Chapter 45
The afterglow of the setting sun bathed the right-wing camp in a dim yellow light. The sandstorm was fiercer than that on the main camp, swirling up dust and a faint, distant smell of burning.
The makeshift camp was surrounded by sharpened wooden stakes, and the soldiers on the watchtowers looked particularly vigilant in the twilight. Sheng Xuan and Xiao Qiyun, escorted by their personal guards, braved the sandstorm to arrive here.
As soon as Xiao Qiyun dismounted, he said gently to the commander of his personal guards, "I and Young Master Shengxuan are just taking a look around and observing the soldiers' hardships. You don't need to follow closely. You can go and find the commander of this place to learn about the defenses and the wounded, and then report back to me later."
His tone was calm and his reasons were sound. Although the commander of the personal guards had doubts, he dared not disobey. He bowed and accepted the order, leading his men toward the general's tent.
Sheng Xuan couldn't wait any longer. As soon as his guards left, he grabbed a passing cook, whose face was covered in soot, and asked urgently, "Where is the military doctor's tent? Lead the way!"
The cook was startled and pointed to a direction deep within the camp where the smell of medicine wafted and there was a lot of noise.
The two immediately walked quickly in that direction.
The closer you get, the stronger the smell of blood and bitter herbs in the air becomes, mixed with an indescribable, rotten yet slightly sweet and fishy odor—it's Gu poison!
Sheng Xuan's brows furrowed, and Xiao Qiyun's expression grew increasingly grave.
The medical tent was even more rudimentary than the main camp's, with dark brown stains on the canvas. Several stretchers lay haphazardly on the open ground by the entrance, with wounded soldiers groaning in pain on them.
Inside the tent, figures moved about, suppressed cries of pain mingled with the urgent commands of the medical officer.
Sheng Xuan and Xiao Qiyun squeezed to the tent entrance at almost the same time, their eyes eagerly scanning the dim and chaotic scene inside.
In the center of the tent, Su Zhelan was kneeling beside a stretcher. He was wearing a gray cloth outfit stained with blood and medicine, his hair tie was loose, and a few strands of hair were stuck to his forehead with sweat.
He kept his head down, completely focused, one hand firmly pressing down on a soldier's violently convulsing upper body, while the other hand was using a thin, long knife to precisely and quickly remove a patch of blackened, ulcerated flesh from the soldier's calf! Beneath that flesh, faint bluish-black lines could be seen writhing beneath the skin, a sign of the poison taking effect!
The soldier convulsed in pain, letting out a beast-like roar, but Su Zelan stuffed a cloth into his mouth, so he could only let out muffled whimpers.
Su Zhelan's forehead was covered in fine beads of sweat, which slid down his cheeks, gathered at his chin, and dripped onto the blood-stained cloth. His eyes, however, were unusually focused and calm, like two pieces of obsidian immersed in ice water. His hands moved quickly, accurately, and steadily, without the slightest tremor. Beside him, an old physician nervously handed him a medicine bottle and a cloth, barely daring to breathe.
Upon seeing this, Sheng Xuan's pupils constricted sharply, and he instinctively wanted to rush in to help restrain the struggling soldier: "Ze Lan! I'll help..."
"Don't move!" Xiao Qiyun suddenly reached out and grabbed Sheng Xuan's wrist. The force was so great that Sheng Xuan stopped in his tracks in pain.
Xiao Qiyun's voice was extremely low, carrying an undeniable sternness, but his gaze was fixed on Su Zhelan, "He's busy! Don't make things worse!"
Sheng Xuan was grabbed by him, feeling both anxious and angry. Just as he was about to retort, he noticed that Su Zhelan seemed completely unaware of the commotion at the door.
His entire focus was on the blade at his fingertips and the soldier's wound. Each cut precisely avoided the main blood vessels, and each removal was done with an almost ruthless efficiency.
Sheng Xuan looked at the beads of sweat on Su Zhelan's forehead and his blood-stained profile, and at the slightly tense lines of his back from exertion. His throat felt like it was blocked by something, and all his anxiety and worry were forcibly suppressed by that focused aura.
He broke free from Xiao Qiyun's grasp, but didn't rush forward. Instead, he paced anxiously for a couple of steps, his fists clenched tightly.
Xiao Qiyun also released his grip, looking at Su Zhelan inside the tent with a complicated expression.
He had seen Su Zhelan's docility in the Shuyu Courtyard, and his composure in the pharmacy, but he had never seen him so...sharp. Like a dagger drawn from its sheath, calmly cutting through life and death in a battlefield of blood and pain.
In this state, Su Zhelan exudes an aura that commands respect, making people hesitant to disturb her.
The two stood at the tent entrance like two silent statues, watching Su Zhelan finish treating the rotting flesh, quickly sprinkle on hemostatic powder, and then tightly wrap it with strips of cloth soaked in the medicine.
The whole process was smooth and effortless. Only when the soldier's convulsions gradually subsided and his breathing became steady did Su Zhelan straighten up, let out a long sigh, raise her hand to wipe the sweat from her forehead with her sleeve, revealing a tired but relaxed expression that showed she had completed her mission.
Only then did Su Zhelan seem to notice the burning gaze at the doorway.
He subconsciously turned his head to look, and when he saw Sheng Xuan and Xiao Qiyun standing in the dim twilight, he was obviously stunned for a moment. A look of surprise flashed across his blood-stained face, but it was quickly covered by his usual calm. However, beneath that calm, there seemed to be a trace of helplessness that was not easily noticed.
Seeing that Su Zhelan had finally finished her work, Sheng Xuan immediately wanted to go forward, but Xiao Qiyun stopped him again with a look. Xiao Qiyun shook his head slightly, indicating that it was not the right time yet.
Sheng Xuan, holding his breath, scratched his head in frustration. His gaze swept over the chaotic medical tent, and he suddenly grabbed a nearby auxiliary soldier who had just finished feeding water to a wounded soldier. He lowered his voice, his tone urgent and leaving no room for refusal: "Hey! Kid! Zhe Lan... that young doctor, which tent does he live in? Take me there!"
The auxiliary soldier was startled by his fierce appearance, and then looked at Xiao Qiyun, who had an extraordinary demeanor, and dared not be negligent. He pointed to a smaller and more inconspicuous gray tent in the corner of the camp: "It's... over there."
Upon receiving the news, Sheng Xuan turned around and strode towards the small tent without saying a word, his steps as fast as the wind.
Xiao Qiyun glanced at Su Zhelan, who was washing the blood off her hands inside the tent, and then at Sheng Xuan's hurried back. In the end, he didn't linger and turned to follow her.
The small tent stood alone at the edge of the camp, right next to a corner piled with miscellaneous items, even more rudimentary than the army doctor's tent. Sheng Xuan flung open the curtain and slipped inside, Xiao Qiyun following closely behind.
The tent was dimly lit, with only a small oil lamp emitting a faint light in the corner.
A thin layer of dry grass covered the ground, with a worn-out quilt on top. In the corner sat Su Zhelan's familiar medicine box, next to which were several neatly folded gray cloth clothes.
The air was filled with a faint scent of herbs and hay, and the rudimentary atmosphere made one's heart tighten.
Sheng Xuan looked around, his brows furrowing even more, and plopped down on the straw mat, which creaked softly.
He tugged at his collar in frustration, his gaze frequently drifting towards the tent entrance.
Xiao Qiyun stood quietly in the center of the tent, looking out of place in the small and simple space.
He didn't sit down, but instead looked down at Su Zhelan's medicine box on the ground, his fingertips unconsciously rubbing the edge of his sleeve. The light from the oil lamp cast flickering shadows on his face, making it impossible to see the emotions in his eyes.
The tent was silent except for the occasional crackling of the oil lamp and the faint groans of wounded soldiers and the footsteps of patrolling soldiers in the distance.
Neither of them spoke, and a subtle, anxious sense of waiting filled the air.
They were waiting for that figure, waiting for the one who had just fought through blood and pain and was about to return to this small place... the one who made them uneasy.
Night completely enveloped the right flank, and a few scattered torches flickered in the sandstorm, casting eerie shadows. The groans of wounded soldiers and the footsteps of patrolling soldiers in the distance sounded exceptionally clear in the silence.
Su Zhelan dragged her tired body, carrying a rough earthenware bowl containing a half-cold mixed grain porridge and a small piece of hard bread that had just been distributed by the kitchen, and walked towards her tent in the corner.
His gray cloth shorts were still stained with dried blood and medicine, his hair was soaked with sweat and stuck to his pale forehead, and his eyes were filled with a deep weariness.
After dealing with the wounded soldiers infected by the Bone-Eating Gu, he was completely exhausted. All he wanted to do was eat something and then go to sleep.
As he approached the tent, a soldier on night patrol rushed over and whispered, "Dr. Su! You're back! There are people waiting for you in the tent... the two who arrived this evening..."
Su Zhelan stopped abruptly, her fingers tightening instantly around the ceramic bowl until her knuckles turned white. The lukewarm paste inside sloshed around, almost spilling out.
Are they... still in his tent?
A strong emotion, a mixture of absurdity, exhaustion, and deep helplessness, suddenly surged into his heart, like a boulder blocking his chest, making it hard for him to breathe.
They've all hidden here! They've all come to this dangerous front line! How... how come we still can't shake them off?!
He stood outside the tent, gazing at the gray cloth curtain that emitted a faint light, and felt a deep sense of powerlessness wash over him.
The pale scar on the back of his neck seemed to be burning, reminding him of the past he didn't want to face and the inescapable reality of the present moment.
These two men, one with a mind as deep as the sea and the other as impulsive as fire, what exactly do they want? Did they chase him here because they think his life is too peaceful? Or do they think the stage in this military camp isn't big enough and they have to put him on stage for a show?
The dim yellow light inside the tent, at that moment, resembled the eyes of a wild beast, making him instinctively want to retreat.
Just then, a gust of cold wind carrying sand and gravel suddenly blew through, and a corner of the tent flap was lifted. Inside, Sheng Xuan muttered in a low voice, but still with a hint of impatience: "...This damn light is making my eyes dizzy! Why isn't Zhe Lan back yet? What is she dawdling about!"
Then came Xiao Qiyun's clear, yet subtly tense voice: "...Wait a little longer."
The voice was like a needle, piercing through Su Zelan's hesitation.
He took a deep breath, the cold air carrying sand and dust filling his lungs, bringing a stinging sensation, but also forcibly calming his chaotic thoughts.
He couldn't retreat. This was a military camp; they wouldn't dare cause any trouble here.
More importantly… a stronger sense of unease overwhelmed the helplessness and frustration—this was the right flank! Close to the front lines! Cult remnants lurked like venomous snakes in the shadows! With Sheng Xuan's reckless nature, and Xiao Qiyun… what if they ran into cult spies or stray arrows while running around here?! Did they think this was the General's mansion's back garden?!
Thinking of the potential dangers, Su Zhelan's heart sank. He gritted his teeth, no longer hesitating, and abruptly pulled back the tent flap!
The dim light of the oil lamp suddenly burst forth, illuminating his blood-stained and weary face.
Inside the tent, Sheng Xuan sat cross-legged on a straw mat. His figure, dressed in a black outfit, appeared exceptionally tall in the cramped space. He scratched his hair in frustration, but when he saw Su Zhelan enter, his eyes lit up instantly, and he was about to speak.
Xiao Qiyun stood in the center of the tent, his moon-white robe still spotless in the dim light. He turned around at the sound, his gentle gaze falling on Su Zhelan with a complex scrutiny.
Su Zhelan's gaze swept quickly across the two faces—Sheng Xuan's undisguised eagerness and a hint of embarrassment at being caught, and Xiao Qiyun's deep-seated inquiry and seemingly matter-of-fact calm demeanor.
A nameless anger, mixed with deep weariness and worry, suddenly surged into Su Zhelan's heart.
His fingers trembled slightly as he held the earthenware bowl, causing the paste inside to slosh around. He took a deep breath, forcing himself to suppress his surging emotions, his voice hoarse from the long journey and intense tension, with a deliberately restrained coldness:
"Your Highness, Second Young Master Sheng." He nodded slightly as a greeting, his movements somewhat stiff. "This place is the front line of the military camp. Being close to the front, remnants of the cult frequently appear. Stray arrows have no eyes, making it extremely dangerous. Given your high status, it is not appropriate for you two to linger here. May I ask... what important matter brings you here so late at night?"
His tone was calm, yet it was as if it were wrapped in ice shards; every word conveyed the subtext, "It's dangerous here, you should leave immediately."
He stood at the doorway, showing no intention of going inside. His shadow was stretched long behind him by the light of the oil lamp, conveying a silent resistance and alienation.
The air inside the tent seemed to freeze instantly. The flame of the oil lamp flickered uneasily, casting the three men's shadows onto the simple canvas tent, twisting and swaying like their complex and unspeakable emotions.
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