Listening-Waves Courtyard, Quiet Chamber.
Unlike the solemn, imposing atmosphere of the main palace, the courtyard was tranquil and serene.
Yet at this moment, the master bedroom was filled with the thick scent of medicinal herbs and the heavy aura of death.
The once awe-inspiring King of West Lucozia, Rufus Rhys, now lay on the bed, gaunt like a skeleton. His once-thick white hair clung sparsely to his forehead. His complexion was a morbid gray, his eyes sunken, his breath so faint it was almost imperceptible—his life’s flame on the verge of going out.
His consort, Elara, sat by the bedside, gently wiping his thin hand with a warm towel. Her eyes were red and swollen, tears not yet dry.
Several elderly imperial physicians stood nearby, all shaking their heads with helpless sighs.
The king’s body was already like an oil lamp with no fuel—no medicine could save him.
“Father! Mother!”
Thorian burst into the room like a whirlwind, ignoring the dust all over him and all etiquette.
“Thorian? You… why are you—” Elara was shocked, and even more heartbroken.
Thorian didn’t explain. He rushed to the bed and opened the jade box.
“Quick! Mother, give this pill to Father!”
The moment the jade box opened, a pure, gentle fragrance—filled with surging vitality—instantly washed away the stale deathly aura in the room, invigorating everyone present.
“This… this is?”
Elara and the elderly physicians were stunned. They had never seen a pill brimming with such overwhelming life force.
“This is an Immortal Essence Pill! It can save Father’s life—there’s no time to waste!”
Seeing Thorian’s grave expression, Elara gritted her teeth and no longer hesitated.
She carefully lifted Rufus Rhys’s weightless head and gently placed the milky-white pill between his cracked lips.
The moment the pill entered, without even needing to swallow, it dissolved into a warm, gentle current—like early spring waters thawing ice—quietly flowing through his withered meridians, soaking into his nearly lifeless organs, nourishing his nearly extinguished life source.
Everyone held their breath, staring at Rufus Rhys.
At first, nothing changed.
But moments later, a miracle happened.
His deathly gray complexion slowly gained visible color—like parched earth revived by spring rain.
His sunken eyes seemed to fill out again, regaining fullness. His nearly-stopped breathing grew deeper, steadier, and stronger. His chest rose and fell with renewed vigor.
Even more shocking—his shriveled muscles subtly tightened, his blue veins throbbed with power once more, and a robust vitality—something only a man in his prime possessed—began awakening from deep within him.
Before a single incense stick burned out, under everyone’s stunned gaze, Rufus Rhys’s tightly-shut eyes trembled and suddenly opened.
They were eyes once sharp as an eagle’s—domineering, incisive.
Though briefly dazed, they quickly regained clarity and commanding spirit.
He instinctively moved his arm, sensing the long-lost power in his body, the unmistakable vigor of returning to peak condition.
“I… came back to life?”
Rufus Rhys looked down at his own body in disbelief.
“Your Majesty!”
“Father!”
Elara and Thorian cried with joy as they rushed to his bedside.
Elara hugged her husband tightly, unable to speak through her sobbing.
The servants and physicians knelt, shouting in excitement:
“The King is blessed by heaven! A miracle! A miracle!”
“Thorian,” Rufus Rhys said with delight, “tell me—where did this pill come from?”
He had thought he was about to die, yet after taking the pill, he felt reborn.
“T-This… this was gifted by a reclusive master.”
Thorian stammered, “That master admired Father’s lifelong service to the nation and sought out an immortal pill for him.”
“A reclusive master?”
Rufus Rhys narrowed his eyes at him.
“Thorian, you still can’t lie in front of me without panicking. Speak honestly—who gave it to me? This is a life-saving grace; I must repay it.”
“All right, fine, I won’t hide it…”
Unable to withstand his father’s stare, Thorian surrendered.
“It was my big brother who brought it all the way here. But he told me not to tell you.”
“Logan?”
Rufus Rhys froze—then burst into loud laughter.
“Hahaha! That brat! So he hasn’t forgotten about his old man! Good! Very good!”
He was stunned that his eldest son could obtain such a pill—and thrilled that Logan Rhys apparently no longer held a grudge.
Though he didn’t come in person, the gesture said enough. There would be time to mend things.
…
Top of the highest watchtower in the West Lucozia King’s Residence.
Dustin stood with his hands behind his back, the night wind brushing his robes.
With his cultivation, even from such a distance, everything happening in the quiet chamber was clear to him.
He watched as his father laughed heartily, as his once-broken body stood firm again, as his brows relaxed with a joy that made him seem ten years younger.
A long-tense string in Dustin’s heart finally loosened.
The next moment, his figure swayed, merging into the cool night breeze—disappearing silently from the tower’s peak without disturbing anyone. - Marinien
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