Chapter Ten: “The Duel of Threads and Blood”

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The announcement shattered the silence of the palace like a jade gong struck too hard.

A healer's duel.

Declared by Meiyun. Directed at Consort Ru.

Summoned in front of the court by the Emperor himself.

To accuse a consort of poisoning royalty? That was already suicide. To challenge her through an ancient rite only reserved for Imperial Physicians? That was war.

Yet Meiyun stood tall in the Hall of Cranes, wrapped in simple linen robes. Her hair was bound high, no ornaments. No symbols of station. Just fire in her eyes and a scroll in her hand.

Wei Lian watched from the edge of the dais, every muscle in his body locked in tension.

This was more than political.

This was personal.

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"You dare accuse me?" Consort Ru laughed, her voice soft and sharp, like a blade dipped in honey. "You? A girl with no clan. No name. No seat in court."

Meiyun lifted her chin. "Your Grace, I accuse no one. I challenge you. In the open. With the sacred rites that governed this court before either of us drew breath."

Murmurs rippled through the assembly.

The Grand Chancellor narrowed his eyes. "A healer's duel is sacred. Death is permitted. Are you prepared to bear that weight?"

Meiyun's voice rang out: "I am."

The Emperor said nothing. His eyes—dull and sunken—drifted to Ru, then Meiyun, as if weighing shadows against ghosts.

Finally, he raised a finger.

"The court will bear witness."

The words echoed like thunder.

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Two days later, the duel was held beneath the Jade Banyan Tree, where ancient healers once trained in open air.

A ring of royal observers formed a perfect circle. Ministers. Concubines. Even foreign envoys leaned forward with burning curiosity. The art of healing had become bloodsport.

In the center, two cushions. Two trays. Two patients: two blindfolded palace guards, equal in weight, age, and body condition. No names. No loyalties.

One would be treated by Ru.

One by Meiyun.

The test?

A complex, deadly poison brewed from seven rare herbs and one unknown agent—inflicted on both patients hours before. The first to cure her patient without side effects would win. If neither succeeded... the court would decide.

Meiyun knelt in silence, her tools before her: bronze needles, a cold compress stone, and the scorched scroll from the Forbidden Wing.

She had memorized every word.

She just had to survive them now.

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The duel began.

Consort Ru moved with elegance, like a dancer weaving through silk. She applied salves, punctured meridian points with gold-tipped needles, and summoned a tray of lotus essence reserved only for the Emperor's use.

Meiyun worked quietly, methodically.

She did not rush.

Instead of gold, she used simple copper. Instead of rare elixirs, she crushed dried goji root with a jade stone and mixed it with crushed pearl for the counter-serum described in her mother's scroll.

She closed her eyes and guided her patient's qi through her own palm.

Then—she did what no healer should do.

She poured her own inner pulse into him.

A mirror resonance.

Forbidden.

Deadly.

And exactly what her mother had done decades ago to save the First Queen from collapse.

Blood trickled from her nose. Her fingertips trembled.

But the man's breathing steadied.

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Ru saw the shift.

And for the first time, her calm cracked.

She forced more heat into her patient's veins—too much.

The man began to seize.

Meiyun didn't look up. She pressed two fingers behind the man's ear and whispered something only he could hear. A calming mantra. One her mother had sung to her under starlight after she burned her fingers learning how to grind lotus seeds.

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The final gong rang.

Judges stepped forward. Physicians checked pulses.

Ru's patient… had stabilized. But the toxin remained.

Meiyun's patient… clear. Heart steady. Qi aligned. Even his fever had broken.

Gasps exploded from the circle.

Ru turned pale.

The Emperor stirred on his throne, finally speaking for the first time.

"Let the record show," he said, "that Court Healer Meiyun has completed the duel. And won."

Then: "Consort Ru, submit to questioning."

A scream tore from Ru's throat. "Lies! Deception! That girl is no healer—she's a witch!"

She lunged, knife drawn from her sleeve.

But Wei Lian was faster.

Steel met silk. He blocked the blade with a fan—the royal sigil gleaming on its surface. His eyes, cold.

"You lost," he said. "And you lied. You'll face justice."

Ru collapsed, shrieking, restrained by guards.

The crowd parted. The court was silent.

And Meiyun, still bleeding, still kneeling, finally allowed herself to breathe.

---

Hours later, in her chambers, Wei Lian sat beside her, holding her bandaged hands.

"You almost died," he murmured.

"I still might," Meiyun replied. "That technique… it wasn't meant to be used twice."

He lifted her fingers. "Then don't use it again."

She laughed softly. "Is that an order, Your Highness?"

"No," he said, voice low. "That's a request."

She looked up.

And in that moment—despite the poison, the politics, the blood, and the fear—there was something tender between them.

A promise unspoken.

A future uncertain.

But finally possible.