Tong Shuxue had remained silent the entire time, simply watching. It was only when Zhao Jingyuan, overexerting himself, caused one of the electrode pads on his arm to tear loose that she stood up and walked over.
“That’s enough.”
Zhao Jingyuan lifted his head, his eyes bloodshot. “Enough of what?”
Tong Shuxue walked in front of him and crouched down. “I said that’s enough. Do you want to ruin everything you’ve worked for?”
Zhao Jingyuan froze.
“You think you’re helping them? Pushing yourself like this will only break your body down. Muscle strain, nerve damage, extended recovery time. At that point, forget three months—you won’t even stand up in three years. What will your elder brother do then? What about your birth mother?”
With every question she asked, Zhao Jingyuan’s face turned paler.
“I…”
Tong Shuxue stood up and took a fresh electrode pad from Dr. Jian’s hands. “If you want to save them, you must first ensure you recover. And to recover, you must listen to the doctor and proceed step by step. No rushing.”
She crouched back down beside Zhao Jingyuan and skillfully removed the loose pad from his arm.
Her fingers touched his skin—warm, with a strangely gentle softness.
Zhao Jingyuan’s body stiffened.
Since he could remember, no woman had ever touched him like this, except his mother and wet nurse.
On the battlefield, injuries were treated by military physicians—rough men who would never be so gentle.
Her fingers occasionally brushed his skin. The sensation was unfamiliar, but not unpleasant.
After finishing the last electrode pad, Tong Shuxue looked up at him. “Alright. Now follow Dr. Jian’s plan. Twice a day, thirty minutes each session. Not a minute more, not a minute less. Can you do that?”
Zhao Jingyuan looked at her face so close to his. Morning light fell across her eyelashes, casting a small shadow. Her gaze held no reproach—only calm patience as she waited for his answer.
In that moment, the turmoil and anger inside him strangely settled.
“I can.”
“Good. I’ll go check how Mo Shen and the others are cleaning up the battlefield. Keep training, and remember—no extra sessions in secret.”
With that, she turned and walked toward the cave.
Zhao Jingyuan watched her figure disappear into the entrance for a long time before finally withdrawing his gaze.
Dr. Jian restarted the electrical stimulation device, and the current surged through again, bringing that familiar aching soreness.
Zhao Jingyuan did not resist. He closed his eyes and followed Dr. Jian’s instructions, focusing his attention on the stimulated muscles, imagining his fingers moving again and again.
Once. Twice. Three times.
He did not know how long had passed when the current suddenly intensified again—and his right index finger twitched.
In that instant, Zhao Jingyuan felt as though his heart would leap out of his chest.
He opened his eyes and stared at his right hand. The index finger twitched again. This time it was more obvious—his knuckle bent about five degrees before snapping back.
His voice trembled. “Did… did you see that?”
Dr. Jian stared at the monitor, shock appearing on his face. “The neural signal strength suddenly increased by sixty percent! That’s impossible under normal conditions!”
But he quickly recovered and pulled up the recorded data from earlier.
On the screen, at that exact moment, there was for the first time a faint correlation between the neural electrical signals sent from Zhao Jingyuan’s brain and the actual movement of his finger.
“Again. Try to reproduce that feeling. Move your index finger again.”
Zhao Jingyuan took a deep breath and closed his eyes, concentrating all his attention on his right index finger.
Imagining it moving.
Once—failure.
Twice—failure.
The third time, as the current passed through again, his index finger twitched once more. This time it bent about ten degrees and remained so for half a second before snapping back.
Dr. Jian recorded the data. “Good. Maintain that feeling. Don’t force it—let it happen naturally.”
Zhao Jingyuan did not speak. He only stared at his finger, repeating the process over and over.
Failure, failure, occasional success.
Each success added a bit more hope inside him.
The training lasted half an hour. By the end, Zhao Jingyuan was completely drenched in sweat, slumped weakly in his wheelchair.
Dr. Jian turned off the device. “That’s it for the morning. We’ll do another session this afternoon. Remember—no extra training. Your muscles and nerves need time to recover.”
Zhao Jingyuan nodded.
Now he believed it—truly believed—what Tong Shuxue had said. He could not rush this.
Those few successful movements had made him understand this was not something brute force could solve. It required patience, skill, and time.
“I’ll prepare the afternoon nutrient solution.”
Dr. Jian packed up his equipment and left.
Zhao Jingyuan was left alone in the clearing.
The sun rose higher, the mist dispersed, and the valley became clearer. The water pool shimmered with rippling light, the distant forest was lush and green, and birds occasionally flew past, leaving trails of chirping calls.
It was a beautiful scene.
Yet Zhao Jingyuan felt heavy-hearted. He thought of the information Tong Shuxue had mentioned earlier—his maternal family being targeted, his cousin imprisoned, his elder brother surviving on thin porridge in the imperial prison.
His fists clenched unconsciously. Even though his fingers could not fully bend yet, the force transmitted into his palm.
He had to recover quickly.
He had to.
“Master.”
Mo Shen’s voice came from behind.
Zhao Jingyuan turned his head. Mo Shen carried the scent of forest soil, with a fresh scrape on his face.
“Is the battlefield cleaned up?”
Mo Shen nodded. “It’s done. As Miss Tong instructed, all the bodies were moved to the edge of the miasma forest. A batch of weapons and armor was collected. Commander Ling Wu said they can be melted down and reforged.”
He leaned closer and lowered his voice. “Also, there’s something else. Commander Ling Er went out to scout again this morning and found traces of new troop movements about thirty li outside the mountains. Not many—around a hundred men—but they are well-equipped. They look like elite forces.”
Zhao Jingyuan frowned. “Still coming for us?”
Mo Shen shook his head. “Not certain. Their route is strange. They are not heading straight for Wuzang Mountain, but circling the perimeter, as if… searching for something.”
Searching for something?
Zhao Jingyuan’s expression shifted slightly.
Could it be…
“What did Commander Ling Er say?”
“He has already followed them. He said he will send back a confirmed report tonight. He also told me to relay a message to Miss Tong and you—try not to leave the valley recently. The outside situation is unstable.”
Zhao Jingyuan nodded without speaking.
His gaze fell to his own hand—the index finger that had just moved. It now rested quietly on the wheelchair armrest, appearing no different from before.
“Mo Shen.“ he suddenly said.
“Your subordinate is here.”
“Tell the men to rest and recover quickly. Training must not stop. We may have a hard battle ahead.”
Mo Shen’s eyes lit up. “Master, does that mean—?”
“The Emperor will not give up. Three hundred men have gone missing; he will send more to investigate. We can hide here for a while, but not forever. Eventually, we will have to face it.”
He paused, then looked toward the distant mountains, his gaze deep and steady.
“Before that… I must stand up.”