it slid down his throat and seeped into his chest.

  Setting the cup down, Xue Qinglian rose to his feet.

“This cup of tea repays Uncle’s years of raising and teaching me. From now on, we owe each other nothing. But I’ll still offer you one last piece of advice: stop fixating on revenge. You know the real reason Baicao Valley was exterminated back then.”

  He walked past the man toward the door. “I still respect you as my uncle. I won’t let Feng Qingbai kill you. Uncle, leave tomorrow.”

  He opened the door. The courtyard outside was pitch-dark.

  A tall, straight figure stood quietly in the yard. At the sound of the door opening, the man turned his head, his eyes calm and cool.

  Xue Qinglian’s expression changed slightly.

  “I followed you here,” the man said, without the slightest hint of shame at having trailed someone.

  His clear, steady voice was mild, yet in the night carried a piercing force, pressing heavily on the senses.

  “Feng Qingbai… Can you pretend you didn’t see anything tonight?” Xue Qinglian asked softly.

  ”No.”

  Xue Qinglian closed his eyes and let out a bitter laugh. He shouldn’t have bothered asking.

  Since Feng Qingbai had come here, how could he possibly pretend nothing had happened? How could he let a tiger return to the mountains and leave behind endless hidden dangers?

  His methods had always been ruthless.

  If he had followed them here and even laid a net across the entire capital, he would never leave empty-handed.

  His uncle could no longer escape.

  Looking at the man standing in the courtyard, hands clasped behind his back, calm, composed, utterly in control, Xue Qinglian’s sleeve trembled slightly as a medicine pouch slipped quietly into his palm.

  The air subtly shifted again, tension rising in an unspoken standoff.

  The sound of wheelchair wheels rolled closer, slow and steady.

  “Your Highness, you personally came in the middle of the night to arrest a cripple like me… I am unworthy of such effort. I will go with you.” The wheelchair stopped at the doorway. Xue Zhong looked toward the man in the courtyard and smiled.

  “Uncle!” Xue Qinglian frowned, staring at him in confusion.

  His uncle was never someone who waited passively for death, much less someone who would surrender without even attempting to resist.

  Why was he being so decisive now?

  The man didn’t look at him. He turned the wheelchair and headed straight for Feng Qingbai.

  As the chair drew closer and closer, shadow guards appeared around Feng Qingbai, sword sheaths raised, ready to strike the moment their master gave the order.

  “Uncle!” Xue Qinglian’s pupils contracted. He rushed forward, grabbing hold of the wheelchair. He stared at the man before him. “Feng Qingbai, I’m begging you—just this once—Pffft!”

  A surge of iron-sweet blood rushed violently up from his chest and sprayed out. Xue Qinglian clutched at the sudden, stabbing pain in his heart and slowly collapsed to his knees.

  It felt as if his tendons had snapped and his bones shattered. Pain spread from his heart through his entire body in an instant.

  The agony twisted his face; his whole body trembled uncontrollably, cold sweat soaking through his clothes in a breath.

  Using the last of his clarity, he lifted his head and met the man’s cold, emotionless eyes.