His daughter's purple radiance wasn't only weak; it was downright pathetic. It was like a pitiful mosquito trying to break steel armor. But to a four-year-old girl—his Xuanxuan,it had been steadily sapping her strength ever since the moment of her birth.
Zhenwu knelt beside the bed, jaw clenched as he traced the poisoning energy with his awareness. It had entwined itself around her blood cells like parasitical vines, exactly duplicating the symptoms of leukemia and deceiving even the most talented doctors. This was a cold and calculating play, vicious in spirit, and entirely unacceptable.
Not surprising that medical expenses were crushing the family of Lin Xue. Not surprising that his little girl was fading away despite their best efforts. This was no run-of-the-mill disease that could be cured by chemo or bone marrow transfers. This was a poison from another realm literally bred to siphon the life force of anyone with so much as a spark of spiritual capacity.
His hands shook—not with fear, but with a fury and depth of emotion that was capable of churning rocks.
"You've chosen the wrong family," he hissed at the purple energy, his voice barely rising above a whisper. "You've chosen the wrong child."
The extraction should have been a meticulous process, necessitating careful attention to prevent any harm to her delicate body. However, Zhenwu had ceased to concern himself with the appropriate techniques. He was a father reflecting on four years of his daughter's stolen life, four years marked by her mother's tears, and four years characterized by a terror that ought never to have occurred.
He laid his hand on Xuanxuan's forehead. The purple energy drew back at his touch as if it had been burned, trying to dig itself deeper into her system. But it was too late. Zhenwu's energy trapped every hint of the poisonous energy and pulled it out of her blood supply, her bone marrow and very spirit. It had no escape route.
In a few instants, what was left of the purple light had faded away, coalescing into a tiny sphere the size of a marble that floated just above his fingertip. It fluttered weakly, like a fading heartbeat. It was pathetic. On its own terms, it would not have represented any danger to a seasoned cultivator. But against an unguarded child? It was a slow, inevitable death sentence.
Xuanxuan's breathing became heavier, taking on a more peaceful character. The fever broke nearly at once, and color came back into the pale cheek. Her tiny hand loosed its frantic hold on the plush rabbit, and for the first time in what seemed forever, she seemed at rest instead of fighting for life.
Bending low, Zhenwu placed a gentle kiss on her forehead. "Sleep peacefully, little star," he said. "Daddy is going to make very sure that nothing of this sort ever occurs once more."
Therefore, he vanished from life, carrying the condensed poison with him.
---
Lin Xue awoke on the chair beside her daughter's room, her neck stiff from being in an odd angle. She had once again dozed off from complete weariness. This had been happening increasingly of late—the pressure was greater than what her body was designed to tolerate.
She automatically put out her hand to Xuanxuan's forehead, readying herself for the accustomed feeling of fever. But her palm met cool, normal flesh. Lin Xue's breathing stopped briefly. She pressed her hand harder up against her daughter's head and then checked out her wrists and her throat. There was no fever; not a bit.
"What?" Lin Xue trembled. Trembling hands, she took the thermometer off the nightstand and inserted it under Xuanxuan's arm. 37°. Normal. Completely, absolutely normal.
Tears had begun falling before she was able to restrain them. Xuanxuan's complexion was red, with actual color; her breathing was robust. The dark shadows underneath her eyes were paler. Even when sleeping, she looked. Healthy. Really healthy.
"Oh my God," Lin Xue said regretfully and raised both hands toward her mouth. "Oh my God, oh my God."
In her sleep, Xuanxuan muttered softly, "Daddy. Daddy came home
Lin Xue's heart was heavy. Even in her sleep, her daughter was still crying outfor the fatherwho had deserted them. But now, though, Lin Xue did not care. Her baby was recovering. Miraculously, herdaughter was on the mend.
She stumbled out of the room unevenly, her legs shaking from relief and disbelief.
"Dad! Dad!" she exclaimed, her voice reverberating throughout the modest dwelling. "Father, please hurry!"
---
Lin Yuheng heard the screaming of his daughter and immediately dropped the cigarette. That thread of panic mixed with whatever other feeling he wasn't quite aware of made ice water course through his system. He had been chain-smoking and cursing that good-for-nothing lad who now had the nerve of showing up after four years of not uttering a word when the voice of Lin Xue.
Something was amiss. Something was seriously awry.
He hurried toward the house, his stiff knees creaking, his heart racing. He could imagine it in his head: the lifeless, still body of his granddaughter. It was the end of four years of battling. A crushing blow to his daughter's already broken heart.
*That bastard,* he thought, anger boiling. *He came back just in time to watch her die. Just in time to break Xue's heart all over again.*
He erupted into the room and slid onto his knees, pounding at the hardwood ground with fists. "No," he groaned laboriously, tears dripping from his worn face. "No, no, no. not my little gem, not my Xuanxuan."
"Dad?" Lin Xue asked with confusion and disbelief. "Dad, what are you doing? Did you not notice? Her fever has reduced! She is improving!"
Lin Yuheng froze. His tear-filled eyes shot up to look at his daughter, who was standing in the doorway with the strangest expression—joy laced with bewilderment.
"What did you say?"
"The fever," Lin Xue said again, her voice growing stronger. "It's disappeared. Entirely disappeared. Her fever is down. She seems. Dad, she seems better than she has in months."
Lin Yuheng quickly got up,almost falling as he made a dash toward the room. On her tiny bed was his granddaughter. While still quite pale,she did not have that deathly color that he had learned to fear. All of her face was a real flush of pink. Her respirations were smooth and gentle and quite the opposite of those strained gasps that had haunted his bad dreams.
He lingered in the doorway, afraid to hope, wary of believing what his eyes were telling him.
Xuanxuan changed positions when sleeping, and a soft smile was on her face. "Daddy is home now," she said quietly. "Do not go away."
Lin Yuheng's hands were fists. That boy. That unaccountable coward who had run when his family was at their weakest. How did he manage it? When did it happen? Lin Yuheng had kept vigil over the courtyard all night and nobody came or went at the house.
*Did that bastard actually keep his promise?* The old man's mind buzzed. *But how? When did he even arrive?*
---
300 miles away, on top of the loftiest peak of Heishan Mountain, Zhenwu was alone under the star-adorned sky. The wind blew through his hair, carrying the scent of pine trees and distant rain. At his feet was a sea of forest, and beyond it the simple village where his family slept.
He breathed deeply, feeling the ancient mountain energy flow within him. Then he glanced downward at his own shadow falling stretched and black on the rocky ground, illuminated by the moonlight.
"It is time to work," he whispered.