The Great Song Dynasty's Soul-Forging in Progress

The next morning, the maid brought breakfast as usual, but found that Liu Xinyi was still sitting in the same position as the night before, without moving.

Unresponsive to calls, immovable by pushes, and icy cold to the touch!

The maid was terrified and hurriedly reported the incident.

Zhao Jinyu, along with Chen Shimei and Zhao Zongyuan who had rushed to the scene, burst into the room. They found Liu Xinyi pale as a sheet, her breathing barely perceptible, her pulse faint, like a candle flickering in the wind, about to be extinguished at any moment. No matter how they called out to her or shook her, she did not respond, like a delicate but lifeless jade sculpture.

"What...what's going on?!" Zhao Zongyuan was both shocked and furious. He wanted a vibrant and alluring cold beauty, not a cold corpse!

Chen Shimei's face darkened, and he immediately summoned the best doctor in the prefecture, and even secretly invited the Gu master he had hired at great expense who was proficient in the strange arts of the Western Regions.

However, all the doctors shook their heads and sighed after taking the pulse. The pulse was peculiar, seemingly neither dead nor alive; they had never seen such a strange symptom before and were all at a loss.

After a careful examination, the Western Region Gu Master's eyes flashed with a hint of surprise and doubt. He whispered, "Lord Chen, this woman... seems to have sealed off her six senses on her own, falling into a very deep state of suspended animation. This method is profound and beyond the scope of Central Plains medicine; it seems more like... some kind of lost ancient secret technique. Without special means to forcibly awaken her, her life may be in danger."

"If this continues, how long can she keep it up?"

"At most a month and a half, otherwise even a miracle won't save him."

"Useless!" Zhao Zongyuan kicked over the stool next to him in anger.

Chen Shimei's eyes flickered. He vaguely sensed that this might be Liu Xinyi's extreme form of resistance. But in her current state, killing her was pointless, keeping her alive was troublesome, and she had become a hot potato. If she truly died, Wang Zhonghua would surely go mad upon his return, and he wouldn't be able to explain himself to Ouyang Xiu and the Emperor. But if he allowed her to continue like this, the young prince couldn't satisfy him…

Zhao Jinyu stood in front of the bed, looking at Liu Xinyi's bloodless face, and suddenly understood everything.

She recalled what Liu Xinyi had said to her last night: "Princess, there's no need to blame yourself. I will walk the rest of the road myself."

So this is what she meant by "walking on your own".

It's not about running away, it's not about surrendering, but about using the most resolute way to protect one's innocence and one's conscience.

Zhao Jinyu's tears fell silently.

She bent down, gently took Liu Xinyi's cold hand, and whispered, "Miss Liu, don't worry. Before you wake up, no one will touch a hair on your head."

She straightened up, turned to Chen Shimei and Zhao Zongyuan, and spoke in a voice as cold as iron:

"You've all seen it! Miss Liu's life is hanging by a thread, all because of your coercion! Until she wakes up, no one is allowed to harm her! If anything happens to her, I will immediately report to my father and the Emperor that Chenzhou Prefecture forced an innocent female physician to her death. Let's see how you explain yourselves!"

Her words were forceful and temporarily quelled the situation.

Chen Shimei and the young prince exchanged bewildered glances, at a loss for what to do. Zhao Zongyuan wanted to say something, but Chen Shimei gave him a look, and he reluctantly shut his mouth.

Each of the three had their own thoughts and left one after the other.

Zhao Jinyu stayed alone in the room, holding Liu Xinyi's hand, and sat there for the entire day.

Looking at Liu Xinyi sleeping soundly on the bed, she murmured, "Miss Liu, you are my blessing. You have shown me that there are still people in this world who do not bow to power or submit to fate. You have shown me that all these years of enduring humiliation and compromising were not because I was stupid, but because I forgot—I am a member of the royal family, and I should have my own backbone."

She stood up, walked to the window, and opened it.

Outside the window, dawn was breaking. On the distant horizon, a ray of golden light pierced through the dark clouds, spilling into the long-oppressed courtyard.

She took a deep breath and felt that she had never been as clear-headed as she was at this moment in the past thirty years.

The news was quickly disseminated through special channels.

Upon hearing this devastating news, Wang Zhonghua, who was still en route, was heartbroken and filled with boundless hatred. He wished he could sprout wings and fly back to Chenzhou immediately!

Meanwhile, at the Yang family residence in Tianbo, Emperor Zhao Zhen also received a secret report from Chenzhou.

"Self-isolation, feigning death by breathing?" A glint flashed in Yang Jinhua's eyes. Having spent a long time in Yunnan, dealing with Miao medicine and Gu techniques, she had heard of such esoteric arts. "What a fiercely independent woman! This method is extremely dangerous. Only a martial arts master with pure internal energy to protect the heart meridian, supplemented by top-notch medical skills to guide the stagnant energy, can awaken her."

She immediately realized that this was both an opportunity and a challenge. If she could revive Liu Xinyi, she could not only thwart Chen Shimei's plot but also gain the trust of this medical genius, and even…

Zhao Zhen then thought of Ning Zhongze, the "Martial Saint" who lived in seclusion in Bianjing and whose martial arts had reached a state of perfection. In this world, if we consider the purity and depth of one's internal energy, no one else could reliably accomplish this task!

Ning Zhongze owed the Tianbo Mansion a great favor many years ago and lamented the lack of a successor. If this opportunity were to be seized, and he were asked to treat Liu Xinyi, allowing him to once again see the unpolished gem that is Wang Zhonghua…

A clear plan formed in Zhao Zhen's mind: save Liu Xinyi, recruit Ning Zhongze, and capture Wang Zhonghua!

Zhao Zhen immediately issued an imperial edict. One letter was sent to Chenzhou by urgent secret mail, instructing the imperial envoy hidden in Chenzhou Prefecture to stabilize the situation and ensure that Liu Xinyi's body was not harmed; the other letter was sent by a trusted confidant to Ning Zhongze's secluded residence in Bianjing.

On the chessboard, the winds of change are blowing once again.

By using himself as a pawn, Liu Xinyi made a risky move that put her in a do-or-die situation, instantly breaking the deadlock and leading the struggle into a deeper and more thrilling realm!

A contest of medical skills, martial arts prowess, humanity, and wisdom is about to begin!

The 29th day of the first lunar month.

At noon, in Bianliang, the capital of the Eastern Capital, at the Chuigong Hall.

The hall was paved with gold bricks, and jade pillars were adorned with coiled dragons. Incense smoke, like dragon's saliva, wafted from the mouth of a mythical lion-like creature, weaving pale golden veils in the winter sunlight streaming through the high windows. Civil and military officials stood solemnly on either side according to rank, their robes a vibrant mix of crimson, purple, and green, like a silent forest. Behind a twelve-tasseled white jade beaded curtain, Emperor Zhao Zhen of the Song Dynasty sat upright on the throne. He was forty-three years old, his face refined and gentle, his brows bearing the scholarly elegance inherited from the Song imperial family. However, his eyes, which always held a hint of a smile, now concealed a barely perceptible weariness—the deaths of his three sons in childhood, the lack of an heir, and financial pressures weighed heavily on his mind. Especially when his gaze, seemingly casually, swept over the purple-robed figure at the head of the left flank below the steps, a sharp, needle-like worry materialized deep within that weariness.

Unlike the silence of the other officials, the man in the purple robe at the head of the left side below the imperial steps was slightly turning his head, listening to the suppressed cough of an elderly censor behind him.

The elderly censor, surnamed Liu, was over seventy years old and known for his integrity and uprightness. At this moment, however, he was coughing and wheezing due to a cold. The man in purple robes heard him clearly and, before the palace guards could react, quietly removed his light, warm sable cloak and draped it over the old censor's shoulders. The movement was natural and fluid, without any affectation, accompanied only by a soft whisper: "Take care, Lord Liu; it's chilly in the palace."

The old censor looked up in surprise, meeting a pair of gentle, smiling phoenix eyes. Those eyes were clear and sincere, like ice melting in spring, without a trace of the condescension of a prince. Before he could decline, the man in purple robes gently pressed his withered hand, shook his head slightly, and then turned and returned to his seat, as if merely brushing away a speck of dust.

The hall was completely silent.

Countless gazes, some open, some hidden, fell upon that purple robe—below the throne, at the head of all officials, stood Zhao Yunlang, the Prince of Xiangyang, the current emperor's elder brother, the Prefect of Kaifeng, and father of twenty-two sons. For seven years as Prefect of Kaifeng, he remembered the names and hometowns of officials below the third rank, the birthdays and death anniversaries of their parents, and even which family's young child suffered from a heart ailment and required what medicine. Whenever it rained or snowed, the charcoal fires in his prefectural office were always lit three days earlier than others; in years of famine, his princely residence always set up ten more soup kitchens than the government offices.

The title "Wise King" was not an official title, but a term of praise passed down orally among the millions of people in Bianjing.

Last winter, when the Emperor fell ill, it was this cousin who stayed by his side for three days without changing his clothes; the autumn before last, when the Yellow River breached its banks, it was this imperial brother who donated three years' worth of the Prince's mansion's funds to provide relief to the disaster victims. The entire court praised the "harmonious relationship between the brothers," but only the Emperor behind the beaded curtain, when reviewing memorials late at night, would occasionally stare blankly at the "list of festival gifts" presented by the Prince of Xiangyang's mansion—the list was as detailed as an account, yet not a single word exceeded the bounds of propriety, stopping precisely at the boundary of a subject's duty, without the slightest deviation.

He was forty-nine years old, yet he was as well-preserved as if he had just passed forty. His skin was fair and smooth, without a single wrinkle, and three long, jet-black beards hung down to his chest, each hair perfectly trimmed and without a single strand out of place. He wore a seven-ridged official hat, a purple robe with gold embroidery of unicorns on a round neck, a jade belt around his waist, and a gold fish-shaped pouch. He stood with great composure, his hands clasped in front of his chest on a jade tablet, his fingers long and white, his nails neatly trimmed. Most striking were his eyes—the classic Zhao-style phoenix eyes, slightly upturned at the corners, their opening and closing revealing a sharp, inner light. Seemingly peaceful, they were actually as deep as an ancient well, and when his gaze occasionally shifted, they exuded an imposing, dignified air cultivated from long years in a high position and wielding power over life and death. He simply stood there, the auspicious cloud patterns embroidered with gold thread on his robe sleeves subtly flowing in the light of the hall, as if the aura of half the court was drawn to him, making him a true "pillar of stability."

However, today, this "stabilizing force" needs to "move its position".