Chapter 9

Chapter 9: Ning Wen Gui

With the phoenix-blood spirit core clarified, the rest of the list was manageable.

Lin Zhao considered her options and decided to go to the auction house in the imperial capital of You Lan Empire—both to gather herbs and to meet an old friend.

The Lin Family city bordered You Lan’s imperial capital.

Even though the four great empires’ top talents had been absorbed into the sects in recent years, the empires still used immense wealth to support a group of guest elder experts. They remained a first-rate power and could not be underestimated.

The Lin Family, though a noble house, maintained a careful stance toward You Lan: befriend, don’t offend.

The imperial capital’s auction house was controlled by the Ning Imperial House.

When Lin Zhao reached the Crown Prince’s residence, she hesitated briefly at the gate, considering how to announce herself.

Before she could, the gates opened.

An old man with a troubled face walked out, shaking his head. A middle-aged steward followed behind him, as if trying to stop him.

“Master Huo,” the steward urged, voice tense, “could you take another look? His Highness truly—”

As the gates opened, onlookers gathered immediately. The steward’s mouth snapped shut. He bowed deeply, sending the old man away, then waved the gatekeepers to close the doors again.

Lin Zhao stepped forward. “Steward Wang, please wait.”

The steward frowned, studying the maiden calling him so familiarly. Her clothes were refined, her aura steady, but he couldn’t place her face at first. He had seen every noble daughter in the imperial capital these years—he had never heard of this one.

Lin Zhao spoke calmly. “I am Lin Zhao of the Lin Family. I came to speak with His Highness, the Crown Prince.”

Recognition dawned.

Steward Wang’s expression changed instantly. He hurried to welcome her in, face bright with forced warmth. “So it’s Third Miss Lin! This servant had eyes but failed to see. You came at the perfect time—His Highness is in the study!”

When Lin Zhao was young, she had grown up among the imperial capital’s great families’ children.

Later, when Yao Chi Sacred Land fostered the Holy Son in the Lin Family, Shen Yu Han had refused to let Lin Zhao mingle with her peers again. His possessiveness had been obvious to anyone with eyes.

In the past, Steward Wang would never have dared to let Lin Zhao meet the Crown Prince alone.

But news of the wedding day had spread like fire. Holy Son Shen abandoning Lin Zhao for Chen Luo Luo was already the cultivation world’s newest gossip.

So Steward Wang lowered his guard, smile widening as he led her toward the study.

“If His Highness knows Third Miss Lin is here,” he said, “he’ll be happy for days.”

Lin Zhao heard the cheer in his voice, yet she also saw the worry lingering between his brows.

The reason became clear the moment she stepped into the study.

Ning Wen Gui, Crown Prince of You Lan, inherited his mother’s beauty. Silver hair spilled like a waterfall over his shoulders, gleaming in the light. His violet eyes were clear as glass, setting off features refined enough to look unreal.

In looks alone, among Lin Zhao’s peers, only Su Bai and Shen Yu Han could compare.

But unlike Su Bai’s sharp, androgynous beauty, and unlike Shen Yu Han’s wild, unrestrained aura, Ning Wen Gui looked like a porcelain doll—delicate, pale, and too easily broken.

He smiled when he saw her.

But he didn’t rise.

Lin Zhao’s gaze dropped.

A wheelchair.

Her throat tightened. “This is…?”

Steward Wang let out a heavy sigh. “Three years ago, during the royal hunt at the Imperial Hunting Park, a crazed fifth-rank spirit beast appeared for unknown reasons. His Highness was injured badly in the legs while saving the Emperor Lord.”

His voice turned bitter.

“We don’t know how to cure it. That would be bad enough, but His Highness was injured for the Emperor Lord—and yet the Emperor Lord now wants to replace him, saying the heir cannot be disabled.”

A meaningful glint flickered through Lin Zhao’s eyes.

The Lin Family city wasn’t directly ruled by You Lan; it was like its own state. Still, the Lin Family’s main house lay within You Lan Empire. A succession shake-up would inevitably affect the Lin Family.

Steward Wang speaking so plainly before her wasn’t carelessness.

It was a plea.

Lin Zhao understood.

After all, Ning Wen Gui’s birth mother—the Night Empress—had been close to the Lin Family. Traced properly, Lin Zhao would have to call her a cousin-aunt.

If You Lan’s heir became someone with no ties to the Lin Family, who knew whether friendship would remain?

Lin Zhao’s gaze sharpened. “Do we know whom His Majesty intends to name as heir?”

Steward Wang answered quickly, ignoring the sharp look Ning Wen Gui shot him.

“The Second Imperial Prince of Noble Consort Zhao.”

Lin Zhao was about to step closer and examine Ning Wen Gui’s legs when a voice stirred in her sea of consciousness.

“Hm?”

Lin Zhao’s eyes flickered.

“Master,” she asked inwardly, “what’s wrong with the Crown Prince’s legs?”

Granny’s voice came back crisp and certain.

“His legs aren’t injured,” Granny said. “He’s poisoned.”

Lin Zhao’s breath hitched.

Before she could stop herself, the word escaped her lips aloud.

“Poisoned?”

Steward Wang and Ning Wen Gui both froze.

Lin Zhao didn’t look away. She repeated what Granny told her, carefully, keeping her voice controlled.

“Calling it poison isn’t quite right,” she said. “It’s a poisonous miasma. It’s plundering his life force for the one who planted it. Losing the use of his legs is only the first symptom.”

Her eyes hardened.

“If it isn’t cleared, he’ll die. At most three years. At least a few months.”

Steward Wang’s face twisted with rage. “It must be Noble Consort Zhao’s people! They took advantage of His Highness being badly wounded and off guard to plant this!”

In her sea of consciousness, Granny clicked its tongue.

“Ask him,” Granny said. “Was the beast that attacked him a python-type spirit beast?”

Lin Zhao turned back to Ning Wen Gui. “At the royal hunt… was the fifth-rank spirit beast a python-type spirit beast?”

Ning Wen Gui’s fingers tightened around the rim of a pale yellow flowerpot on his desk. He nodded slowly, voice low.

“It was a fifth-rank spirit beast,” he said. “The Nether Python.”

“As expected,” Granny chuckled inside Lin Zhao’s mind.

Lin Zhao’s heart surged.

“Master,” she asked inwardly, “do you have a way to deal with this miasma?”

“Of course,” Granny said smugly. Then it paused, tone turning suspiciously amused. “But why should Granny deal with it? Is this brat your old flame?”

Lin Zhao almost choked. “Don’t joke,” she said inwardly, then added honestly, “the Lin Family is declining. If You Lan’s heir position is taken by someone else, the Lin Family will face trouble from within and without.”

“So that’s it,” Granny said, sounding disappointed for all of half a breath. Then it laughed again. “I thought he was your old flame.”

Granny’s tone turned shamelessly delighted.

“But you’re lucky. Every man you meet is outstanding. That Su Bai is a peerless genius—fine. This Crown Prince also has something interesting.” Granny’s laughter deepened. “Purple pupils, a glass body… Granny thought it only existed in legend. That physique—dual cultivation is unmatched.”

Lin Zhao’s eyelid twitched. “Master,” she said inwardly, pushing hard past the nonsense, “if you can help, please act quickly.”

“Who said Granny can save him?” Granny replied, maddeningly calm. “Granny is only a lingering soul now. I have no body—I can’t save this brat.”

Then it delivered the final blow, light as a feather.

“Only you can save him.”

Lin Zhao went still.

“Me?”