Liu Sheng was dragging his body through the battlefield. He was aching all over his body. He felt like dying, and it was even worse when it looked like he was standing alone. He was bleeding—he couldn't remember from where—but that hardly mattered.
All around him, silence had replaced the sound of swords; everyone was dead. He couldn't see even a slight movement or twitch from any side. The metallic scent of blood could be tasted in the air; the dust hadn't settled yet, so breathing in was hard.
Sheng couldn't take it anymore and fell down on his knees and sat down. He looked down on the faces of his fallen warriors; it was his family, friends. He let out a heart-wrenching scream. Liu Cheng, Liu An, Wen Jun, Fang Tao, and all of his brothers and soldiers were dead.
"I will kill them!" he swore, shouting, while holding the body of his youngest brother, Liu An. He was only fifteen, still young. He should still run around with a smile on his face and not fight for a power-hungry government.
Why was Liu Sheng the one still breathing?
That haunted Liu Sheng so much. Jin Hua, their medic, was lying just by Liu An. It couldn't be him who saved him. Even though he did it many times before. So many times.
Liu Sheng recalled the dark, poorly lit room from the past. He was sitting upright, Jin Hua right behind him, inspecting the arrow that pierced his shoulder. It was high enough for it not to pierce any organ, yet not high enough just to graze him. The arrow was stuck, and he couldn't move his shoulder.
"I have to break the head and take it out from behind. If I just take it out, it will tear it even more." Sheng nodded, and Hua braced for the work he had to do. With a saw, he had cut away the head, taken out the arrow, and put a paste on the wound to heal it quicker.
"You shouldn't move your shoulder at all, or it will not heal properly and you will be crippled," he said while strapping Sheng's left arm to his body with bandages.
"You know I'm a general? I need to fight…"
"Well, you'd better learn a one-handed sword, or some one-handed weapon, because you won't be able to draw a bow for a while." Even though Sheng wanted to fight back, he couldn't. There was a reason this young fella was able to become an army medic at such a young age. His own fighting was superb, and his ability to make him suffer for longer than needed was, too.
The last time Sheng's leg was cut on his thigh, Hua had tied him to the bed to prevent him from walking around. He was let out only to use the potty, and that was it. He was fed in bed, too. His body was cleaned by maids. This was torture for a guy who was used to everyday training since he could walk.
Sheng couldn't believe such a strong guy was gone. He and his older brother Cheng were almost undefeated in barracks. Only one guy defeated them, and that was Wen Jun.
There is no way they could be dead. That wasn't possible. Sheng just couldn't think of any reason or possibility of how they could die.
It must have been his mistake. He made the wrong decision, saying they should retreat. It was all his fault.
"He has to live. I didn't put my sweat and blood of my family for him to die! I'll just do Ku Shen decoction." Someone shouted; the voice could be heard all around Sheng. He couldn't pinpoint where it was. But he heard Ku Shen. Someone wanted him dead!
He needed to fight, he wanted to fight, but he couldn't move. His body just fell on the battlefield. He was lying there with his brothers.
"Bai Zhi! I told you Bai Zhi! Do you want to kill him? Ban Zhi Lian is toxic in this dose!" The voice was getting closer. Sheng opened his eyes and saw a black shadow looming over him, holding him on its lap. It pried open his mouth and poured something into it. At first, Sheng spat it out. It was horrible, bitter. They definitely wanted to kill him.
"You idiot! Drink it!" The shadow yelled and opened his mouth once again. Once he poured the rest of the decoction down his throat, he threw away the bowl and put a hand over Sheng's mouth. He had no choice but to swallow it, or he would die unable to breathe,
It was so bitter… It was the bitterness that clung to the tongue, followed by a dull sweetness that faded slowly at the back of the throat. It was disgusting, and Sheng knew the feeling from licorice. In his belly, a cold feeling suddenly took place, and the rain that started falling on him helped him to cool down his hot body. He shivered, and then he couldn't keep his eyes open.
The last thing he saw was a flash of black eyes smiling happily. He swore that he would kill whoever this was. Whoever killed his family. If he survived it, all of them were dead, no matter the emperor or god. He will have his revenge!
Jingting was boiling the decoction of Ku Shen in the room. He had to do it because it spoiled quickly, and the herbs had to be boiled for a long time. And this idiot had already spilled one cup.
And after Lin Yi, his immediate disciple, almost killed him with a wrong decoction, he decided to do it himself. But he still had to oversee his recovery and be ready. That's why he did it in this room.
He had no idea why people were fighting him when he was just helping them. He had long lost his patience with those people and made them either drink it or die. He didn't care anymore. Well, he did care. Saying he didn't would be a lie, he wanted all of them to survive. That's why he worked hard to keep them alive.
And to be honest, it sometimes meant being ruthless. He had one grandpa who suffered a minor injury on a field. His hand was infected, yet he didn't want to take the medicine because he was already old and meant to die! What a joke. Or women who would rather suffer and use whatever folk remedies their maids or nannies tell them to, especially when conceiving children.
It was something Jingting hated the most.
He looked at the person in the bed. He was lying on his side, facing Jingting, and his complexion was already better than yesterday.
Nobody was in here, so Jingting just crawled on his fours to the bed and sat on the floor. He checked the warrior's pulse and had to excitedly say it was getting stable. He was getting better.
Now, Jingting was so surprised at his own skill that he was looking at his hand with awe and admiration.
Somehow, the exhaustion from three days of work kicked in, and he drifted off to sleep. Right there on the bed. Just to be woken up by fingers clamped around his throat, depriving him of his breath.