Crown Prince of the Empire, I quit!

Her words were like a cold boulder smashing into stagnant water. There was dead silence, followed by silent fear.

Despair spread, even more severe than the cold in the north.

Changbai Mountain is half leaning on the remains of a slightly thicker earth wall in the distance.

The coldness of the earth and rocks penetrated through the torn and blood-stained clothes and armor, and seeped into the cracks between the bones.

Liu Yueli's voice penetrated the turbid air, and every word was like an icy spike hitting his tense heartstrings.

"The enemy used poison."

Qin Ming's warning came to Li Zuoyou through intermittent telegraph signals.

Chang Baishan still had a glimmer of hope, thinking that he had strong internal energy to protect him and might be able to get through it.

At this moment, looking at the swaying figure in front of Liu Yueli's tent and listening to the order that suppressed despair, all hope was shattered in an instant and sank into the cold dark abyss.

An unbearable tingling sensation came from my arm.

He suddenly gripped his forearm with his other hand, using such force that his knuckles turned white in an instant, trying to suppress the itchiness that was gnawing at his bones and marrow.

My vision felt heavy, and my eyelids felt as if they were hung with lead weights.

He blinked hard, his gaze passing over the chaotic and dilapidated camp and into the distance.

At the end of the sight is a piece of diseased scorched earth, which was also the abandoned ridge outside the Zhujiabao granary.

The patrol team dispatched by the Northern Wise King was like a black ghost, patrolling far away outside the invisible isolation line.

They were wearing thick black leather armor that covered even their heads and faces.

Only gaps are left for the eyes.

The soldiers' actions revealed an extreme caution and disgust, as if the ridge of the field was the boundary of a man-eating swamp.

On a soldier's long-handled fork was a stiff corpse wrapped in sackcloth, with its limbs twisted into strange angles.

The ashen color and twisted posture were so similar to the flesh sores that appeared on Yang Erzhu's neck!

The soldier threw the body far into the depths of the depression on the east side, which was filled with gray water vapor, as if he was throwing away a ball of extremely filthy garbage.

There was a dull thud, startling several crows from the dead trees.

Looking at the black-armored soldiers whose movements were as stiff as puppets, Chang Baishan clenched his forearm fingers, and suddenly burst out with amazing strength, his nails digging deeply into the flesh of his arm.

It's as if I'm digging into my bones to remove the itchy itch that's gnawing at my bones!

Just then a gust of wind swirled through the ruins of the camp, carrying with it an indescribable mixture of sweet and pungent limewater.

Chang Baishan's body suddenly stiffened.

The wind whistled around the camp, picking up the ashes and grass clippings on the ground and carrying the sweet and decaying smell into every corner.

The gray twilight fell silently, painting the camp and the dead field ridges in the distance a dull leaden color.

The only broken iron pot at the edge of the refugee camp was placed on a few charred stones.

There was a sporadic charcoal fire hanging at the bottom of the pot, emitting a faint reddish glow.

Liu Yueli's face was almost pale.

She bit her lower lip tightly, her eyes fixed on the small piece of gray herbs swirling in the pot. The soup in the pot was turbid and exuded an extremely strong and bitter smell mixed with the pungent smell of some kind of root.

The few bundles of herbs left in the camp had been checked countless times, and the only ones that could be used in the pot were substitutes with weak efficacy and severe side effects.

At her feet lay the scout named Yang Erzhu.

By this time, he had long since lost the ability to make any sound. His eyes were barely open, his pupils dark and murky, devoid of any spirit. The flesh sores covering his neck and arms were festering like melted wax.

The pus and blood were as thick as black asphalt.

Several people with similar symptoms as him huddled in the mud a few feet away, their bodies twitching and shivering.

With every twitch, a disgusting dark red mucus oozed from the ulcerated area.

Liu Yueli looked at the pot of medicinal soup of questionable efficacy, then looked at the figures struggling on the ground like torn bags, her chest felt so blocked that she couldn't breathe.

The suppressed coughs and groans in the camp were like fine needles, piercing her nerves one by one.

"Cough... cough cough..." An uncontrollable choking cough came from the side.

Liu Yueli turned her head.

Chang Baishan had dragged himself to the edge of the pot at some point, leaning against a tilted, charred wooden pillar, barely supporting himself.

The hard lines on his face were stretched tight in the dim light, and a layer of sweat the size of beans appeared on his forehead.

The right hand that was used to holding a heavy sword and was once strong and powerful was now tightly grasping the forearm. Because of excessive force, the whole arm was shaking slightly uncontrollably.

He tried to straighten his back, but his upright posture made him look like a rapidly weathering stone tablet that was about to break.

Liu Yueli's heart sank suddenly.

She quickly squatted down and, almost forcingly, grabbed Chang Baishan's hand that was tightly holding his forearm.

It's icy cold to the touch, but burning hot beneath the skin!

She unceremoniously rolled up half of his sleeve, which was already soaked in blood and mud.

The muscles of his forearms were still strong, but on the skin with old wounds, there were a few dark red dots the size of rice grains, which could be almost ignored if you didn't look carefully!

Chang Baishan tried to pull his arm back with force.

Liu Yueli's nails dug into his tight forearm muscles, pinching them so tightly!

"When did it start?"

Liu Yueli's voice was so soft that it was almost drowned out by the crackling of the charcoal fire at the bottom of the pot, but inside it was churning with a chill that could freeze a person to death.

Chang Baishan gasped heavily for a few times, and met Liu Yueli's eyes that were burning with anger and fear. The disguise he tried to maintain shattered like thin ice.

"cough…"

He coughed again, his lips moved twice, and in the end only two hoarse and muddy syllables came out.

"Last...ahem...night."

A violent coughing fit came over him, and Chang Baishan's tall body hunched down like a torn sail blown to its limit by the strong wind.

Liu Yueli let go of her hand, her face pale as a ghost.

Without another glance at him, she suddenly stood up and rushed to the broken pot. The medicine in the iron pot was bubbling, and the turbid bubbles burst, emitting a bitter medicinal smell that seemed to carry a hint of death.

She suddenly used the small curved knife in her hand, which had scraped through the mud and pierced the broken bones, as a scoop.

This was picked up from a dead soldier of the Northern Sage King.

A spoonful of boiling hot medicine was roughly poured into a small clay medicine jar next to it, which was also blackened and had deformed edges.

The jar was so small that it seemed only enough for one person to drink two or three sips.

Her hand was burned red by the scalding medicine, but Liu Yueli was completely unaware.

She held the jar of boiling hot medicine in both hands, turned around and rushed to Chang Baishan. The jar was irresistibly stuffed directly to Chang Baishan's slightly trembling lips with sporadic red spots!

"Drink it!"