“The same leaching…” Supervisor Meng pondered. “And you healed them with a forbidden technique? What did you heal exactly? Your insights might make it possible to discover the origin of the poison.”
“I’m not exactly sure what I healed,” Yue Bing said. “And I’m not sure if poison explains the tendrils of energy I saw.”
“Ah, so it’s the red tendrils again,” Supervisor Meng said, shaking his head with a smile. “It’s best not to think about them again.”
“But I saw them, I swear,” Yue Bing said indignantly.
“I don’t doubt that you saw them,” Supervisor Meng said. “But you need to realize that hallucinations aren’t uncommon when it comes to soul exhaustion. Now, I won’t ask the nature of your forbidden technique, but I know that it hurt you greatly. In fact, I wasn’t sure if you’d make it.
“A cultivator who’s suffered such severe soul damage has a twenty-eight percent, plus or minus two percent, chance of hallucinating, and that’s an empirical fact. Meanwhile, there’s nothing in my experience, nor the Spirit Doctor Association’s experience, for that matter, that matches what you saw. Save for blood arts, of course. But you would be unable to see these things without practicing blood arts yourself, and blood arts need a cultivator as a medium to manifest. I think a poison is far more likely.”
“Did you even ask those old fogies?” Yue Bing muttered.
“Yes, I did,” Supervisor Meng said. “If it was anyone else who made those claims, I wouldn’t have. But as my most competent medic, I gave you the benefit of the doubt. My teacher personally investigated this matter, and he said what you described doesn’t exist. Aside from blood magic, there’s nothing in the Southern Alliance capable of this.”
He shook his head. “What you saw was a hallucination. Both the Spirit Doctor Association and the Alchemists Association have determined that it’s likely a poison, and they’ve already deployed the continent’s foremost poison expert to investigate. He’s out surveying the battlefield as we speak.”
“They just seemed so real,” Yue Bing said, sighing. “Those ghostly tendrils seemed less like a poison and more like appendages of some strange creature. They were hungry, and I could feel myself weakening just from being in the same room.”
“It’s only natural that you felt that way,” Supervisor Meng said. “Hallucinations tend to anchor themselves to real experiences. For example, you noticed their vitality slipping, which is a fact. Your mind must have needed to rationalize this, so it made up something believable. Given that you’d just seen your first battle with blood cultivators…”
Seeing Yue Bing’s unconvinced expression, he placed his wrinkly hand on her shoulder. “You need to forget what you saw and focus on real things,” he said. “You’re preoccupied with the imaginary to the point that it’s preventing you from doing what’s most important: healing. So here’s my advice: Go to the infirmary and find the least wounded patient. Find him and heal him. Once you’re comfortable with that, move on to a slightly more wounded one. Continue doing this until you can comfortably heal at the same level as you could before the incident, and you’ll find that the instability in your healing arts was just in your mind. Before you know it, you’ll have forgotten those red tendrils. You’ll find the idea of them laughable.”
“I think I will do that,” Yue Bing said, putting up a fake smile. There was no way she could tell him the truth about the nature of her forbidden technique or the special medium that she used.
If he knew, he’d probably treat me like a monster, she thought. I can only prod him in the right direction. Only then will he discover the truth. She finished her tea and stood up to leave. Yet, just as she did, she heard a small commotion outside the door. Supervisor Meng frowned and waved it open, revealing twenty armed men hiding behind a man in tattered robes.
The man was unlike any Yue Bing had ever seen. A repressive, even threatening aura surrounded him, making it no wonder that all the guards held their weapons toward him. Despite this aggression, he seemed unconcerned, even amused, at the situation. It was like the soldiers weren’t even a hint of a threat to him, like small puppies baring their teeth at an alpha wolf.
“You may all stand down,” Dr. Meng said gravely. The guards seemed unconvinced. “Don’t worry, I know him. He won’t harm us unless you all do something stupid.”
The guards stiffly bowed and left, leaving him at the entrance. Yue Bing took the opportunity to evaluate the man, who, despite his unkempt appearance, seemed like a king in his own palace. He was thin and young looking, despite the prominent strands of white hair that filled his head of long black hair. Hair not unlike hers. The look in his eyes gave off centuries of experience, and the nebulous nature of his soul made it clear to Yue Bing that he was a peak existence on the continent, a core-formation cultivator.
“Please have a seat,” Dr. Meng said, motioning to a chair. The man quietly walked over and sat down at his invitation. Then, Dr. Meng poured him a cup of tea. Oddly enough, he didn’t pour one for himself or Yue Bing. “Yue Bing, this is the poison master I spoke of, Zhou Bei. He traveled here from Quicksilver City and is the foremost expert on poisons on the continent.”
Yue Bing had heard this name before. A short time ago, the king of the Song Kingdom had been poisoned, and her master and Zhou Bei had collaborated to cure him.
As though realizing the same thing, Zhou Bei’s eyes flickered to her, and his cold expression softened. “Ah, yes, I remember hearing about you in Quicksilver. Your master did most of the heavy lifting when we collaborated in a recent case. Your king would have died if he hadn’t detected my mistake.”
Yue Bing flushed in embarrassment, but Zhou Bei seemed not to notice this. He looked back to Dr. Meng with his previously cold expression. “I came here as instructed, and I’m afraid you’re mistaken. There is no such poison in the battlefield.”
Dr. Meng frowned. “Are you sure you checked properly? As a poison master, you surely understand that many insidious poisons can go by undetected.”
“Ah, yes, how could I have forgotten,” Zhou Bei said mockingly. “It’s a good thing that a lofty spirit doctor is here to correct my ignorance. It seems that my life’s work in poison-making and detection has been in vain.”
Like blood masters, poison masters were also reviled on the continent. The Spirit Doctor Association was particularly aggressive toward these two professions.
“Please, Grandmaster Zhou, I’m sure he was only concerned about the soldiers,” Yue Bing said, aiming to ease up the tension.
Zhou Bei glanced at her slightly before lessening the invisible pressure that had been unleashed on the doctor when his anger flared. Supervisor Meng let out a sigh of relief.
“I’ve been wrong about poison three times in my life,” Zhou Bei said. “The first time was when I consumed a lethal poison at the tender age of nine. I thought it would end my sickly life, but to my surprise, it was devoured by my innate poison constitution and brought me back to full health. The second time was when I was a foundation-establishment expert. I made a single mistake in curing a patient by overestimating his tolerance to a therapeutic poison, and your distrustful spirit doctors pounced on me and tried to banish me. If I wasn’t half as capable as I was then, you’d likely have killed me.
“The third time was when I failed to detect qi-binding venom, a poison so rare on this plane that it could produce a thimble in a thousand years. It was used to poison a king, for only such an important person was worthy of such an item.
“You may not know this, but I have consumed tens of thousands of poisons native to this plane, and tens of thousands more that I’ve personally synthesized. I recognize their taste and smells and can detect even the slightest amounts. I’ve witnessed natural poisons in all their splendor, and I’ve even glimpsed legendary living poisons. If I say poison didn’t do this, then the chances that I am wrong are meager at best.”
Dr. Meng gulped. “Then if not poison, what?” he said in the most respec
tful voice he could muster.
“On account of the lass here, I’ll tell you what I’ve guessed,” Zhou Bei said. “Something is causing their life force to diminish, but it didn’t disappear. Rather, it seemed like it was being siphoned.” He tapped his chin softly. “If I’m not mistaken, there’s something out there that’s capable of escaping the detection of a core-formation cultivator. It’s big, capable of attacking thousands of soldiers simultaneously. Moreover, it’s patient. The moment it spotted my spying, it stopped what it was doing immediately. I was unable to probe further.”
“You’re making it sound like there’s a monster out there,” Dr. Meng said.
“A monster?” Zhou Bei said. “Perhaps. I know it’s not a poison. Whatever it is, whatever it does, it’s alive. And it’s hungry.”
Yue Bing shivered when she heard this. Memories of the red tendrils appeared in her mind unbidden. The wriggled as they fed and shied away as she approached. They wailed in pain as she waved her staff. A monster was killing their soldiers, and thus far, she was the only one who could see it.
Chapter 8
The terrain blurred in Zi Long’s peripheral vision as he hurried along the empire road. To his right was a vast plain that seemed to stretch on endlessly, and to his left was a vibrant forest. It was a demarcation of sorts. An unofficial border between civilization and the wild. Within these woods, the laws of the Quicksilver Kingdom would no longer be enforced. Only the law of the jungle would prevail.
A flat road meandered before him, and he followed it religiously. Only by focusing on the road ahead could he escape his mounting fatigue.
If only Xuehua were here, he thought as he stabilized his flying sword for the fifth time that morning. He thought of her cold and detached face. Her blind eyes which saw more than most.
A memory came to mind unbidden. A memory of her slashing swords and raindrops in a clearing. A memory of snow and metal, of ice-cold perfection. It was an entrancing dance, one that could distract him for hours. One that he didn’t dare dream of while traveling on his flying swords.
He pushed that thought out of his mind and noticed the scenery changing. The woods were drawing closer to the road, making it the perfect location for an ambush. An ambush, he thought. His mind drifted to a sealed memory, one of carnage and horror. Of his brother, blocking deadly blows with his massive blade. Of hundreds dying and rivers of blood flowing. Of that ice-cold but beautiful stare when he woke.
Focus, he thought once again, inspecting the clearing. The shadows were long, as the sun was setting. Most people, cultivators or otherwise, would either be setting up camp or pushing to cover a few more miles before resting. Not only was it the perfect time for an ambush, but the perfect place for an ambush.
Another memory came unbidden. Once, they’d ambushed a group of devil cultivators in just this situation. It wasn’t a glorious battle, but it was an efficient one. They’d hacked down those monsters in no time at all.
Focus. His awareness returned as his body hit the ground with a groggy thud. It took him a few moments to realize that he’d lost control of his flying sword and fallen. When did my soul become so exhausted? Zi Long wondered blearily. And when did it become so difficult to focus?
He looked around and saw nothing but fallen leaves and long dry grass. Judging by this alone, he must have drifted off course. He pushed the urge to sleep out of his mind as he put his hand to his aching head. The copious amounts of blood on his hand indicated that he’d hit his head on a rock during the fall, too distracted to put up a qi shield to defend himself.
His hand trembled as he reached into his bag of holding and popped a minor healing pill. As the trickle of blood slowed, he evaluated his current situation. I’m alone and exhausted, he thought. I’ve been traveling for two weeks, but only in three-day spurts. The last time I rested was the day before yesterday. His eyes narrowed. I shouldn’t be reaching my limits. Not yet.
Exhausted as he was, he cast out his incandescent force. It illuminated his surroundings in his mind’s eye, and he immediately noticed an anomaly. There were five living creatures in the area, each within fifty feet of him. And they were drawing closer.
One at middle foundation establishment, four at early foundation establishment, he calculated. However, they have the element of surprise. They’ve obviously attacked my soul directly, and they didn’t kill me when I first hit the ground. That could only mean one thing: They wanted him alive.
His vision blurred once more. He heard rustling feet and felt cold hands. Colder manacles slipped onto his skinny wrists as a cloth bag was slipped over his head, and soon he found himself being carried into the wilderness. A collar clamped tightly around the bag, and his incandescent sight dimmed.
Hours passed as they carried him through the woods, blind as a newborn child. Only his sense of smell was unaffected, but his assailants smelled surprisingly clean and pure, like the freshest spring rain.
They gave no warning before they tossed him onto a wooden floor and removed his hood. He squinted at the sudden introduction of light and noticed that he was locked in a wooden cage along with another dozen cultivators. A small campfire burned a short distance away. Five cultivators sat there, glancing his way as the ones who’d locked him up walked over. He couldn’t hear anything, so they were clearly speaking mentally. However, he didn’t need to hear them to understand the situation.
Zi Long’s eyes glowed jade green. His surroundings went gray, leaving only a pale-green glow on his fellow prisoners and a thick green halo on his own body. He felt a slight sting as he activated his Eyes of Pure Jade, the first portion of the Devil-Sealing Scripture. Sure as rain, the ten-person group who’d captured him glowed ochre. They weren’t ordinary cultivators; they were fully fledged devils. And judging by their attractive features and the mental attack he’d suffered earlier, they were water-aligned lust devils.
Just what I need, Zi Long grumbled inwardly. It wasn’t the first time he’d tussled with their kind, but it was definitely his first time doing so alone and without the element of surprise. He inspected the manacles that bound his qi and noticed no defects he could take advantage of. Then he directed his attention to the tight collar they’d clamped around his neck. It was a soul choker, a device that firmly sealed his incandescent force away.
He glanced to the other prisoners, who were pale and shivering. They were suffering from soul exhaustion, which wasn’t odd considering the identity of their captors.
At least they won’t be killing us off anytime soon, he thought. They, the captives, were cattle. Their captors were higher beings, siphoning the souls of their prey the way humans ate what they saw as lesser animals.
The other prisoners averted their eyes as he sat himself upright against the cage wall, reducing the pressure between his wrists and his manacles. “How long have you been here?” he asked softly.
They didn’t reply. In such a situation, human connections were both a blessing and a curse. The more you cared about your fellow captives, the greater the toll would be when they finally perished.
“Can you remember who you are or where you’re from?”
Their eyes shifted, but still, no one answered.
They might be too far gone, he thought. He turned his attention to the soul choker, but before he could inspect it, his cellmates shivered. He followed their eyes to a skinny man with three-inch-long blue hair approaching from the campfire.
“It’s nice to finally get some fresh meat,” the man said with a toothy grin. His teeth were filed, and his alabaster skin was covered in lewd and sinister tattoos. He pulled out a metal key and unlocked the “wooden” door, which opened with a metallic clank. For all Zi Long knew, the prison was also an illusion. There could be as many as twenty devils or as few as three. Illusions were commonplace among this variety of devils, who loved nothing more than to trick and torment their prey.
The man walked inside and swept his eyes over the shivering prisoners. “They’re not ready for a meal, b
ut you’ll make a fine dining companion,” he said. “Luckily, it’s my turn to feed. Now be nice and don’t resist.”
A clawed hand reached out and grasped Zi Long by the neck as it pressed against his windpipe. Although his incandescent force had retreated to his spiritual sea, a mysterious force reached into him and slowly siphoned it away.
“It’s been so long since I’ve tasted such a delicate flavor,” the devil said. “So rich and full of merit. If I could taste you ever day, I’d die a happy man.”
“How rich of you… calling yourself a man…” Zi Long choked out as he struggled to breathe.
The devil grinned. “Are we really any different than men? The only difference between us and humans is that we’re honest about what we are. We’re also clearest about what you are—food.” The draining continued, and as much as Zi Long tried to resist, it wasn’t long before half of his incandescent force was gone.
At this point, the devil threw him down, leaving him gasping for breath. “Just stay here and behave, food,” he said. Then he walked back to the campfire to join his comrades.
“That’s all we are to them,” said a woman from the back of the prisoners. “We’re cattle, to be milked every day or so at their convenience.” Though she was pale like the others, her eyes weren’t as listless. Her gaze still held a stubborn dignity that was difficult to ignore. “I’m Su Shan, a cultivator from Violet City.”
“Zi Long, from the Song Kingdom,” Zi Long said weakly, sitting up to recover his lost soul force. Every breath he took hurt as it traveled down his damaged windpipe. “I’m surprised these devils dare to act so brazenly so close to the Violet Heart Sect.”
“I’m surprised as well,” Su Shan admitted. “It all started a few weeks ago. There were only small incidents at first, so my father sent me to investigate. Before I knew it, our entire group was captured. Only three of us have survived since then. These people came later.”
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