Bai Xingzhen, about twelve years old, stood in the shadows of the stable, his eyes still clear as crystal.
His youthful face was delicate, and he appeared especially small next to the towering Zhaolei, with a loosely fitting white mourning garment draped over his frame, adding to his frail appearance.
Bai Xingzhen pondered Chen Ji's words carefully: "Lord Duke fell ill at the age of three, suffering nightly from restless convulsions that made sleep elusive. The traveling Taoist only appeared two years later."
"Some people are very patient," Chen Ji leaned against the stable post, looking down at Bai Xingzhen, "The Imperial Physicians are well-versed, even if some illnesses are incurable, they generally know where a mistake was made. If even the Imperial Physicians cannot comprehend the ailment, it is most likely caused by Magic."
