Ice and Fire: Reign of the Dragon.

Chapter 439
The candlelight cast a swaying shadow on the damp stone wall, outlining the outline of Damion Vareses, who was wrapped tightly in protective clothing, like a wizard in some ancient mural. He used the Valyrian steel lancet in his hand to cut open the chest of the corpse, and the smell of corruption of black blood heat immediately exploded in the enclosed space. It was a sweet and fishy smell mixed with rust and rotten apples.

"This is the third internal bleeding." Damion whispered to himself, pushing the lung lobes apart with his fingertips. "The liver is completely necrotic. No wonder, no wonder."

The corpse on the dissection table was once a stonemason in Dragon's Nest City, strong as a mountain, but in three days, he was eaten away by the black blood fever and turned into a hollow shell. Damion's purple eyes narrowed slightly, recording every lesion. He knew that every time he dissected a corpse, he was one step closer to completely cracking this plague. Although the epidemic has been brought under control, everyone knows that there is no specific medicine for black blood fever, and no one knows whether this disease, which is comparable to the tremor disease in the past, will make a comeback.

Suddenly, hurried footsteps were heard at the end of the stone steps.

"Lord Damion!"

The servant's voice echoed in the deep tunnel, trembling unnaturally. Damion said without even looking up, "Get out." The scalpel continued to separate the adhesions of the fascia, "I told you not to disturb me."

"Yes, it was Lord Blood Crow! He descended from the sky on Blood Eye and said that Prince Maekar—"

Damion threw the scalpel into the potion beside him, cleaned it, put it away, and walked out of the basement quickly.

He changed his clothes, took off his bloodstained gloves, and his black robe fluttered behind him like wings. He rushed up the spiral staircase in two steps, and the cold stone steps made a dull echo under the boots he had just changed.

The mountain wind on the ground was like a knife. Damion squinted his eyes, which were stung by the firelight, and saw Brynden standing next to his Sayare. This was unusual. Bloodraven rarely rode Bloodeye himself out of King's Landing, and would never rashly touch the mounts of other dragon riders, even when he was with them as a child.

"What happened to Meka? Is he injured?" Damion didn't even wait for the other party to speak.

"The crossbow arrows, the poison of the dancing ghost grass, pierced the lungs." Blood Crow's single eye was bloodier than before. "The grand secretaries have given up. Now it's just you, cousin Damion."

Damion stroked the potion bag on his waist. No further explanation was needed. Maekar Targaryen had survived until now purely due to the tenacity of his Targaryen bloodline and the professionalism of his maesters.

Sayaer sensed his master's emotions, and all his rouge-red scales exploded, and his jagged dragon neck drooped. Demi grabbed the saddle chain and said, "Lead the way."

Brynden's white dragon Bloodeye let out a sharp hiss. This snow-white dragon with red eyes was smaller than Sayare, but was known for its agility. Both dragons took off at the same time and flew north.

"Who did it?" The strong wind tore Damion's voice into pieces.

The blood crow on the back of the Blood Eye in front turned around, its white hair dancing wildly in the air current: "A bastard from the Hedge Knights."

Sayael suddenly accelerated, his jagged bone armor cutting through the clouds. Damion knew that Maekar was lying in the Red Keep at the moment, losing more life with every second. And he was a hope more sincere than any prayer.

When Damion stepped into the room, the air seemed to freeze for a moment. His black robe still carried the chill of flying high in the sky. His purple eyes swept over the dying Maika on the bed, and his gaze suddenly became as sharp as a knife.

"Everyone get out of the way."

His voice was not loud, but it made the maesters around the bed step back involuntarily. Regal I still held his brother's wrist tightly, his knuckles white, as if this could stop the life from draining from Maekar's body.

“Your Majesty,” Damion knelt on one knee, his voice low and firm, “If you wish him to live, let go.”

Reg's Adam's apple rolled, and he finally took half a step back.

Damion's hand hovered half an inch above Mekar's wound, his fingertips lightly brushing over the broken crossbow arrow. The arrow shaft had been shortened, leaving only a three-inch stump, but the arrowhead was still deeply embedded below the collarbone, the surrounding flesh was an ominous purple, and the blood vessels spread like spider webs under the skin like poisoned vines.

"The poison of the Demon Dance Grass has spread." Damion's voice was calm and almost cruel. When his fingertips pressed the edge of the wound, Meka's body spasmed violently, and cold sweat instantly soaked the silver hair on his forehead.

Reg's hands clasped the bedpost tightly, his knuckles turning white, as if this would help him share his brother's pain. Jonniel and Luthris had already held down Maeka's limbs, but Damion shook his head: "Not enough, he will struggle even harder later."

Silently, Seneoor straddled the bed and pinned Maeka's torso with his full weight.

Damion pulled out a Valyrian steel blade from his medical bag. The blade was as thin as a willow leaf, and the edge of the blade shone dark red in the candlelight. This was the Valyrian steel lancet he often used. "This blade is tempered with dragon flames." He explained briefly, then turned to Rhaeg, "Your Majesty, you'd better step back."

Reg didn't move.

Damion said no more. The moment the knife pierced the wound, Maika's eyes suddenly widened, and a strangled roar erupted from his throat. Damion's movements were precise and cruel. The blade cut a cross along the arrow wound, and black and red pus and blood immediately gushed out, carrying the unique smell of rotten grass powder, flowing like some kind of living thing.

"Hold him down!"

Jonniel's knee pressed hard against Maekar's shoulder, and Luciris almost pressed his whole body on his leg. Maekar's struggle made the wound burst more violently, and blood splattered on Damion's armor, but he didn't even blink.

"The arrow shaft has broken, but the arrowhead is embedded below the ribs." Damion's fingers gently explored the wound, and suddenly raised his head to look at Jonniel, "I need your blood."

Jonnell was stunned: "What?"

“Don’t ask.” Damion had already grabbed his wrist, the knife flashed, and blood immediately gushed out.

Jonniel's blood was poured into a silver cup and mixed with a dark purple powder that smelled like pine. Damion dipped a bone needle into the mixture and pierced twelve points around the wound, forming a circle of strange runes.

“Now—” Damion’s hand suddenly closed around the end of the arrow, “count to three.”

He exerted force suddenly before counting to two.

Maekar's screams were stifled by a cloth soaked in boiling wine that Luthris stuffed into his mouth in time. The barbed arrow made a terrible sticky sound when it left the flesh, and blood gushed out of the wound. Damion immediately poured the remaining blood-medicine mixture into the wound, barely stopping the bleeding.

"All the dead flesh must be removed."

The sound of the blade scraping against the bone was tooth-grinding. Damion's fingertips penetrated the wound, uncovering the muscle tissue corroded by the poison, and each cut was terrifyingly accurate. Maekar's pupils were dilated, and his breathing was as rapid as a dying beast.

"Snakevine juice."

Damion held out his hand, and Senelor immediately handed him a crystal bottle with a sticky emerald liquid sloshing inside. "The snake vines of Sothoryos can burn away the poison, but," he paused, "it will hurt like real flames."

When the liquid medicine dripped into the open wound, Maika's back suddenly arched, and Seneoel could hardly hold him down. A strange wisp of green smoke rose from the wound, and the flesh and blood made a subtle "sizzling" sound, as if it was really burning. Maika's fingers dug into the bed sheet tightly, his knuckles turned white due to the force, and the sound squeezed out of his throat was no longer a human voice, but a whimper like some kind of beast.

Reg suddenly stepped forward and grabbed his brother's wrist. "Look at me!" He growled, his purple eyes fixed on Meka's dilated pupils, "Don't close your eyes! Look at me!"

Damion did not pause. His blade continued to move deep into the wound, picking out the last bit of blackened fascia. Pus and blood mixed with snakevine juice dripped into the silver basin, corroding tiny bubbles like acid.

“Jonniel.” Damion looked up suddenly. “Your blood.”

Joniel held out his hand obediently.

With a flash of the knife, Damion cut Jonil's wrist, and the blood once again flowed into a silver cup filled with silver powder.

“Now.” Damion poured the blood-medicine mixture onto Maekar’s wound. “Hold on.”

The moment the blood touched the wound, Meka's body twitched violently, as if it was being burned from the inside by invisible flames. But gradually, the dark blue lines around the wound began to fade, and the blood gradually turned bright red.

A thin layer of sweat oozed from Damion's forehead, but his voice remained steady: "The poison has been temporarily resolved."

Reg slowly released his brother's wrist. Maika had fallen into a coma, his breathing weak but steady.

"For now?" Reg's voice was as low as thunder.

Damion wiped the blade clean and raised his eyes with unfathomable purple eyes: "This is just the beginning."

(End of this chapter)