Chapter 230: Essence of the Enemy

Chapter 230: Essence of the Enemy

A day and a half passed like wet ink on parchment.

I warned everyone yesterday.

Told them to avoid exertion. Especially those with qi. No training, no refinement. Just rest. Breathe. Endure. Until we could find the cure.

And still, the plague crept forward.

Even those who obeyed the order to the letter showed signs. Not dramatic, not yet. But there were more coughs now. More fatigue. More faces pale and drawn, as if something were quietly siphoning the light out from under their skin.

Yu Long was still comatose. Han Chen barely left his side.

He kept vigil with the Verdant Lotus disciples in shifts, feeding his brother teas, measuring breath, checking for fever. But it wasn’t just duty driving him anymore. I’d seen the way he drifted closer to Xu Ziqing these past days. Quiet conversations at dusk. Shared silences.

Two senior brothers, one who had lost his junior, and one trying desperately not to.

I coughed into my sleeve.

Even with careful qi use, even with rest, my body was showing the first signs. The Amethyst Plague was slow, but inevitable. Perhaps that was their intention; it would punish cultivators disproportionately. The stronger you were, the more you were affected.

Windy hadn’t left my side all morning. He was curled around the rafters now, slow, his tongue flicking out once every few minutes instead of seconds. His scales which usually shimmered white with just a hint of blue now took on a faint violet sheen.

Tianyi was worse.

She had pushed herself too hard. Tried to help me, the village, the foragers, everyone. And now she was paying for it.

She sat on the woven mat near the window, half-curled, her wings drooping lower than usual. The dim glow that always haloed around her edges, the quiet aura of qi she gave off when at rest, it had faded to a soft gray. Her antennae barely twitched. And when I knelt beside her, I could see it clearly.

A faint purpling at the base of her bare feet.

My chest tightened.

She looked up at me. Eyes large, luminous, and far too perceptive.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, her voice soft as wind on silk. “You feel like stormclouds.”

I hesitated, then reached forward and cupped her cheek gently. Her skin was cooler than usual. The thought made my stomach twist.

“Worry about yourself first,” I said.

She flinched, only slightly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be weak.”

I closed my eyes for a breath.

Was it her who was weak? Or was it me?

“No,” I whispered. “I should be the one apologizing.”

She blinked. Didn’t argue. Just nodded slowly.

“Rest,” I said, brushing her hair back. “Please.”

Tianyi gave a small hum of acknowledgment and nestled back into her mat. Her wings folded gently over her frame, like a blanket of delicate shadow. Her eyes stayed open, but they lost focus as she drifted into that strange half-sleep she shared with butterflies.

I stayed beside her for a while. Watched her breathing.

The shop was quiet.

Sunlight filtered in through the window slats.

I leaned against the table and let my fingers trace the rim of an empty vial.

How many had I filled in the past week? How many more would I need?

The plague wasn’t slowing. The garden was still holding for now; but how long before the soil gave in too? How long before everyone I cared about began to fall one by one?

I exhaled through my nose.

'No time for despair. No time for indulgence. I had work to do.'

But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel tired.

From knowing that every move I made had people at stake.

And from knowing that even now, even after all this…

I still hadn’t found the cure.

I walekd into the heart of the village, greeting those who meandered outside. Despite the pleasant weather, most opted to stay indoors. I continued until I reached the greenhouse containing the lifelines for Gentle Wind.

The plants were growing well. Even without infusing my qi, they matured rapidly thanks to the nourishing beds of soil that remained untouched from the violet rain.

Yin Si had been a quiet miracle. The spider moved without complaint, weaving through the greenhouse’s corners and crevices like a silent gardener. And with her help, the Bloodsoul Bloom continued to feed.

Every day, I collected what she caught around the shop. A bird carcass, a pest-beast, a desiccated mole I hadn’t even known lived in the region.

I dropped the prey before the sealed crescent bed where the Bloodsoul Bloom thrived, sprouting fleshy petals. And with every sacrifice, I followed with a drop of essence; barely enough to register, just enough to balance its hunger. With all my painstaking calculations and theories within the Manifold, I followed a careful structure to transform the Bloodsoul Bloom into something I could use.

I could already see the difference in the way it grew. Its bud was fuller, the stalks more stable, their sheen dulled from raw crimson to a muted vermillion. The veining, once sharp and jagged like bleeding roots, had begun to curve into more organic patterns.

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Not docile. Never that. More like a beast fed just enough not to lash out. A blade with its edge turned sideways.

I kept my awareness tethered to the Manifold Memory Palace as I worked, monitoring its development and trying to communicate with it using Nature's Attunement; it was a constant stream of data, fed through parallel threads of thought. Every day was a new challenge.

But even with that success… everything else was slipping.

Supplies were low. Too low.

The villagers had stopped building. The scaffolds near the southern ridge lay half-finished, beams dark with dew and warped by exposure. Most of the masons were losing energy. Or tending to the sick. Even the Verdant Lotus disciples had started rationing. Their medicines couldn’t keep up. The poultices ran thin. And the water…

The well was holding; for now. But the color of it told me time was running short. I'd need to allocate some time to purifying water and distributing it to the villagers. But it was a manual and tedious task; I'd need to enlist someone's help for that.

And then, as I was maintaining the other plants in the greenhouse, I thought about another person.

Ren Zhi.

I hadn’t spoken to him since the last training. He hadn't approached me since our first lesson. And despite my desire to breakthrough and bring my Body to the peak of Qi Initiation stage, I waited. Attempting to seal my third eye acupoint to continue the same training was dangerous, even if I had some background knowledge in acupuncture. I couldn't risk blinding myself permanently if I did it wrong.

Not when so many were still depending on me.

Ren Zhi had been present during the Soaring Swallow assembly yesterday; when I explained everything to the unhoused refugees.

Lan-Yin had helped organize the meeting, passing out mild tea and encouraging the children to eat something. But she rarely left the house now. She only drank or cooked with water I or the Verdant Lotus disciples had personally treated. I made sure of it.

Ren Zhi, though? His condition remained a mystery.

He didn’t show any signs of illness at the time. And I didn’t know how much qi someone like him used just by existing. If he was feeling the plague’s effects, he hadn’t shown it. And I didn’t dare ask. He would tell me when he wanted to. If he wanted to.

As I left the greenhouse, brushing soil from my sleeves and pulling my satchel across my shoulder, I passed through the quieter side of the square.

And that’s when I saw them.

Xin Du. Fang Du. Ying Xie.

The three cultist converts I’d helped save and cure. I hadn’t seen all three together since we brought them back from the brink. They’d kept to themselves for the most part. Ying Xie, the older of the three, was one of the best builders under Li Wei. Fang Du helped in the kitchens of the Soaring Swallow. But her brother... he was different. Eager. Fast. He’d taken to learning swordsmanship under Xu Ziqing with a kind of reverence.

But now they stood together, waiting just outside my shop.

I paused.

Xin Du stepped forward first. “Kai.”

I nodded. “You three... alright?”

Ying Xie gave a respectful bow. “We’re well. That’s why we’re here.”

I frowned. “What do you mean?”

“You’ve told us everyone is getting sick. From that violet rain. How it's a special kind made by those cultists.”

I nodded slowly.

Xin Du spoke next, voice steady. “But we’re not sick. Not even a little. Not a cough. Not fatigue.”

I blinked. That was new. Even with all the medicines at my disposal and the Black Tortoise's Endurance, I was feeling symptoms. But for them, who unlocked their qi reserves as a result of the cultists, they should've at least shown some symptoms. “You’re sure?”

“We checked,” Ying Xie said, folding his arms. “Ziqing confirmed it. We’re untouched.”

“And you think that’s because of… what happened to you,” I said.

Xin Du nodded. “It has to be. We took in the Bloodsoul Bloom. It warped us. Nearly killed us. But you pulled us back.”

Fang Du whispered quietly. “We think… maybe it left something behind.”

My thoughts surged. Parallel lines of thought sprouting immediately. The Bloodsoul Bloom. The way it devoured the plague without hesitation.

If the Bloom and the Plague came from the same origin, then maybe their bodies had absorbed enough of its essence that the plague didn’t recognize them as hosts to take over. Or maybe whatever residuals from the Bloodsoul Bloom that made them stronger than the average person devoured whatever resided within the violet rain.

'Qi moved blood, and blood nourished qi. Perhaps...'

“Come with me,” I said. “To the shop.”

They followed without hesitation.

Once inside, I pulled out three small vials, sterilized them with a wave of the Heavenly Flame Mantra, and laid them in a clean tray.

“I need some of your blood.”

No hesitation. Not even a blink.

Xin Du held out his palm immediately.

Ying Xie followed.

Fang Du trembled slightly, but extended her hand all the same.

I didn’t speak. Just worked. I made three careful incisions, using sterile needles. Collected just enough blood from each to fill a third of the vials.

The blood shimmered faintly.

There was something there. I didn’t know what yet.

I immediately treated the incisions with salves and wrapped each hand with bandage strips soaked in a healing balm.

“Thank you,” I said, voice quiet.

All three bowed.

“You saved us,” Xin Du said. “If our blood can help… then take more if you must.”

I flinched slightly. “I don’t need all of it,” I said. “Just this is enough. For now.”

Ying Xie placed a hand on my shoulder, surprisingly steady. “We’ll gladly do what you need, Kai. If that’s what it takes, so be it.”

Fang Du nodded, her voice barely above a whisper. “Please don’t hesitate. You're our savior.”

Their words were meant to encourage.

They were. I could feel it.

But something in me twisted all the same.

That kind of trust—it wasn’t fair. Not when I didn’t even have a finished formula. Not when I still had to measure every breath I took to avoid falling apart myself.

I swallowed thickly.

“I’ll find the cure,” I whispered.

Not to them. Not entirely.

More to myself.

They left as I set the vials carefully on my workbench, listening to Windy and Tianyi's quiet breaths as they slept.

Three crimson samples. Stable. Vibrant.

Then, I pulled out another vial. A few droplets of violet rain I'd kept for testing. With a small plate, I placed a drop of Xin Du's blood and the violet rain together.

The reaction was immediate.

The violet fluid spread... then stopped. Mid-motion. As though arrested by something unseen. A faint hiss whispered into the air, like breath against a cold blade. Then silence.

The drop sat there, inert. Lifeless. Like spoiled wine on lacquered wood.

I tried the same with Fang Du’s and Ying Xie's.

Same reaction.

It failed to exist in their blood. Whatever transformation the cultists forced upon them made their bodies immune. Or something close to it.

I sat down slowly, staring at the samples Then, almost against my better judgment, I pulled out my knife and pricked my finger.

My own blood.

The cut healed within moments, as a lone drop of crimson coalesced at the tip of my finger and fell atop the sample of violet rain.

At first, it resisted. The edges curled, like oil on water, not mixing. But slowly, it began to bloom. A purple sheen spread outward, the blood darkening shade by shade.

Infection.

Even now, with all my caution, I was still vulnerable.

I swallowed hard, the implications lashing through me like a whip.

The path was clear.

But it was one I didn’t want to walk.

If I wanted to cure the village... I’d have to use the Bloodsoul Bloom. It so ironic I could almost laugh. It held a twisted kind of purity, a singular hunger that rejected even the Amethyst Plague because it couldn't tolerate competition. This demonic herb could be key to curing this damned plague.

But it would mean feeding people the very thing that had nearly torn the converts apart. That had twisted their qi. Warped their bodies. Turned them into weapons. There was no guarantee I could turn that poison into something safe to consume.

It felt wrong; I was offering poison, even if it was the only antidote.

I pulled back from the table and slid into a seated posture, crossing my legs on the floorboards.

Then I let go.

The world around me stilled. Dimmed.

And I sank into the Manifold Memory Palace once more.

Thoughts bloomed instantly; scenarios, cautions, permutations. How much Bloom would be safe for ingestion? How fast could I refine it into a stable tincture?

What side effects could I tolerate?

What price was acceptable?

I didn’t know how long I spent there. A few hours, maybe more. But when I opened my eyes again, the lanterns in the shop had burned low. The air was cool with late-night damp. My body ached from sitting.

But I had something.

Not a cure. Not yet.

But a pathway.

If I could find a cure somewhere between the Violet Bloom antidote and the Bloodsoul Bloom, then...

I stood slowly, stretching the stiffness from my back. I walked toward the bench, then back to the window, checking on Tianyi. Still asleep, her breathing shallow but steady. Windy stirred faintly above her, shifting like a coil of fog draped across the rafters.

I turned toward the door to blow out the last lantern—

Knock.

I froze.

Not many people knocked at this hour. Not unless something had gone terribly wrong.

But I already knew who it was.

I opened the door.

Ren Zhi. Cloaked in shadow, robes trailing mist.

He inclined his head.

“We train,” he said.

Then turned without waiting.

I followed him out into the moonlit clearing, the village quiet behind us. Mist curled along the path like a sleeping serpent, low and heavy, carrying the scent of damp grass and old soil.

I wasn’t sure he would come.

Not with everything I’d said. Not with the warnings I gave about overusing qi. Not with the risk of speeding the plague along.

“You’re sure?” I asked quietly, falling into step beside him. “Training like this… isn’t it dangerous?”

Ren Zhi snorted. “It’s perfect, actually.”

He didn’t slow, didn’t turn to look at me. Just kept walking, his steps soft but precise. “Your training doesn’t rely on qi use. It’s based on deprivation. Sensory limitation. Pressure. Breath. That makes it safer than most cultivation exercises. If anything, it keeps you alive longer.”

I nodded slowly, considering it.

We stepped past the last row of houses, the clearing opening before us like a stage bathed in silver. The moon hung directly overhead, casting long shadows of trees like black veins across the ground.

“But you,” I said, glancing at him, “what about you?”

He stopped then.

Turned just enough for the light to catch the sharp ridge of his cheekbone, his blind eyes angled slightly to the side, as though listening to something I couldn’t hear.

“You’re worried about me,” he said.

It wasn’t a question.

I hesitated. “Yeah.”

He gave a low chuckle. “I appreciate the sentiment. But don’t flatter yourself.”

I frowned. “That’s not—”

“I can control it,” he interrupted. “The rate at which my qi cycles. The speed it flows. The intensity. I’ve trained for decades to reach this level of command. This plague won't take me down so easily.”

That made me pause.

'Control the speed at which his qi moved?'

He wasn’t just minimizing qi usage, he was managing it at a depth that bordered on the instinctual. Like commanding the rhythm of his own heartbeat. I've never heard of such control.

At my level, Qi Initiation stage bordering the Essence Awakening realm, I was just starting to shape my qi deliberately. How to infuse weapons and reinforce objects, not just my body.

But this was an entirely different level.

Spirit Ascension?

Or higher?

“You’re...” I began, heart pounding. “Are you—?”

“Stop,” Ren Zhi said immediately.

I blinked. “What?”

“That line of inquiry is a violation of our contract.”

Oh. Right.

My hand shot up and slapped over my mouth instinctively. “Disregard that,” I muttered, voice muffled.

He let out a dry, amused sound.

We reached the center of the clearing. The same spot where we’d trained before.

He lifted one hand, fingers pressing lightly against the space between my brows.

The third eye acupoint.

I took a breath.

Closed my eyes.

And dove into the dark.