“You know I’ll have to report you if you go,” a voice said from behind her.
She looked back and saw Gu Guo.
“Just come back with me, and we’ll pretend you never planned this.”
“We’re not useful here,” Yue Bing said, shaking her head and looking intently at the marching soldiers. “Patients don’t last long enough for us to treat them. Rather than being held back by a turtle with poison paranoia, I’m going out there to do what I do best.”
Gu Guo shook his head. “If you knew more about Supervisor Meng, you’d think differently. He lost two apprentice brothers to poison masters, so he sees poison everywhere he goes. Yet despite his misgivings against them, he had Poison Master Zhou come out here for an inspection.”
“Only to reject his advice,” Yue Bing shot back. “And mine. I told Supervisor Meng several times that I saw something. There’s a living creature out there, and it’s draining the soldiers dry. If we don’t do something fast, there’ll be no one left to heal.” She bit her lip. “Now are you going to blow the whistle on me, or am I free to go?”
Gu Guo sighed. “You know I can’t bring myself to rat you out. But be careful out there. The army won’t take kindly to your insubordination.”
“They don’t know I’m acting alone,” Yue Bing said. “Not yet.” She stepped into the shadows and took out a dark talisman. This special talisman had been crafted by her master with the assistance of his demonic companion. Black lines of dark energy expanded as she poured in her incandescent force; they migrated from the slip of paper and onto her skin, her robes, and her hair. They covered every inch of her body as it merged with the shadows. Once their melding was complete, a black-and-white world appeared before her.
“Stick to the shadows and you’ll be fine,” she mumbled, her voice inaudible to all but her. Her fleeting and distorted figure moved lithely as it flittered between patches of “light.” These bright islands were exactly where they should be—at the base of buildings, next to walls, and next to people. Darkness covered everything else, like open spaces and rooms with torches. In this world, black and white were inverted.
The difficult part is timing their steps, Yue Bing thought as she approached the gate. Black figures walked through, but white patches roiled in the sea of blackness with each footstep. She took a deep breath and dove into the churning bright world, carefully contorting her incorporeal body to limit exposure to the patches of blackness.
She sighed in relief as the guards reached the wall. She crawled onto its bright stone surface and sped down the corridor by taking advantage of the relative whiteness of the ceiling. Torches of pure shadow threatened to reveal her presence, but she skillfully avoided these by compressing herself through the dimly lit areas between them.
Finally, the tunnel opened into a well-lit patch. It wasn’t yet night, so the runic lights hadn’t been activated. Yue Bing used the remainder of her talisman’s power to speed through to the end of the white shadow formed by the setting sun.
Her blue-robed figure appeared a mile out from the wall. She reoriented herself before moving toward a military encampment in the distance.
Grim-faced men welcomed Yue Bing into the camp. Though most of them were at least peak-qi-condensation cultivators, the confidence that normally accompanied them was nowhere to be found. She knew the cause. How could anyone be comfortable fighting when a papercut could prove fatal? As she walked, sounds of dissent and barely veiled conversations about desertion blared around her.
If I can hear them, the generals certainly can, she thought, assessing the situation. Has it gotten so bad that even the they approve of their mutinous actions? Or is it simply too difficult to punish the few when the many are guilty?
Gambling and drinking, things usually banned in military encampments, were everywhere. Not only did the officers not reprimand these offending soldiers, they even encouraged their behavior and joined them. Anything to banish the dread festering in their uncertain ranks.
It wasn’t long before she arrived at a large tent. “Dr. Yue is here to greet General Lai,” she said to the guards manning it.
“Let her in,” a voice commanded the soldiers, who parted.
Yue Bing walked into the spacious abode, where a middle-aged general was working on battle plans, paperwork, and calculations. He continued his work for a few minutes before looking up.
“What brings Dr. Yue here today?” General Lai said. “I was under the impression that spirit doctors were forbidden from joining the front line. Has this changed?”
“It hasn’t,” Yue Bing replied.
“Then why are you here?” General Lai asked, putting his pen down and looking up at her sternly. “Defying orders is a very serious matter, something punishable by flogging or even death in some cases.”
“I’m not technically part of the military, so this isn’t actual military insubordination,” Yue Bing pointed out. “At most, I’ve committed a contractual offense, punishable by fines and sanctions.”
“Duly noted,” General Lai said. “But one spirit doctor isn’t going to make a difference when hundreds, if not thousands, of soldiers are wounded in every battle. Moreover, you’re here against your master’s orders. Even a hint of insubordination is more than we can tolerate, given the circumstances.”
“I understand,” Yue Bing said. “But I didn’t come here to treat your wounded. Rather, I have something important to report regarding the strange occurrences on the battlefield.”
“Have you reported it to Dr. Meng?” General Lai asked.
Yue Bing grimaced. “I have, but I’m afraid he wasn’t interested in listening. Something about poison masters behind our lines, poison masters in the field. Hell, I’m sure he sees poison masters beneath our beds. I have no choice but to look for a second opinion; men’s lives are at stake.”
General Lai sighed. “Go ahead, then,” he said, motioning to a seat in front of him. “But consider that my time is very limited. If your matter fails to be sufficiently important, I’ll be forced to request that you be disciplined. Regardless of what happens, I’ll need to inform your supervisor.”
“I understand,” Yue Bing said. “A few weeks ago, during the first strange attack, I was at a field hospital treating soldiers. There were many wounded, so all of us worked tirelessly to treat as many of them as possible. Unfortunately, like many others, they succumbed to soul exhaustion.”
“A common occurrence,” General Lai said.
“A common occurrence,” Yue Bing agreed. “I’ve suffered from soul exhaustion many times before. But this time was different from the others. Though my vision deteriorated as a result, this state of exhaustion seemed to sharpen some other senses. The moment my patients’ vitality started fading, I saw mysterious red tendrils leeching away their vitality. I don’t know where the vital energy was taken to, all I know is that it went underground. And these red tendrils—they’re what’s responsible.”
The general raised his eyebrow.
“Frustrated, I lashed out with a special technique and destroyed these tendrils. I strained my soul in the process, resulting in a coma. However, it’s a fact that my medic tent was the only one with no deaths. While Dr. Meng might be willing to dismiss what I saw as a hallucination, I see things differently. And as Poison Master Zhou pointed out, it’s not poisons we’re dealing with, but rather a living entity.”
“Did he now?” General Lai said, tapping an ink brush on his desk. “Dr. Meng failed to report this. Or your findings. All he said was that Poison Master Zhou found no poison. Despite this, he insisted that it was poison that had gone undetected, and we’ve been running our troops with that assumption, despite our misgivings.”
Yue Bing frowned. “Spirit doctors are prejudiced against poison masters, but such heavy skepticism is unprofessional.”
“Agreed,” General Lai said. “But Zhou Bei’s legal track record isn’t stellar. How can I take his word over Dr. Meng’s?”
“How can you afford t
o take Dr. Meng’s advice when good men are dying?” Yue Bing shot back, her eyes reddening slightly. “I know what I saw, and I know I will see it again. Thousands have died to this thing. Are you really going to take the word of a paranoid doctor over mine if there’s even the slightest chance that I’m right?”
General Lai stared at her for a few moments. Despite his calm expression, she could see his fists clenching and unclenching, a telltale sign of pent-up frustration. The Reaper, as the men had begun to call it, had taken far too many lives.
“Come with me,” he said finally. He pulled Yue Bing outside the tent and motioned for a red-caped man joined them. A colonel, judging by the man’s garb. “Colonel Fa, please gather all information pertaining to the first round of deaths culled by the Reaper.”
“Right away, sir,” the man said.
General Lai led Yue Bing to the infirmary, where a dozen wounded soldiers were being treated using bandages and field medicines.
“Stop treating them,” he commanded. The soldiers hesitated before doing as he said. General Lai walked before the dozen wounded soldiers, who stood at attention. As a foundation-establishment cultivator, he was the strongest man in this encampment. But at this moment, he displayed hesitation that was uncharacteristic of the stoic general.
“Tell me, are you all loyal to the king?” the general asked.
“Unfailingly so!” they answered in unison.
“If it came down to it, would you lay your life down for your brother?” General Lai asked again.
“Without hesitation!” they answered.
“That’s good,” General Lai said in a gratified voice, “because what I will ask of you isn’t easy. You’ve lost many brothers over the past few weeks, so it’s reassuring to see dedicated men like you.” He paused. “We need to do everything we can to stop this invisible enemy. And from what we’ve seen, it only appears when men have been wounded. We have a theory on the origin of the Reaper. However, we need to confirm it. And for that, we need some severely wounded men. You understand my predicament, right?” They shuffled uncomfortably. “I’m looking for volunteers. I won’t force anyone.”
At this moment, Colonel Fa entered the room and handed a jade slip to the general, who reviewed its contents. After reviewing it, he handed the slip back to the waiting colonel. “This is Dr. Yue, and I’ve just confirmed that in the first wave of attacks by the Reaper, her tent was the only one with no casualties. Dr. Yue says she discovered a clue about the Reaper. It might be risky, but I think we owe it to our brothers to find out what we can. What do you all say?”
Silence. Shivering. Fear. Words were one thing, but actions spoke volumes. Endless moments passed, and the general did nothing to make them decide.
Finally, after much hesitation, one of the men stepped forward. “I volunteer,” he said.
“Me too,” another man said, accompanying him.
“I’m sorry,” one the others said, shaking his head. “I have a family. I can’t risk it.”
“I understand,” the general replied. “Any others?” In the end, three men volunteered, while the others excused themselves. There was no judgment, only admiration for those who stepped up.
“Thank you for your sacrifice, men,” General Lai said. “Yue Bing, please heal the others. As for you three, you know what attracts the beast. Are you ready?”
They nodded.
“Godspeed.” He slashed his blade across their abdomens, causing their blood to spill on the tent floor. These were lethal wounds, the type that would need medical intervention to keep them alive. She instantly began working her magic, preventing their conditions from worsening, yet maintaining their vitality at unsustainable levels.
Endless moments passed in the deathly still room. Only weak and painful gasps could be heard from the soldiers, who shivered from both pain and fear.
A quarter hour passed before finally, their surroundings grew slightly cold. It was an almost imperceptible change to the untrained.
“It’s here,” Yue Bing said softly. Compared to the others in the room, she was especially sensitive to vitality. As the soldiers looked around nervously and the general inspected his surroundings for signs of the intruder, Yue Bing focused on traces of red that appeared below the three men. They were much clearer than last time, and she wondered if it had anything to do with the energy her ankh had devoured.
“I see the red tendrils again,” she said. “They’re writhing, devouring the vitality of these soldiers.”
“Can you see their source?” General Lai asked.
She shook her head. “I can’t see the source, as it’s deep underground,” she said. “But perhaps we can capture a specimen to study.”
Her ankh appeared in the air and glowed with soft red light. The tendrils edged away from it, frightened. Before they could do anything, the ankh emitted a field that aimed to yank them out of the ground. The vitality drain on the soldiers ceased as she grasped the intangible vines and pulled. Yet, try as she might, she couldn’t pull them out of the ground.
“I need your help, General,” Yue Bing said with a strained voice.
Understanding her intentions, General Lai sent out six flying swords and plunged them into the ground around them. They spun like drills, carefully excavating a pit. The debris piled up, forcing Colonel Fa to evacuate the tent and take it down.
Little by little, more and more of the tendrils appeared. Ten feet, twenty feet… Soon the pit was thirty feet deep, yet all she could see was a writhing mass of red. Grunting, the general sent out six more flying swords and accelerated the processes. At the forty-foot mark, the ground crumbled, revealing a green vine-like trunk. And unlike the red tendrils, it wasn’t invisible. Both General Lai and Colonel Fa could see it.
“I see the enemy, and I’m killing it,” General Lai said, his voice seething with a week of pent-up anger and indignation.
Yue Bing stopped him as he moved to cut it. “Not yet,” she said. “Who knows how big the main body is.”
General Lai, realizing his foolishness, redirected his swords downward. “Dig!” he commanded.
Dozens of flying swords from the surrounding soldiers flew out in a flurry of metal and dirt. Fifty feet. Seventy feet. Ninety feet. Soon they reached a depth of a hundred feet, at which point the ground completely caved in. A large hole appeared beneath their camp, a hole no one knew existed, and within that hole lay a dozen green vines, writhing in the darkness. They converged on a single stalk almost ten feet in diameter.
Yue Bing and General Lai stared at the gaping black pit with concern in their eyes. Though the giant green vine below didn’t seem particularly dangerous, it emanated a sinister aura that most cultivators would have trouble identifying. Fortunately, Yue Bing’s cultivation lineage was special. Through her Eyes of Pure Jade, she could see traces of ochre coloring in its green flesh, a telltale sign of its devilish origins.
“What do we do now, General Lai?” Yue Bing asked hesitantly. This was, after all, a battlefield.
“While it’s not very prudent to wander down there, we don’t have much choice in the matter,” General Lai said bitterly. “This plant is clearly an enemy tactic aimed at consuming life force from our dying soldiers. Whether their goal is to assassinate the wounded or for some other sinister plot, it’s difficult to say. However, one thing is certain: Plant life-forms can’t act on their own. Someone must have planted it and must still be directing it. Otherwise, it would have been killing enemy soldiers as well.”
“How do you know it hasn’t?” Yue Bing asked.
“I have my sources,” General Lai replied. “When foiling an enemy’s plot, it’s best to act on it as soon as possible. Waiting will just give the enemy a chance to cover their motives. If we act now, not only will we get more information, we might also be able to deal them a crippling blow.”
As the general spoke, Yue Bing noticed movement in the smaller red tendrils. They were untangling, rapidly retracting into the main vine. “Something’s happenin
g,” she said. “It’s moving. Receding.” As the red tendrils pulled back, the main vine shuddered. Its giant frame began inching backward as well, shedding large pieces of dark-green bark in the process. Its movements were slow but deliberate. Moreover, it was accelerating.
“We have no time to waste,” General Lai said, pulling back his flying swords. He took out a red-and-gold token and threw it into the air. Red and gold were the colors of a general, and this token was a representation of his authority. The troops in the encampment instantly dropped what they were doing and converged on their location. Within ten seconds, around a thousand men, five of them wearing red cloaks, stood at attention.
The general pulled out a green orb, which Yue Bing recognized as a core-transmission jade. “This is General Lai from Southhaven’s fourth garrison. I am requesting immediate backup from the second garrison. Strength of the enemy unknown, recommending caution. Send a core-formation expert.”
He then looked to the five men in red cloaks. “Colonels Bai and Min, along with all foundation-establishment cultivators under their command, will follow me and Dr. Yue into the tunnel. I want this camp strictly sealed off until reinforcements arrive. No one is to leave, and I want communications blocked from the inside out for the next hour.”
“Sir!” they shouted in confirmation.
A group of fifty foundation-establishment cultivators peeled off and formed a separate group. Yue Bing ran some quick arithmetic. Considering that General Lai was at the peak of foundation establishment, and she and the colonels were middle-foundation-establishment cultivators, they might be able to cause heavy losses to a core-formation cultivator if they set their minds to it. General Lai was clearly pulling out all the stops, committing everything he could without abandoning the encampment.
“Move out!” General Lai commanded.
Yue Bing and the others hopped onto their flying swords and flew into the hole. They maneuvered downward on the circular edges the general had purposefully cut into the pit’s conical shape. Within moments, they entered a dark thirty-foot-wide tunnel where a large vine was quickly retreating.
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