In the days that followed, an oppressive gloom settled over the Imperial Palace. Daoist Bao Pu began frequenting Emperor Ying's sleeping quarters.
The hall was filled with Calming Incense, mixed with a putrid smell emanating from Emperor Ying's body, an unpleasant odor.
Emperor Ying itched and ached all over, unable to resist scratching himself, but even a slight touch broke the skin and caused pus to flow. Over time, the wounds showed no signs of healing and were instead severely inflamed.
He was on the verge of madness.
After the fire at Yangxin Hall, the Imperial Physicians were in despair, exhausting themselves to search through medical texts but failing to identify the root of Emperor Ying's illness, nervously admitting, "Our medical skills are lacking."
"Daoist Bao Pu."
The elderly Imperial Physician gazed at Daoist Bao Pu, "Did you not break the witchcraft? The box and dolls were destroyed, but why is His Majesty still not recovering?"
