The journey to Zhuiya was surprisingly smooth, with none of the expected disturbances along the way—but that in itself was unnerving. The closer they got to the border city, the stronger the feeling that they were walking straight into a trap, yet there was no other way except to continue pressing forward.

"We're here," Zhenghuan announced.

Zi-ning lifted the curtain of her carriage. The Zhuiya city walls had come into view, the neat grey stone creating an illusion of peace and stillness that hid the rot that taken hold within. Along their journey, Zhenghuan had received daily reports from his scouts about the situation in the city, and each one was worse than the one before. Zi-ning almost expected to be arriving to a dead city, so the presence of the two measly guards standing in front of the towering wooden gates was a relief. Both of them had cloths tied around their mouths and noses, to protect them from whatever was ailing the city.

"Stop. Turn around," one of the guards said, "the city is under lockdown. No one is allowed to enter or leave."

Zhenghuan held out the golden token that the king had given him. "We are here under orders from His Majesty. The king has sent the imperial physicians here to offer aid to the city's residents. Let us in."

The guard took one look at the token and gulped, quickly stepping aside. "Shadow Lord, forgive me," he apologised. Turning around, he shouted some instructions and the heavy doors to the city slowly creaked open.

All at once, the entourage was accosted by a horrendous stench that smelled like a mix of death and decay.

"What is that vile odour?" one of the imperial physicians called out. Several heads popped out through the carriage windows, peering curiously around. Before they could get an answer, a loud shout from within the city left them all reeling with alarm.

"The gates are open! The gates are open!"

A stampede of footsteps could be heard pounding the dirt, and a mass of heads began swarming towards the gates—and the entourage.

"Stand back! All of you get back! No one is allowed to leave. Go back to your homes!" the city guards barked. They quickly shifted out a row of wooden barricades with sharp spikes that would impale anyone who dared climb over.

The people slowed, stopping in front of the barricade.

"Let us out! Why are we being locked in the city? If we continue to stay here, all of us are going to die!"

"You barbarians are trying to send us to our deaths! There are women and children in here. How could you do this to us?"

"Open the gates and let us go! Or else we'll burn down this barricade!"

Anger and desperation raged from the voices and faces of the people of Zhuiya. Mothers carried their children in their arms, and men supported their elderly parents, all of them carrying bundles of their belongings, looking as though they had been preparing to escape for a long while. Despite their threats and aggression, Zi-ning felt nothing but sympathy for these people. No one wanted to die, nor did they want to watch their loved ones die, knowing that there was nothing they could do.

The soldiers of Zhenghuan's Shadow Army formed a row in front of the carriages, readying themselves in defensive position.

Zhenghuan held out his hand, signalling to them to not take action. He cajoled his horse a few steps forward.

"Residents of Zhuiya, I am the Shadow Lord," he said, his voice echoing loud and clear.

Immediately, a silence fell upon the crowd. Everyone had their eyes on Zhenghuan.

"The king has heard of the plight that has struck Zhuiya, and I have been sent to escort the imperial physicians here to provide help," he continued, gesturing towards the carriages. "I implore you to return to your homes and clear the path, so that the physicians may enter the city and get to work. Once a cure has been determined, we will begin treatment immediately."

Doubtful whispers went around.

"How do we know you're telling the truth? If you mean no harm, then why can't you just open the gates and let those who want to leave go?" someone shouted.

"Because we are still uncertain of the cause of the illness that plagues the city. If it is contagious, then we would not want it to spread beyond Zhuiya."

"See? They don't care about us! They only want to protect people in the other cities!"

The crowd immediately went up in arms, and people began to swarm towards the barricades again. Zi-ning saw the alarm and fear in the eyes of the city guards, as their fingers tightened around the wooden handles of their spears.

If the people continue to force their way through, the guards will break. People will end up getting hurt.

Zi-ning stepped out of the carriage. "Everyone, listen to me. We are here to help. Once we have a cure and the sick receive treatment, then conditions in the city will improve. If you head to another city now and fall ill there, it might be too late for you to return to seek help then," she said.

There were some murmurs of agreement, although many still looked unconvinced.

"What if you can't find a cure? Have you seen what this plague does? People are vomiting worms! This is a punishment from the gods! There is no cure!"

"Yes there is. Every illness has a cure," Zi-ning answered. "Trust me. I have cured a similar illness before. Although I cannot determine whether the situation at Zhuiya is identical, please be assured that the imperial physicians and I will try our best to resolve matters as quickly as we can."

"Why should we trust you? What if you're lying to us?"

"She's a liar! The imperial court wants us to die in here! Everyone, let's fight our way out of this hell!" someone yelled.

Something hurtled through the air—a clay jar—and headed straight for Zi-ning. She instinctively shut her eyes and raised her arm to her face to shield herself from the impact, but said impact never came.

There was a loud crash as the jar shattered, landing on the ground in broken fragments.

Zi-ning's eyes flew open. Zhenghuan was standing in front of her, his broad silhouette protecting her from the angry mob. The jar had struck the back of his head, and a thin sliver of blood was trickling down his neck.

"Zhenghuan!" she cried, rushing forward.

He shook his head. "I'm fine," he said. "Go back into the carriage. The people are too agitated to listen to reason. I'll have my men send them back to their homes."

Zi-ning bit down on her lower lip, contemplating his words. Then she stepped out from his shadow, gently nudging him to the side. "I know that you have no reason to trust me, but I hope you will give us a chance anyhow. Seven days. All I ask of you is seven days. If we are unable to find a cure by the end of the week, then we will open the gates and allow you to leave if you wish," she said.

The crowd hesitated, still eyeing Zi-ning with suspicion. Zhenghuan turned to face them, holding out the gold token that the king had given to him. "This token represents the King of Duan. On His Majesty's word, I—the Shadow Lord—will personally ensure that these gates are open at the end of seven days, should we be unable to find a solution to help the people of Zhuiya."

A pause.

"Fine, we will give you seven days. No more," a voice called out.

Zi-ning exchanged a glance with Zhenghuan, both of them knowing the severity of the task that lay ahead.

Seven days.

#

They stood in front of a row of corpses at the morgue, all recent deaths from the mysterious illness plaguing the town. Zhenghuan would have preferred for Zi-ning to sit out of this and let the imperial physicians conduct the autopsies, but she refused. She was the one who gave the word that they would find a solution within seven days, so she should take responsibility for it.

But the outcome of the autopsy was a worrying one.

Based on the initial reports of the situation, they had believed that the illness in Zhuiya was identical to what the crown prince had been afflicted by. Upon close inspection, the truth turned out to be slightly different. Although the symptoms were highly similar, with victims experiencing severe vomiting with the presence of worm-like creatures in their excrement, the worms in question were not exactly the same. The ones affecting the residents of Zhuiya were more aggressive, causing the illness to progress at a faster rate, and resulting in additional symptoms such as haemorrhaging of the brain. Several of the corpses had signs of bleeding from their orifices, making for a grisly sight. This was likely to be a form of gu-du, a vicious type of poison used by the shamans of the southern tribes to inflict a torturous death upon their victims.

Zi-ning leaned against the doorframe, pausing to catch her breath. Things were far worse than she expected.

"Do you think Old Hu's method will work this time?" Zhenghuan asked, stepping out to join her. He gently supported her by the elbow, leading her away from the morgue.

She shook her head. "I'm not sure," she said. "This looks like another form of the gu-du, so technically the method should work. As long as we are able to force out the worms infecting the victims, then they should recover. Except..."

"Except what?"

"The version of the gu-du that has infected Zhuiya is significantly more aggressive. The worms might not be expelled so easily. The needle technique imparted by Old Hu is risky, so if something goes wrong during the procedure, there is a chance that the patient will die."

Zhenghuan frowned, pondering upon her words. "Even if the needle technique works, it won't be feasible to apply it to every single infected person in the city, considering you still need time to impart the technique to the imperial physicians, and not all of them might be able to master it in time," he mused. "If we are certain that this is a form of gu-du, is there any other way we could force the worms out of the bodies of those infected?"

Zi-ning pulled out the manual that the River Immortal had given her, flipping to one of its pages. "This prescription might work," she said. She had been studying the book cover to cover throughout their journey, and this was the only method that seemed plausible. "It is a very antagonistic prescription though, and the patients may suffer from serious side-effects after taking it." It was also very difficult to brew, requiring ten different rare herbs and a twenty-step method to prepare. If anything went wrong at any step, death would come to the patient sooner rather than later.

With Ru-quan's condition, she had been fairly confident of success, but this time she was not so certain. Did she dare risk the lives of innocent citizens solely on the basis of her own conjectures?

Zhenghuan skimmed through the page that she pointed out, the furrows across his forehead deepening. Then he lifted his head and said, "Test it on me first."

Zi-ning stared at him in disbelief. "What did you say?" she asked.

"I said, we'll test the prescription on me first. If it works, then we'll get the physicians to administer it on a larger scale."

"No! That's far too risky. What if it doesn't work?" she exclaimed.

Testing the prescription on Zhenghuan meant that he would first need to infect himself with the gu-du, which was unnecessarily risky in itself. If the prescription failed—he would die; and even if it did work, who was to say what side effects he would have to suffer for the rest of his life?

"If it doesn't work, then I'm prepared to die. That is the mandate of a general," Zhenghuan replied, without even flinching in the slightest. He placed his hands on her shoulders, his steely gaze meeting hers. "But that's not going to happen. It will work. I trust you."

Zi-ning's heart wrenched, a bout of fear suddenly taking hold of her. She had not been frightened when she made her attempt to save Ru-quan's life, knowing that failure would lead to her own execution. She had not been frightened when she volunteered to come to Zhuiya, to the middle of a deadly infestation from which there could be no return. She thought that nothing could frighten her anymore, after the terrors she had experienced in her previous life.

Yet now she was running scared.

But what if I'm not prepared to let you die, Du Zhenghuan?