The following morning, the Ling mansion woke with discontent. The Regent's men left behind rumors, and all the servants spoke nothing but of them.
But Ling Yue quietly escaped, covered in a simple cloak. If she was going to rebuild her strength, she required herbs, not silks; solitude, not hollow praise.
The capital's market streets were thronged, with yelling hawkers and clattering wagons. Roasted chestnuts mixed with horse manure and smoke filled the air. Ling Yue walked with habitual serenity, watching without being noticed.
Her fingers brushed against packages of dried ginseng, astragalus roots, and bitter wormwood. She took only what she needed, her thoughts already formulating recipes. Despite being weakened, her mind as the Immortal Lord was still intact.
But just as she could depart, a high-pitched cry cut through the marketplace.
"Help! Someone help!"
The crowd undulated. A boy had fallen close to the well, face white, lips blue. His mother screamed beside him, shaking his bony shoulders. "He was well this morning! Someone, please—he can't breathe!"
The onlookers stepped back, murmuring. "It's the fever moving through the northern quarter."
"Be careful—if you touch him, you'll get it!"
The guards too turned their faces away, not willing to get involved.
Ling Yue's eyes narrowed. Fever that set in this swiftly, with lips blue and breathing shallow—it was no ordinary sickness. A toxic poison was involved.
She moved forward.
The mother lifted her eyes in desperation as Ling Yue knelt next to the child. "Please—you'll save him? I'll do anything—"
Ling Yue quieted her with a soft word. "No payment is necessary."
She leaned her fingers against the boy's pulse. Unstable, weak, but still holding on. Her palm softly glowed as she threaded a strand of spiritual energy through his meridians. The mob gasped, some recoiling in fear, others leaning forward in wonder.
The child shivered, his skin flushing and the black haze disappearing from his lips. He coughed once, and then drew in a ragged but steady breath.
The mother wept, holding him tightly. "Miracle! A miracle!"
The murmurings went about like wildfire. "Did you see? She cured him with light!"
"Is she an immortal vagabond?"
"No… but the Regent needs to know of this—"
Ling Yue rose, wrapping her cloak around her shoulders. She did not linger for thanks or queries. Rather, she melted back into the crowd, becoming one with the shadows.
Behind her, already started the whispers in the streets—of a woman whose powers could heal what was incurable.
And in the corridors of power, rumors spread far.