His silhouette grew blurrier still.

Feng Jiu’er tried to lift her hand — but the man’s inner force had already ravaged her internal organs, and even her meridians had sustained damage. At this point, even moving a single finger required immense effort, let alone raising her arm to grasp anything.

Her meridians had been nearly destroyed. Yet the man had left some margin — he had not shattered her channels entirely.

It could be healed — but the process would be extraordinarily difficult.

All at once, it dawned on her what he was truly wagering on.

Strangely, she felt no fear. Even in despair, there was no fear — having already been wounded to this extent, what more was there to be afraid of?

Yet in this moment, Feng Jiu’er was suddenly seized by a terror unlike any she had known.

Afraid. Genuinely afraid.

She did not want to wager. She refused to wager. She could not let this wager take place.

Ninth Imperial Uncle — don’t come. You must not come. Please, whatever you do, don’t come…

She was lifted up. The moment she left the ground, she coughed twice, and two more mouthfuls of blood came up.

Her whole being was heavy and dazed — the strength in her limbs was entirely gone. Like someone teetering on the edge of death, she was simply carried along as the man walked deeper into the forest.

At last, the black-robed man dropped her on the ground and retreated swiftly to a distance of several yards.

A figure in white robes drifted into view — but the black-robed man had already vanished without a trace.

Zhan Qingcheng had sensed the departing presence. But with Feng Jiu’er wounded so gravely, how could he give chase?

“Jiu’er!” He swept the dying woman up from the ground and pulled her into his arms. When he saw the blood flowing ceaselessly from the corner of her lips, a sharp, stabbing pain jolted through his chest.

A pain like a blunt instrument hammering against his heart — not any one specific place, but everywhere, all at once. His entire heart was being crushed by a heavy, relentless ache.

Zhan Qingcheng took her hand in his, without a moment’s hesitation, and began channeling his inner force into her body in a steady, unbroken stream.

Different from simply transferring energy — what he was doing this time was circulating his own vital energy through her body, letting it travel through her meridians and then drawing it back into himself.

Then again, a second pass. His vital energy moved through her again — and then a third, a fourth…

Feng Jiu’er finally understood what it meant to channel inner force to heal. So this was how it was done.

But this — how much of his own life force would it cost him?

“Ninth… Imperial Uncle… cough…”

The cough brought another mouthful of blood. She lay pale and colorless, every last drop of color gone from her small face.

“Don’t speak. While this Prince is here, nothing will happen to you. Be good — close your eyes and rest.”

Zhan Qingcheng drew her against him, still holding her hand tightly, still pouring his vital energy into her without pause.

It was as though he were washing her meridians clean from the inside — drawing the corrupted energy back into his own body to be purified within him.

Then sending it back into her again, to cleanse her injured channels one more time…

“No… don’t do this…” Feng Jiu’er tried to shake her head, but she no longer had the strength even for that.

Soon, someone else arrived — Mu Mu.

“Jiu’er!” Seeing Feng Jiu’er soaked in blood, Mu Mu dropped to one knee beside her and took her other hand in his.

A light touch at her pulse — even without any knowledge of medicine, he knew at once that this girl’s entire network of meridians had been devastated.

Damn it all — who had struck her down so savagely?

He moved to channel his own vital energy into her — but the moment it entered her body, it collided immediately with the Ninth Prince’s energy.

Mu Mu’s heart lurched in alarm. He pulled his energy back as quickly as he could.

Looking again at Zhan Qingcheng — his face had turned white, and it was plain that his condition was far from good.

Seeing Zhan Qingcheng’s face growing paler with every passing moment, Jiu’er felt a wrenching ache tear through her.

“Ninth Imperial Uncle — stop… please stop. You’ll… you’ll lose your life doing this!”