There was no time.
Dao Yan laid his sister gently against a tree root, her small body still trembling. "Stay here with Xiao Ya," he commanded his brother, his voice low and steady. "Don't move. Don't make a sound."
Dao Ran nodded, his face pale but resolute. He held his sister's hand, his other hand gripping his makeshift wooden spear.
Dao Yan turned and melted back into the forest.
He didn't search for tools. He was the tool.
The blueprint for the [Yuan Qi Collector] glowed in his mind's eye. It was a simple design, meant for passive energy gathering, but its construction required precision he'd never attempted before.
His [Profound Analysis] scanned the environment.
[Target acquired: Iron-rich river stones. High conductivity.]
[Target acquired: Sun-facing Silverleaf Vine. High flexibility and energy affinity.]
[Target acquired: Quartz crystal shard. Suitable for energy focusing.]
His hands moved with a purpose that defied his age. He crushed the stones with a larger rock, extracting the dark, metallic flakes within. He wove the supple vines into a complex, palm-sized lattice, a pattern that looked random but was, in fact, a perfect fractal antenna for Yuan Qi. With a sharp edge of quartz, he scraped grooves into the vine frame, embedding the iron flakes into the channels.
It was ugly. It was primitive.
But in his mind's eye, he could see it: a delicate, invisible circuit, ready to come alive.
He placed the quartz shard in the center. The final piece. He then pressed his thumb against it, channeling the last dregs of his own meager energy into the device.
Hummm.
A soft, green light pulsed from the disc. A visible vortex of faint green motes—the Yuan Qi of the forest—began to spiral into the device, slowly, but steadily.
It worked.
He didn't waste a moment admiring his creation. He snatched it and moved like a ghost back towards his home.
The journey back was a torment. Every shadow could be a Xuan Tian Sect disciple. Every rustle of leaves was a potential death sentence.
He slipped back into the ruined estate through a collapsed section of the wall. The main hall was a wreck. But his father was still there, dumped in a corner like a sack of refuse.
His breath caught in his throat.
The wound on his father's chest was no longer just bleeding. It was a blackened, festering hole, rimmed with a sickly green energy that was actively eating away at his life force. It was the signature of Li Qingxuan's Yuan Qi.
"Father..." he whispered, his heart twisting in agony.
There was no response. His father's breathing was shallow, almost gone.
With trembling hands, Dao Yan knelt and gently placed the humming [Yuan Qi Collector] directly onto the wound.
The effect was instantaneous.
The soft green light of the collector met the sickly green energy of the wound. The necrotic energy hissed like water on a hot stone, slowly being neutralized and dispersed. The black rot at the edges of the wound began to recede, millimeter by millimeter. A faint, healthy pink began to return to the flesh beneath.
It was working. It was actually working!
A surge of fierce, triumphant hope shot through Dao Yan. His knowledge, his "useless trinkets," could defy even the仙法 (Immortal Arts)!
A slow, mocking clap echoed from the doorway of the ruined hall.
Dao Yan's blood ran cold.
Li Qingxuan stood there, leaning against the doorframe, a cruel smile playing on his lips. He wasn't even looking at Dao Yan, but at the device on his father's chest.
"Playing doctor with your little toys? How touching."
His eyes held no warmth, only the chilling promise of death.