The recovery ward of the Medicine Hall was quiet, smelling of dried chamomile and the bitter scent of boiled roots. Thin shafts of late afternoon sunlight filtered through the paper screens, illuminating the dust motes dancing in the warm air.
Su Ming stood beside the wooden cot where the lady lay in a deep, motionless slumber, her breathing faint and shallow. Her face was pale, almost translucent under the soft light, and her usual cold, distant aura had softened into a fragile stillness.
'While I am here, I should inspect her meridians as well,' Su Ming thought. 'To reconstruct Wang Tian's shattered dantian, I need to understand a wide variety of cultivators' meridian structures. As I recall, she had some sort of special meridians.'
Focusing his mind, he activated his Essence Sight.
The world before him lost its physical colors. The wooden cot, the stone floor, and the white walls dissolved into a quiet grey background.
