Li Wuxin couldn't sleep that night. His eyes darted back and forth between the medical register and his treatment journal, meticulously marking every inconsistency with red ink. Perhaps it was the adrenaline, or maybe it was the strong tea he'd consumed earlier; either way, something kept him awake.

He had never been a deep sleeper. By the time the sun began to rise, he was still hunched over the books, his neck stiff, dark circles beneath his eyes, and a headache pulsating at his temples. For what, though? Honestly, it was for nothing. The entire night left him with a bitter aftertaste.

The tent was silent, save for the faint rustling of fabric as the wind slipped in.

Then, a soft, hesitant voice pierced the stillness.

"Master?"

He blinked and sat up straight, momentarily pulled from the depths of his thoughts. His disciple stood at the entrance, her fingers still curled around the curtain and her Brown, square-shaped strands swirling in the breeze

"Come in," he said quietly, his voice rougher than he intended.

Only once she stepped inside did he fully lift his gaze from the books. She saw him immediately—he hadn’t slept. His expression made it evident.

She stepped forward, pulling two warm, steaming buns from a basket she carried.

"I thought you might like these," she said nonchalantly. "I remembered how much you like them."

In truth, Lu Xiaoqian had two very personal reasons. One: her master was notoriously picky about food. Two: she didn’t want to suffer again. The memory of the last time was still too vivid—the burnt eggs, the charred edges, the smell...

Gods, the smell.

It had been a nauseating combination of something scorched and rubbery, mixed with the stench of a rotting corpse in the sun. She still couldn’t understand how someone with such a brilliant mind could turn an egg into a war crime.

She shuddered at the thought.

"Don’t tell me those eggs still haunt you," Li Wuxin said, his voice laced with amusement.

He didn’t need to ask—he already knew what she was thinking. Their eyes met, a shared look between them, half horror, half complicity, and they both laughed, quietly and without reserve, as they bit into the soft, white buns.

"Master... with all due respect," Lu Xiaoqian said between two bites, "that wasn’t an omelet. That was a battlefield casualty. Please, let me cook next time. You’re scaring the eggs."

Li Wuxin scoffed lightly. "You act as if I tried to poison you. They weren’t that bad."

She turned her head sharply, mock-horrified. "Sir... please don’t tell me you ate those." A brief pause, and then, growing more concerned, she added, "And you’re still alive? That’s impressive. But... you didn’t have to prove your courage."

Her words stung, a direct blow to his culinary pride. And yes, it hurt.

They finished eating, and without wasting time, made their way to the medical tent. The start of their day had been peaceful enough. Li Wuxin appeared calm as his hands buried themselves in the mix of medicinal herbs, but in truth, he was someone who never let go of a problem. Ever since the incident with the impostor, it had been gnawing at him, making it impossible to focus. He tried to appear composed, but his mind kept returning to it over and over.

He was taken by surprise when a blond man appeared before him. The man was short, his eyes too large and green, resembling oversized emeralds, and his face was so youthful it bordered on childlike.

"Excuse me, sir," the man spoke, his voice almost childishly high. "I am a southern envoy, and I have something for you." He rummaged through his bag. "Here, for you."

Li Wuxin noted the lack of gloves, a flicker of doubt passing through him before he accepted the letter.

The letter was thin, and he could feel something inside it. The southern envoy bowed and left.

"Lu Xiaoqian, you’ve done enough for today. Go rest. I’ll handle this. Oh, and when you have time, can you find the register of everyone who entered the camp over the past three months? Leave it on my desk once you find it."

The young girl didn’t quite understand the request, but she didn’t ask questions. She greeted each patient before heading off.

After a long day of work, Li Wuxin felt utterly drained. He dragged his feet back to his tent. When he lifted the flap, he noticed the blue book on his desk, and he smiled faintly.

"I'm too tired, but my work calls me," he muttered.

As he removed his coat, a letter slipped from its folds, floating to the ground. He picked it up, but without so much as a glance, tucked it away in the closet. There was no need to read it. He already knew its contents.

He grabbed the blue book from his desk and began flipping through its pages.

The register was as meticulously kept as always, every entry recorded in neat rows, with names of soldiers, messengers, and even civilians who had passed through the camp over the past few months.

His eyes skimmed the entries, pausing when he reached the most recent weeks.

The southern envoy’s name appeared, just as the man had mentioned: "Hao Wei." There was nothing unusual about it. However, Li Wuxin’s gaze sharpened. He checked the date again—one week ago.

The envoy had arrived a full week ago. That was far longer than one would expect for a simple delivery.

Li Wuxin’s fingers hovered over the page. That was odd. His mind raced. It wasn’t unusual for an envoy to stay a few days, but an entire week? Something didn’t add up.

He turned the page, scanning for more details. Each visitor's purpose was usually recorded, or at least an explanation for their arrival. But Hao Wei’s entry was vague: "Arrival. Awaiting audience with Command."

Nothing more. No indication of what he had been doing during his stay. No report of any official meetings or duties.

Li Wuxin’s suspicion deepened. Why had the envoy stayed for so long without a clear explanation? There were no records of him leaving, and his activities were a mystery.

Flipping through more pages, Li Wuxin noted that Hao Wei had interacted with several high-ranking officers, but none had recorded anything beyond routine greetings. This was not how business was conducted in such a camp.

Li Wuxin let out a low breath as the weight of the situation settled in. It didn’t take long for him to draw an uncomfortable conclusion: something was off about this envoy.

The man had stayed too long with too little to show for it. No one had questioned him, no one had documented his actions, and now, he appeared again, acting as if nothing were wrong. The coincidence was too suspicious.

The morning light crept through the tent, casting a pale glow across the room. Li Wuxin awoke with a dull headache, his eyes still blurry from the lack of sleep. His mind immediately replayed the images of the blue book, the envoy’s odd behavior, and the unsettling thoughts that had plagued him all night.

He sighed, rubbing his temples, wishing for clearer answers. But there was no time to rest. The camp was abnormally restless, whispers filling the air like fog. It didn’t take long for him to find out why.

That day, five people came to him with complaints of nausea, vomiting, diarrhea, and sharp abdominal pain. Two were in a worse state, vomiting blood, their skin pale and their eyes glassy with dizziness.

"It appears we’re facing a case of collective food poisoning," Li Wuxin muttered grimly.

The second day was barely breaking, but the medical tent was already full. Eight more patients had arrived since dawn, all with the same symptoms: vomiting, abdominal cramps, diarrhea, and, in two cases, a worsening fever. One soldier had collapsed from dehydration.

Li Wuxin stopped counting. The symptoms were relentless, and there was no time for rest—not yet.

The third day was worse than the first two, with the number of patients steadily increasing. Even Lu Xiaoqian began to feel unwell. He suspected that she had been feeling it since the first day but had hidden it.

"To heal is not enough," Li Wuxin muttered. "If I don’t find the cause, I’m not a doctor. Just a delay."

The next two days, he put his words into action.

"Bring me the kitchen staff," he said, not lifting his gaze from the bowl.

A few minutes later, three figures stood outside the tent: two cooks and a young boy.

Li Wuxin didn’t bother sitting. He stood, arms crossed, his gaze sharp despite the bags under his eyes.

"Who prepared the midday meal yesterday?"

The older cook, a man with burnt knuckles and soot-stained sleeves, cleared his throat. "It was me and Wei Lin," he said, nodding toward the second man. "We boiled rice, added dried vegetables and pork, same as always."

"Where did the pork come from?"

"South storage tent."

Li Wuxin’s eyes narrowed. "And the vegetables?"

"Dried from last month’s shipment. We inspected them thoroughly. We always follow regulations, Master Li."

He turned his attention to the boy. "And you? Did you deliver anything unusual yesterday?"

The boy fidgeted. "No, sir. Just brought salt and some oil. And... a pouch someone gave me. They said it was spice from the South. A gift."

"From the South?" Li Wuxin’s expression remained impassive, but his voice dropped a note. He knew someone from the South.

"And exactly who gave it to you?"

"I... I don’t know his name. A foreigner. Blond hair, green eyes. He said he was a southern envoy, sir. I didn’t mean any harm, I promise." The boy began to cry.

Li Wuxin exhaled slowly, the pieces beginning to fall into place.

"And what did you do with the pouch?"

"I gave it to Cook Wei. I swear, I didn’t open it. I thought it was just spice." The boy cried even harder.

Wei Lin turned pale.

Li Wuxin turned to him. "Did you use it?"

"I... yes. A pinch. It smelled strong, but... I thought it was seasoning."

Li Wuxin closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them, his voice was colder than before.

"Bring me the pouch," he commanded, his voice sharp.

Five minutes later, the boy returned, his eyes still red from crying.

The pouch was made of soft, worn silk, faded red in color. Nothing about it screamed danger, yet the moment Li Wuxin held it, a quiet tension settled in his shoulders.

He untied the knot, his fingers steady despite the knowledge of what he might find.

Inside was a fine, grayish powder. It wasn’t something he recognized at first glance.

He brought it closer, careful not to inhale, then tipped a bit into a porcelain dish and added a few drops of distilled water.

The mixture hissed softly and fizzed.

His frown deepened.

He dipped a thin strip of rice paper into the mixture, waited a few moments, and pulled it out. The edge turned a pale greenish-black.

"This isn’t seasoning," he said. "This is Baifan mixed with something else. Something stronger. It reacts with stomach acid. Causes burning, internal bleeding... and if the dose is high enough, worse."

The silence was deafening.

Wei Lin turned an ashen gray.

"I didn’t know... I thought..."

Li Wuxin didn’t respond. He was already grabbing one of his journals. He needed to match the symptoms. Confirm the compound. Trace it. Fast.

He only paused once, his eyes still fixed on the blackened rice paper, then sprinted toward the commander’s tent.

"Commander, don’t eat that. It’s poisoned."

The realization hit him like a bolt of lightning.

And if the pouch was meant to be shared... then someone important was the target.

"The commander," he whispered.

The commander froze, his expression blank, the color draining from his face. "Doctor, you just saved me." His fingers trembled, and the spoon slipped from his hand, hitting the porcelain with a sharp, ringing clink.

Li Wuxin stepped forward with purpose, grabbing the bowl before the commander could react.

"This isn’t just a stew, Your Excellency," he said calmly. "It’s a trap. And you were the target."

Li Wuxin’s words hung in the air, sharp and heavy. The commander blinked, clearly shaken by the gravity of what had just been revealed.

"I... I don’t understand," the commander stammered, his face pale. "Who would do such a thing?"

Li Wuxin didn’t answer immediately. His eyes were fixed on the bowl, the contents now dangerously close to his fingers. He felt the weight of every moment pressing down on him, as if the very air around them thickened with tension.

"It’s not about who," Li Wuxin replied slowly, his voice low but steady. "It’s about why. Someone is trying to eliminate you—or perhaps weaken you. But this isn’t just about you, sir. It’s about all of us."

The commander’s brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"

Li Wuxin turned to face him, his expression serious. "I don’t know yet. But this wasn’t a simple attempt at poisoning. This... powder, it’s designed to cause chaos. If I hadn’t intervened when I did, the entire camp could have fallen into disarray—either through illness or fear. This is a calculated move."

The commander seemed to grasp the gravity of the situation now, his gaze sharpening. "So, what do we do?"

"We need to find out who is behind this," Li Wuxin said, his eyes hardening with determination. "I’ll need full access to the records, and I need to speak with the guards and anyone who might have come into contact with this envoy. No one leaves until we’re certain of their intentions."

The commander nodded, his hand tightening around the armrest of his chair. "I’ll order the men to assemble. We’ll question everyone. But... what about the food? What about the rest of the camp?"

"We’ll take care of that immediately," Li Wuxin said. "The rest of the food must be inspected and disposed of. I’ll personally oversee the treatment of those affected."

As Li Wuxin turned to leave, his mind raced with the possibilities. This wasn’t just a random act of sabotage. Whoever had orchestrated this knew exactly what they were doing. And the fact that it was aimed at the commander meant that the stakes had just risen dramatically.

He reached the door, then paused. "One more thing, Commander. I need you to be careful. There’s no telling who is involved, and it could be anyone in this camp—officers, messengers, even someone close to you. Trust no one."

The commander’s face darkened, but he nodded, accepting the seriousness of the warning.

Li Wuxin stepped out into the crisp morning air, the weight of his decision settling on his shoulders. His heart pounded in his chest, but his focus was unwavering. He would find out who was behind this—and he would make sure they paid.

The first step was to search the camp, speak to the men who had come into contact with the envoy, and examine the food supplies once more. It wouldn’t be easy. But Li Wuxin had never been one to back down from a challenge. He had sworn to protect those under his care, and if it meant uncovering treachery in the process, so be it.

He walked swiftly toward the main gate, where a handful of soldiers were standing guard. They saluted him as he approached, but their faces showed signs of unease.

"Have you spoken to anyone who’s come in contact with the southern envoy?" Li Wuxin asked, his tone firm.

One of the soldiers hesitated before answering. "There was an envoy, yes. Came a week ago, with a strange request for an audience with the commander. He didn’t say much, just delivered a package. I remember him, though. He had those unusual green eyes."

Li Wuxin’s thoughts raced. This was the same envoy from before—the one who had caused the first stir in his mind.

"Did anyone else speak to him? Where did he go after his visit?"

The soldier shook his head. "He was with the commander for a while, but after that, we didn’t see him leave. We just assumed he was staying longer for further business."

Li Wuxin clenched his jaw. "I want a full report on everyone who interacted with him. Find every soldier, officer, or servant who might have had contact. No one is to leave until I say so."

The soldier nodded quickly, but Li Wuxin could see the fear in his eyes. He wasn’t the only one who was concerned.

As he made his way deeper into the camp, he began to notice the unease spreading like wildfire. Soldiers glanced over their shoulders, whispers floated through the air, and a strange, heavy tension clung to the atmosphere.

Li Wuxin’s pace quickened. He needed to find the answers, and he needed to do so before the situation spiraled any further out of control. His mind raced with the possibilities, but one thing was certain: whoever was behind this plot, they had made a grave mistake by underestimating him.

He would find them. And when he did, they would regret it.

The next few hours were a blur of questioning, examining food supplies, and sifting through records. Li Wuxin’s mind was focused, his every sense heightened. He couldn’t afford to let anything slip by him. The answers were out there, and it was only a matter of time before they surfaced.

By mid-afternoon, a pattern began to emerge. The envoy had not been the only one to arrive from the South—other suspicious figures had passed through the camp in the last few weeks. Some were disguised as traders, others as couriers, but all shared one thing in common: they had arrived under false pretenses.

Li Wuxin could feel the weight of the discovery settling into his chest. This wasn’t just a random act of sabotage. There was a coordinated effort at play here, and the implications were enormous.

He gathered the commander and the top officers in the main tent to discuss his findings.

"We’ve been infiltrated," Li Wuxin said, his voice low and controlled. "These ‘envoys’ were nothing more than spies or saboteurs. They’ve been in the camp longer than we thought, and they’ve been working to undermine us from the inside."

The commander’s face hardened. "Do you have proof?"

Li Wuxin nodded. "I’ve cross-referenced the arrivals and departures with the supplies and records. The food poisoning wasn’t an accident. It was deliberately planned. And the powder used, it wasn’t just some random herb. It’s a compound known to react violently with stomach acids."

The commander’s fists clenched. "Who would want to do this to us?"

"Someone who wants to weaken this camp," Li Wuxin replied, his eyes narrowed in focus. "Someone with a vested interest in seeing us fail."

There was a heavy silence as the group absorbed the weight of his words.

Li Wuxin’s mind raced. He had seen this before, the intricate, methodical way that these kinds of plots unfolded. And the more he uncovered, the clearer it became that this was just the beginning.

The enemy was already inside, and they were playing a dangerous game. But they had made one critical mistake: they had underestimated him.

He would find them, and when he did, they would know just how wrong they were.