Li Shuang penned a letter, instructing her generals to lead their troops back to the capital.
The generals who received the message were concerned for Li Shuang’s safety and were reluctant to leave. They ascended the Five Spirits Gate together to meet her. Upon noticing the wound on her neck, several generals became enraged. Having fought alongside the Grand Marshal for years, they considered themselves Li Shuang’s half-uncles. Despite her attempts to appease them, Fu Changqing refused to depart.
“General, I must be frank,” Fu Changqing said. “When we set out, the Grand Marshal implored us to protect you. Now that you’re in danger, we cannot—”
“It’s nothing serious,” Li Shuang interrupted, rubbing her temples. “This wound was merely an accident.”
“An accident? Do you take me for a fool? The injury is severe, affecting your throat and leaving your voice hoarse. Whoever did this intended to kill!”
Fu Changqing deliberately raised his voice, hoping to embarrass the Five Spirits Gate members. Li Shuang’s first instinct was to glance at Jin’an’s quarters. Though distant, Jin’an’s exceptional hearing might have caught their conversation.
Sighing, Li Shuang said, “General Fu, matters here are nearly resolved. I’ve rescued those who needed saving; this injury was accidental. I’ll rejoin the main force and return to the capital in two days. If you’re concerned, leave a thousand elite cavalry here…”
Before she could finish, Qin Lan interjected, “I volunteer to stay and guard the general.”
As Li Shuang’s guard, Qin Lan was known for his courage and martial prowess. Though Fu Changqing and the other generals still harbored doubts, they respected Li Shuang’s insistence and departed down the mountain.
As they left, Li Shuang breathed a sigh of relief. Qin Lan, however, asked, “Was it the man in black who injured your neck, General?”
Li Shuang was taken aback. “Why do you ask?”
Qin Lan avoided her gaze, staring into the distance with a neutral expression. “It’s nothing… I just thought only someone you’d fiercely protect could have harmed you.”
Spotting Wu Yin heading towards Jin’an’s quarters, Li Shuang’s attention was drawn away. As she turned to follow, she absently replied, “He was simply confused at the time. Find yourself a room to stay in; we’ll set out in two days.”
With that, she walked away, leaving Qin Lan to examine his hands. The journey from the capital had left rope burns and cracked, bloodied skin at his palms—a reflection of his inner turmoil.
Unaware of Qin Lan’s emotions, Li Shuang returned to find Wu Yin standing by Jin’an’s bedside, his brow furrowed.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“See for yourself,” Wu Yin stepped aside, revealing Jin’an’s bare chest. The flame-like mark pulsed and shifted, sometimes spreading across his face, other times shrinking to a tiny spot. The red pattern writhed beneath his skin like restless insects.
Li Shuang frowned. “What’s happening to him?”
“I don’t know,” Wu Yin replied, arms crossed. “His pulse was unstable earlier, but it didn’t seem serious. I sent him to rest. Someone heard him groaning and alerted me. This is what I found.”
As if on cue, Jin’an let out a low moan, his body curling up in apparent agony.
Li Shuang’s heart ached. She sat beside him, cradling his head in her lap and gently wiping the sweat from his brow. “Isn’t the Jade Silkworm your sect’s greatest treasure? Find out why this is happening to him.”
Wu Yin sighed. “You’re asking the impossible, General. He’s unlike any previous host. I have no reference materials to work with. Although,” he paused, tapping his forehead, “this does resemble the rejection phase when the parasite first enters a host. But that usually only occurs immediately after implantation.”
As dusk fell, Jin’an’s condition worsened. The flame pattern expanded beyond his neck, covering his entire body before rapidly shrinking again. His body shook violently, fingers swelling and his body growing larger.
Jin’an clenched his jaw, seemingly enduring soul-shattering pain. Li Shuang, sitting close, could almost hear his teeth grinding together.
Wu Yin’s expression grew serious. “Bring the steel chains!” he called out.
Li Shuang glanced at Wu Yin, not objecting. “Chain us together,” she said.
“General, this is no joking matter,” Wu Yin warned.
“I’m not joking,” Li Shuang insisted, cradling Jin’an’s head. By now, he had transformed into an adult man, wearing only loose pants. He gritted his teeth, emitting beast-like growls.
She wasn’t joking—she trusted Jin’an wouldn’t harm her, but feared he might lose control and vanish without containment.
As someone brought the chains, Qin Lan entered, freezing at the sight before him.
Jin’an’s appearance was truly terrifying, like a mythical monster. The red patterns on his body constantly expanded and contracted. Suddenly, his eyes snapped open—one blood-red, the other pitch-black.
Li Shuang took the chains, intending to bind herself to Jin’an. As she secured his hand, before she could lock her wrist, Qin Lan rushed forward and grabbed her arm.
“General, you—”
Before he could finish, Jin’an’s free hand lashed out, striking Qin Lan squarely in the chest. Li Shuang couldn’t react in time to stop him.
The impact sent Qin Lan stumbling backward, crashing into a table. He coughed up blood as he fell.
Realizing the danger, Wu Yin shouted, “Everyone, flee down the mountain!”
As he spoke, he felt a searing heat at his nape—Jin’an had grabbed him. Wu Yin narrowly dodged, while Li Shuang quickly locked the chain around her wrist, yanking Jin’an back as he attempted to pursue.
Wu Yin escaped the room, leaving Jin’an sprawled atop Li Shuang.
His eyes shifted colors rapidly, but his gaze remained fixed on Li Shuang. He lay there, breathing heavily, motionless save for his labored breaths.
“Jin’an,” Li Shuang called softly, hoping to calm him as she had in the dungeon.
He didn’t respond, but when Qin Lan stirred, attempting to stand, Jin’an’s head snapped towards the sound. The red markings crawled chaotically across his face as his teeth gnashed, poised to lunge at Qin Lan’s throat.
“Calm down,” Li Shuang urged.
Jin’an remained still, but Qin Lan, clutching his chest, said, “General, unchain yourself. I’ll hold him off while you escape.”
At these words, Jin’an’s eyes blazed crimson. He surged forward, dragging Li Shuang with him as he moved to attack Qin Lan. Li Shuang, gritting her teeth against the pain of the chain cutting into her wrist, managed to restrain Jin’an, pinning him against the wall.
“Leave!” she commanded Qin Lan.
Qin Lan saw blood trickling from Li Shuang’s wrist. He clenched his jaw, torn, as Wu Yin returned and forcibly dragged him out. “When I say go, you go!” Wu Yin insisted.
Qin Lan, unable to tear his gaze away, looked back anxiously.
Inside, Jin’an struggled to pursue, but Li Shuang held firm, wrapping her arms around his waist and meeting his gaze. She rose on her toes and pressed her lips to his.
Li Shuang closed her eyes tightly. Though inexperienced, she knew how to share her breath with Jin’an. She licked his dry lips, then parted them gently.
His body burned with fever, making her dizzy. She pressed against him, pinning him to the wall corner, refusing to let him move even an inch.
Jin’an’s restless muscles and shifting red markings seemed to calm under her touch. He yielded to her kiss, accepting her increasingly deep and soothing embrace.
His tense body gradually relaxed. His eyes half-closed, he appeared like someone on the verge of waking from a drunken stupor.
One of Jin’an’s hands remained bound to Li Shuang’s, while the other, as if by instinct, caressed her face. He cradled her jaw, tilting her head to a more comfortable angle.
Then he closed his eyes, focusing solely on the warmth between them. Nothing else mattered—not the color of his eyes, the patterns on his skin, or the people outside. He surrendered completely to her and her kiss.