Chapter 101: Born to Never See the Sun

When Chu Tianshu and the others set out, each rode light horses at speed.

On their return, the large convoy of carts and horses inevitably moved much slower.

Only by afternoon did the group finally reenter Wang Cheng.

Zheng Hui’s steward seemed to have been waiting already; as soon as they entered the city, he hurried over and whispered to Zheng Hui’s side.

Yet his method of lowering his voice meant nothing to Chu Tianshu, who stood within three zhang.

“My lord, someone has come bearing the token you once gave General Wei Gao.”

Zheng Hui took a slip of paper from the steward’s hand.

It was a small gilded note, bearing only a single line of verse.

Fear not the road ahead with no true friends—throughout the land, who does not know you?

Zheng Hui rubbed the paper with his fingertip and knew at once it was one of the small notes he had personally made years ago; the script, too, was his own left-hand writing.

Only General Wei Gao, Military Governor of Xichuan, could have given it.

Otherwise, even if someone obtained this slip, they would never know it was Zheng Hui of Nanzhao’s token.

“Fear not the road ahead with no true friends—throughout the land, who does not know you…”

Zheng Hui murmured softly.

Within Nanzhao, the situation had grown increasingly tense; recently, important figures—including a Tang diplomatic delegation and a Tibetan high priest—had been killed.

At this moment, regaining the old token, Zheng Hui’s face remained impassive, yet his spine straightened slightly.

After entering the city, the crowd on the streets forced everyone to slow their horses.

Zheng Hui tucked the slip into his sleeve, still calm and composed, guiding the entire convoy toward the Zheng residence.

At the gate, he dismounted and entered; only then did his pace suddenly quicken.

As Chu Tianshu stepped into the mansion, he immediately caught the scent of medicine.

The source lay in the back hall.

The vast hall’s upper half swirled with white steam.

Like the mist rising and lingering in an old-fashioned kitchen during winter as food boiled.

But Nanzhao’s climate was warm.

To produce such a scene, at least four or five ceramic jars of water would have had to boil and evaporate in a short time.

On the floor lay several empty jars, all filled with medicinal dregs—but no stove was visible.

A guest clad in black cloth and red robe sat upon a large pearwood chair, cradling a ceramic jar in both hands.

From within the jar came a bubbling sound, thick steam rising.

It seemed this man was using his bare hands to accelerate the boiling, concentrating the decoction in moments.

The decoctions boiled in those jars had likely already been consumed by him.

“Are you Lord Hai of the Inner Guard’s Right Division?”

Though Zheng Hui had some suspicion, he still drew out the gilded slip, “Was this token obtained from General Wei Gao?”

Hai Donglai replied: “Yes.”

One word answered two questions.

When the Tang Army defeated the combined Tibetan and Nanzhao forces, Zheng Hui had heard the Inner Guard had competed with the military for credit.

As the leading figures on both sides during that battle, Hai Donglai and Wei Gao had been at odds in court.

Yet this secret token must have been voluntarily given by Wei Gao.

Clearly, the rumors were false.

Zheng Hui nodded and said, “Lord Hai, you’ve come regarding the diplomatic delegation. I have no idea how their route was leaked.”

“Please rest here for now. After I meet the monarch, we shall discuss matters together.”

Hai Donglai lifted his eyes, scanning the men before him.

Aside from the steward and guards, Chu Tianshu and Cheng Xianzi’s attire clearly differed from the others in Zheng’s household.

Yet their presence here proved Zheng Hui trusted them deeply.

“It seems you’ve already seen the delegation’s corpses.”

Hai Donglai said, “I didn’t know the delegation’s route—I came to Nanzhao solely to investigate Inner Guard affairs.”

“Yet I never expected someone would assassinate our Tang envoys!”

Hai Donglai’s voice deepened, “Those monks were no ordinary men—especially the old one.”

“He surpassed even the famed champions of old Chang’an’s wandering heroes. And his weapon…”

“A remarkable man—he must be a Tibetan high priest.”

Zheng Hui nodded, his expression grave.

Chu Tianshu had picked up one of the ceramic jars, examining the dregs inside.

“Scutellaria, Forsythia, Houttuynia, Violae, Moutan bark…”

Upon inspection, Chu Tianshu realized nearly all were anti-inflammatory herbs.

Several were especially rare and valuable.

Judging by the growth rings on the herbs, they were precious items—likely from Zheng’s personal collection.

“The herbs are well-chosen, but this ratio is reckless—do you think more herbs mean better medicine?”

Chu Tianshu sat beside Hai Donglai and extended his hand, “I’m a physician—let me examine you.”

As he sat down, even with the room thick with medicinal scent, Chu Tianshu caught the heavy stench of blood on Hai Donglai.

Frankly, he was deeply curious about Hai Donglai’s current condition.

What physiological changes occur in a martial expert severely wounded? How exactly do they cope?

Chu Tianshu could theorize from martial manuals and medical principles, but he’d never witnessed such a case.

Xu the Squad Leader would have been an ideal subject.

But his character was abysmal; circumstances forced me to kill him outright—what a pity.

If I gained experience diagnosing such a master, should I ever be gravely wounded myself—or my strength depleted beyond recovery—I could better judge, stimulate, and sustain my own condition.

Hai Donglai poured the decoction from the jar into a porcelain bowl, filling it halfway, then set the jar aside and extended his hand.

Hai Donglai poured the herbal decoction from the clay pot into a nearby porcelain bowl, filling it more than halfway, then set the pot aside and extended his hand.

Though rumors painted him as arrogant and bloodthirsty, this man was surprisingly courteous.

Chu Tianshu noticed his hands wrapped in many thin white cloth strips, all stained with blood, so he rolled up his sleeves slightly.

But the bandages extended all the way to his forearms, already faintly yellowed.

“These bandages have been on a while—were you injured before fighting the Tibetans?”

Hai Donglai replied calmly: “Not an injury. A disease.”

With Chu Tianshu’s acute sensitivity to force, he could feel the pulse even through the cloth.

He placed his fingers on Hai Donglai’s wrist and fell silent in thought.

Zheng Hui and the others sat down quietly, waiting.

“I’ve never seen such a pulse in my life.”

Chu Tianshu frowned, “When did this illness begin? What other symptoms?”

Hai Donglai said, “As a child, elders told me I was born with this affliction—I cannot endure sunlight.”

“As a child, exposure to sunlight for more than half an hour caused red spots to appear—worse in summer, milder in winter.”

“After age ten, exposure for even half a moment caused dense red spots to merge into patches, burst, and bleed.”

“Later, it worsened—attacks came faster, ulcers ran deeper, each year worse than the last.”

All in the hall were startled.

No one had ever heard of such a strange illness—it sounded like something cursed, a demon that shunned sunlight—hardly human.

Zheng Hui instantly realized: this was a fatal flaw in Hai Donglai.

Even if those present never betrayed it, and even if Hai Donglai’s martial skill made exploiting this flaw exceedingly rare,

for him to reveal it so openly before everyone revealed an unusual mindset.

Unless—he believed he had little time left.

Zheng Hui’s heart sank slightly, his gaze turning hopeful toward Chu Tianshu.

For a martial master, severe injury might heal on its own—but combined with grave illness, only medicine could help.

Chu Tianshu, hearing these symptoms, recalled the porphyria he’d read about in medical journals.

A rare disease worldwide; mild patients might live near-normal lives with strict light avoidance and treatment.

But severe congenital porphyria patients usually died in childhood from complications—even with perfect light avoidance.

Hai Donglai clearly understood his condition, yet he only took these imperfect anti-inflammatory herbs—indicating no prior physician had offered a proper cure.

He had simply endured, training his body into formidable strength to survive this long.

Yet with such a congenital illness, cultivation would be far harder than for ordinary people.

“To endure this death spiral for so many years, and still cultivate martial arts renowned across the land—you truly have iron will!”

Chu Tianshu could not help but admire.

A physician always feels moved by patients with such fierce will to live—especially when they are fellow martial artists.

Born to never see the sun, yet his name shines like the blazing sun.

At the same time, Chu Tianshu could not help but think of the Radiant Wheel.

At the same time, Chu Tianshu couldn’t help thinking of the Burning Sun Disc.

This Hai Donglai is just terribly unlucky.

Born with such a condition, and facing an enemy wielding the Chiri Wheel.

If that old monk had used a different spirit weapon, Hai Donglai’s injuries wouldn’t be this severe.

Severe to the point… where he could drop dead at any moment.

Right now, Hai Donglai appears able to walk and converse, and even if he fought someone, he might barely manage a few moves.

But this grave injury has triggered and unleashed all his complications.

If this inflammation were taken to a place with hospital equipment,

the test results would make doctors think either the machines were broken or they were dreaming.

This is beyond the scope of any medicine.

If, in the next instant, the strain on Hai Donglai’s cerebral blood vessels worsens even slightly, he will truly die right here.

Precisely because his condition is this dire, Chu Tianshu’s most skilled needle technique cannot be applied to him.

“Even before you were injured, with a condition this severe, you should’ve stayed home to rest properly—how dare you wander around like this…”

“Wait, you’re this badly injured—you can barely walk, yet how did you reach Wang Cheng within a single day? You didn’t ride a horse, did you?”

Chu Tianshu’s eyes lit up; he activated his Spirit Sight and carefully observed Hai Donglai, his gaze fixed on his chest.

“Your spirit weapon is inside your body!”

Hai Donglai had long anticipated the severity of his condition; his expression held only a faint trace of sorrow and regret as he nodded. “My umbrella was destroyed—I could only temporarily house the spirit weapon within myself.”

When a spirit weapon is deeply cultivated and perfectly attuned to its master, it can indeed be temporarily housed inside the body.

In this way, even if the original weapon’s material is poor and shattered in battle, the spirit weapon can transfer to a new one.

But the reason spirit weapons manifest such wondrous power is because they are purer than humans.

If housed inside the body too long, they become tainted by the host’s turbulent emotions, their power regresses, or even dissipates.

“I’d forgotten spirit weapons had this trait.”

Chu Tianshu’s brow relaxed; his demeanor brightened.

“Good, good, good—you might still be saved!”

(End of Chapter)