Jianyang Prefecture, the clinic.

On one of two clean beds, Meng Xiuwen was pale, even his lips drained of color.

Once the strongest Demon-Slaying Officer in all of Great Nanzhou, he now looked half dead, and even his usual restless, joking manner had been reined in a little.

But compared with the figure on the other bed, he was in excellent shape.

The young man there was covered in gashes. White scales had surfaced on his face; he could barely keep his human form. A girl beside him, tears in her eyes, kept wiping him down with a towel, but the blood welling out between his scales would not be wiped away no matter what she did.

His eyes were wide open, staring blankly upward. Like a lamp out of oil, a candle guttering in the wind, he could stop breathing at any moment.

“Where are the pills!”

Seeing Zixian struggle to hold back her sobs, Meng Xiuwen couldn't help looking out of the room and shouting hoarsely.

Two runners came in quickly and said in low voices, “Lord Rain-Praying Envoy's injuries are too severe. The pills he needs have to be sent from the imperial capital. The prefecture office is already pressing them as hard as it can.”

“Pressing, pressing, pressing! By the time your pressing gets here, he'll be long dead!”

Meng Xiuwen gritted his teeth. The Rain-Praying Envoy might belong to one of the eight offices, but it was clearly nothing like the Demon-Slaying Office. The prefecture office had only asked the capital for pills at all because Ziyang had been hurt trying to stop the demon.

The two runners lowered their heads helplessly and slowly backed out.

“And you, honestly. Even if you came from the back of beyond, you can't not recognize a Taiyi immortal. What, did your brain break? All you do is pray for rain. When things looked bad, couldn't you have hidden first? You had to put yourself in the middle. Could you have held him off for even one breath?”

Meng Xiuwen pushed himself up and glared at the next bed…