The night was dark, the moon dim, and silence hung heavy in the air.
Xiao Ling floated over Pei Xianqiao's shoulder, her eyes narrowed as she sensed the direction of two unfamiliar auras.
"...Master, in the back courtyard!"
She raised her tiny hand and pointed. At once, a piercing wail rose in the air, shrill and eerie, half like weeping, half like laughter, with the timbre of a child's voice.
Pei Xianqiao's gaze snapped toward the back gate. There, no higher than half the frame, a small figure stood staring at her, crying.
"Mother… Mother…"
The little thing crawled toward her, limbs bent in a grotesque manner.
Pei Xianqiao blinked, and in that brief instant it was already almost upon her. Its pupils were blood red, its head swollen and lumpy like a tumor. It had no hands, only four feet for limbs.
"Master!" Xiao Ling cried urgently.
That shout snapped Pei Xianqiao back to herself.
Clang!
The Cangling Snow Sword flashed free of its sheath, a streak of frosty light cutting across the air. The childlike creature's bulbous head rolled wetly along the ground.
Pei Xianqiao stepped forward, intending to examine the strange being. But the shrieking grew louder, more frenzied.
"Mother… Mother…"
At the small back gate, a black mass of twisted little figures pressed against each other, their swollen heads piled atop one another. Dozens of crimson eyes stared coldly at her as their voices chanted without pause.
Even knowing it was illusion, the sound struck at her heart.
Seizing the chance, the swarm rushed in. One by one the tumor-headed children opened mouths wider than their faces, crammed with countless needle-like teeth, snapping toward her skull.
...
"Heh, heh, heh… So the little ones have come out to play…"
The old man surnamed Yang squinted upward into the darkness. Strange wisps of black miasma seeped from the ground below, an aura far different from mortal breath.
It was the baleful qi of an evil thing.
Those infants could no longer be called human.
"But just this much? Nowhere near enough." Yang hunched lower, his back bowing with age.
"I'll make sure you stay here forever."
His cloudy eyes fixed on the enormous pill furnace. His bony hands formed twisting seals, intricate and archaic. Before closing his eyes, he cast a cold glance at Tang Xiangyin lying on the ground, chanting syllables so crooked and harsh they grated on the ears.
The leaves rustled outside. Beyond them, the eyes of the golden Buddha statue gleamed faintly through the watery night, both real and unreal.
Pei Xianqiao's nose wrinkled ever so slightly. Poison qi had spread into the courtyard.
...
The harsh, arcane chanting droned on. By the great furnace, ripples spread through the air as though water parted. A dark passageway slowly unfolded, carrying with it the sound of muffled sobbing.
"Uu… uu…" Tang Xiangyin wept uncontrollably, blind to what was happening around her. That last chilling look from the old man—he meant to refine her into a pill!
She thought of herself, Che Lingzhi, who had scraped through life, never truly savoring a moment of freedom or joy, and now her life would end here.
Tears blurred her eyes. If Heaven gave her another chance, she swore she would never again oversleep when Fairy Ranran called her!
"Ah… uu—!" She had barely lifted her head when a pair of bright, gleaming eyes met hers. The sob in her throat twisted into a strangled howl of terror.
Thankfully, the old Yang was still reciting his incantations, not noticing her suppressed cry.
"Uu… uu!!" Tang Xiangyin blinked through her tears—and froze. Before her stood the very figure she had longed for, the one she had prayed to see: Fairy Yao Ranran!
She thought the Fairy would never find this place.
Desperate, she rolled her body like a bound rice dumpling, dragging herself closer.
Her eyes widened with joy—only for the vision of Yao Ranran in the corridor to suddenly vanish. In its place, a surge of black fog struck from above, wrapping around her throat and lifting her body high into the air.
"Help—!"
Her scream tore out in raw terror. Had it all been a dream? No corridor, no Fairy's eyes? Was she truly about to die here?
"Revival Bone-Preserving Pill… the legendary elixir. Who would have thought that I, this old man, would one day refine it… hahahaha!"
Yang's bony hand clenched her neck as the other stirred the furnace. Slurry like rotting pus hissed, eating through his flesh until white bone gleamed beneath.
He stared at the skeletal fingers, and his withered face pulled into a grotesque smile.
"Time to throw in the main ingredient. Little one, I spent no small effort gathering all the supporting materials for this pill."
His raspy voice echoed as two streaks of ghostly green light shot beneath the furnace, igniting an infernal emerald blaze. The vast flames wrapped the cauldron tight, scorching it with a light bright enough to swallow the room.
The instant the furnace flared, the surrounding walls revealed themselves barren, shelves nothing but hollow frames.
All of Yang's focus remained fixed on Tang Xiangyin. Raising the furnace lid—its edges carved with snarling demon-beast faces—he prepared to drop her inside.
But as he slammed the lid down, a flicker of doubt crossed his eyes.
Was something different just now?
Through the narrow gap before the lid sealed, he glimpsed the round shape of a red pellet. Only half its form was visible.
No features, only a face pressed into the cauldron, likely the result of Che Lingzhi's last desperate struggle.
Yang exhaled in relief.
In his alchemy chamber, no other being could possibly intrude.
Bang!
The lid sealed tight, muffling the furious thrashing within.
The wet thuds of flesh against iron mixed with the squelch of pus. Yang narrowed his eyes, black miasma tugging at his withered face as he smiled in grim satisfaction.
So what if he could not see clearly?
Once the Revival Bone-Preserving Pill was complete, nothing else mattered.
Clang! Clang!
The furnace quaked harder and harder, and Yang only grew more elated.
Hand seals flew, pressing down the vibrations while the emerald flames roared brighter. His pupils seemed to burn with twin green fires, his expression slipping deeper into madness.
"So this is how he refines pills…"
Beneath the veil of evil qi, the hidden passageway shimmered faintly.
Yao Ranran poked her head out, clutching a trembling, round little puppet in her arms. Her eyes never left Yang as he worked.
"Fairy Ranran, what was it you just threw into the cauldron?" Tang Xiangyin asked in shock, eyes wide.
"Oh, that? Just a puppet child I happened to pick up at Grandpa Yang's place." Yao Ranran answered absently, her spare hand unconsciously mimicking Yang's seals as she continued to study him.
"You… picked up a puppet child?" Tang Xiangyin's jaw dropped.
Never mind the puppet's uncanny abilities—how did she even 'pick up' something from inside someone else's home?
Was that really something you could just pick up?