The road had long since vanished.
There was no path now—just earth and grass, rocks biting into the soles of her shoes and thorned bushes tugging at her already torn robes.
Hua Jing stumbled again.
Her legs ached. Her ankles were raw from walking. Her mouth was dry, and her back was slick with sweat despite the biting morning cold. Every breath burned. But she did not stop.
She could not stop.
Zhao Yan needed her.
The horizon had turned pale. A wash of grey and dull pink as dawn broke over the hills.
She hadn't slept.
Not even for a second.
There had been no place to. And more than that—there had been no time. Not when she could feel the sun rising like a knife at her back. Not when she could feel every passing moment as a nail in the coffin of the man she loved.
Zhao Ling Xu's voice still rang in her ears:
"If the poison reaches his heart before noon, he will not survive."
