The heavy silence that followed Mu Feichi's vow was more terrifying than the roar of the mortar fire had been. In the dim, red emergency light of the medical bay, he stood like a resurrected titan. The violet tint in his eyes—a physiological anomaly caused by the toxin's interaction with his hyper-adrenalized state—gave him a predatory, unearthly look.
Shen Xi felt the searing heat radiating from his skin. Her own heart was still thundering, the adrenaline of the "Neural Decoupling" procedure refusing to subside. She looked at the hand Mu Feichi had used to snap the mercenary's neck; it was steady, the tremors of the ghost poison replaced by a terrifying, cold precision.
"Marshal, your vitals—" Shen Xi started, her voice raspy from the smoke, but she was cut off as he pulled her closer, his gaze locked on the crimson staining her shoulder.
"The vitals can wait," Mu Feichi said, his voice a low, dangerous vibration. "Qi Yuan! Feng Rui!"
The two adjutants, along with a squad of elite Shadow Guards, stormed through the ruined doorway. They stopped dead, their eyes widening at the sight of the Young Marshal standing tall, holding the blood-stained girl against his chest. The air in the room was so thick with his killing intent that several soldiers instinctively lowered their gazes.
"Marshal! You're..." Feng Rui stammered, his face pale.
"Secure the fortress," Mu Feichi commanded, ignoring the shock. "I want a total blackout on Mount Jing. No signals in, no signals out. If the capital thinks I'm dead, let them celebrate for an hour. It will make their fall more spectacular."
"And the mercenaries outside?" Qi Yuan asked, his hand on his sidearm.
"Exterminate them," Mu Feichi said flatly. "I don't want prisoners. I want a message sent to the Han and Si families. If they want to play with neurotoxins, I'll show them what a real nightmare looks like."
The Surgeon's Price
As the soldiers scrambled to execute his orders, Mu Feichi lifted Shen Xi effortlessly, carrying her toward a clean examination table away from the wreckage. He sat her down, his movements surprisingly gentle despite the raw power rolling off him.
"I need to dress your wound," he murmured.
"I'm a doctor, Mu Feichi. I can do it myself," Shen Xi countered, though her fingers trembled as she reached for the medical kit.
He caught her wrist, his grip like a velvet-lined iron shackle. "In this room, you are my patient. Sit still."
He took a pair of surgical scissors and precisely cut away the ruined silk of her gown, exposing the shrapnel graze. His eyes darkened as he saw the jagged metal fragment still embedded in her porcelain skin. Without a word, he picked up a pair of sterilized tweezers.
"This will hurt," he warned.
"I've felt worse," she replied, her eyes meeting his.
As he extracted the shrapnel, Shen Xi didn't make a sound, but her knuckles turned white as she gripped the edge of the table. Mu Feichi's focus was absolute. For a man who ruled the nation's military, he handled the bandage with the delicacy of a jeweler.
"The ghost poison... it hasn't just disappeared," Shen Xi whispered, watching him. "It's been suppressed by your autonomic nervous system. Your blood pressure is abnormally high, and your body temperature is nearly 40°C. You are pushing your limits, Mu Feichi."
"Then stay close to me, Doctor," he said, his thumb tracing the edge of the bandage. "You're the only one who knows how to keep the 'machine' from exploding."
The Strategic Counterstrike
By the time the moon hung high over the mountains, Mount Jing was a fortress of silence. In the command center, Chen Yichen and Jiang Chenhuan had arrived. The air was thick with the scent of high-grade tobacco and the humming of servers.
"Han Haotian has already contacted the Si family," Jiang Chenhuan reported, tapping a screen. "They're preparing to celebrate at the Imperial Club. They think the 'Ghost Pulse' worked. They've even invited Si Weixuan to witness the "changing of the guard' in the capital."
Chen Yichen looked at the stock market tickers on his laptop. "The Han family is moving to absorb the Yun family's old pharmaceutical stocks tonight. They think the Young Marshal's death will trigger a market panic they can exploit."
Mu Feichi walked into the room, now dressed in a fresh, olive-green military uniform, the collar buttoned high. The violet hue in his eyes had faded back to grey, but the intensity remained. Beside him, Shen Xi stood with her arm in a sleek black sling, her face a mask of cold indifference.
"Let them celebrate," Mu Feichi said, his voice echoing in the war room. "Yichen, prepare the acquisition orders for the Han Group. We aren't just going to stop them; we're going to erase them. Chenhuan, get the car ready. We're going to the Imperial Club."
"Sir? You're going there in person?" Feng Rui asked, shocked.
"They wanted to see a god bleed," Mu Feichi said, a dark, predatory smile touching his lips as he looked at Shen Xi. "It's only fair I show them that I'm still standing—and that I've brought the person who will be their undoing."
He turned to Shen Xi, offering his arm. "Ready to collect that debt, Miss Shen?"
Shen Xi placed her hand on his sleeve, her eyes flashing with a lethal light. "I've been waiting for this since the day I was cast out into the mud."