Elderly courier Senn arrived at the tollhouse just after sunrise. Two local guides carried him on a stretcher made from a door plank. He was conscious, but each breath scraped in his throat.
Qinghe cleared a cot beside the examining table. “Lay him down slowly.”
One of the guides set a leather route pouch on the stool. “He carried this through the night.”
“Keep it there,” Senn said. “No one opens it until I can speak.”
The pouch stayed by his hand. Qinghe checked his pulse at the wrist and watched the movement in his chest. A forced cultivation backlash had damaged his channels during the Registry retreat. His breathing had worsened along the road, and the ordinary medicines at the tollhouse had not stopped it.
“He needs Returning Spring Palm,” Qinghe said to Yan. “I’ll watch the pulse and tell you when to shift.”
Yan moved to the cot. The art was familiar. He placed his palm at the first point she indicated and let the practiced movement pass through him. The healing reached Senn’s living body. The personal cost reversed into added years and vigor for Yan.
Senn’s breath caught, then settled. Yan felt the life gain flow into his arms and shoulders, and smiled when the elder’s chest began rising evenly.
