Whispering Nights
The cold room smelled of damp stone and medicinal smoke. Shen Lian sat cross-legged, eyes closed, the serpent's bite still faintly glowing on his hand.
Inside him, the black seed pulsed. With every breath, it swelled and contracted, a heartbeat that wasn't his.
He inhaled.
The seed drank.
He exhaled.
The seed whispered.
More.
He gritted his teeth. "Enough."
The whisper coiled back, but not in obedience. It felt more like laughter.
⸻
First Experiment
He pressed his palm against the floor. Slowly, carefully, he drew on the dregs of qi left in the room—remnants of the antidote jars, the stale breath of old herbs. The seed in his dantian stirred, pulling it in.
Black roots of qi unfurled beneath his skin, crawling up his arm. He flinched. They weren't visible—yet—but he felt them burrow, seeding themselves deeper into his veins.
Suddenly, a voice that wasn't his own snarled in his head.
Faster! Take it! All of it!
It wasn't hunger this time. It was Lu Chen's voice. The disciple he had drained.
Shen Lian's eyes snapped open. His breath grew ragged. For a moment he wasn't himself—he was Lu Chen again, laughing, swaggering, sneering. He saw memories not his own. Felt emotions not his own.
"Get… out…" he growled, slamming his palm against the stone.
The black roots recoiled. The voice dissolved, fading into the whispers.
His chest heaved. Sweat ran down his back. He pressed his hand over his heart, feeling the lotus pulse inside.
He wasn't just devouring qi. He was devouring people.
⸻
A Visitor
The cold room's door creaked. A shadow slipped inside.
"Shen Lian."
Su Rou. Her hair clung damp to her face, her hands clutching a lantern. She looked at him with wide, worried eyes.
"You shouldn't be here," Shen Lian said. His voice was low, but not unkind.
"I had to see." Her lips trembled. "You've changed."
He smiled faintly. "So they keep telling me."
"It's dangerous," she whispered. "What you did to Lu Chen, to the others—it wasn't cultivation. It was… it was something else."
Shen Lian's gaze sharpened. "If I hadn't, he would have beaten me into the pits. You think the sect would have stopped him? No. They would have laughed."
Su Rou's hands shook, but her eyes didn't look away. "Maybe. But this path—if you keep walking it, you won't stay Shen Lian."
He leaned closer, his smile bitter. "What am I now, then? A cripple? A tool? A nameless mouth to feed the pits? At least this path is mine."
Su Rou said nothing. She simply set the lantern down and backed away, her eyes still clinging to his.
"You frighten me," she whispered.
And then she left.
⸻
Elder's Test
The next morning, Shen Lian was summoned to the inner hall.
Elder Mo Xuan waited alone, seated cross-legged before an incense burner. Smoke curled upward, thin and pale.
"Sit," Mo Xuan said. His voice was calm, almost warm.
Shen Lian obeyed.
The elder studied him. His eyes were clear, too clear, like a serpent's watching a mouse. "You lived."
"I did," Shen Lian replied evenly.
"And more than lived. You have a gift. Do you know what it is?"
Shen Lian's lips curved faintly. "Power."
Mo Xuan chuckled softly. "Ah. Power. But not yours."
He flicked his sleeve. A faint jade light shimmered across the floor, forming a small, writhing serpent of qi. It hissed and struck at Shen Lian.
Instinct moved him. Shen Lian's hand shot out. The serpent struck his palm, and he drew it in. Qi surged through his veins, the black seed pulsing greedily.
Mo Xuan watched closely. "Yes… yes… The Devouring Path stirs in you."
Shen Lian frowned. "The what?"
Mo Xuan only smiled. "In time, you will know. For now—" His gaze hardened. "Control it, or it will consume you. Fail, and you are nothing but food for your own seed."
He stood, robes whispering like silk serpents. "We will see how far you crawl, Shen Lian. Or if you bloom."
He left Shen Lian alone with the fading smoke.
⸻
The Fight in the Shadows
That night, as Shen Lian returned to the outer disciple quarters, a figure blocked his path.
A thin boy with darting eyes, dagger in hand. Behind him, two others. Lu Chen's cronies.
"You shamed our brother," the boy hissed. "You think you're some demon now? We'll cut you down before you spread."
The dagger flashed. Shen Lian stepped aside, his hand brushing the boy's arm.
Qi poured out. The boy screamed, collapsing as his dagger clattered.
The second lunged with a punch. Shen Lian didn't think—he simply moved, his palm striking forward with Venom Palm Technique, the stolen memory guiding him. The boy's chest convulsed, black veins crawling over his skin.
The last one froze, horror in his eyes. He turned to flee.
But Shen Lian's voice cut through the night, calm and cold. "Stay."
The boy stopped against his will, trembling.
Shen Lian stepped closer, his eyes glowing faintly. The whisper in his dantian coiled around his words. "Tell the others. I am not broken."
The boy fled into the darkness.
Shen Lian stood alone, chest heaving, the seed in him pulsing with triumph.
But inside, the whispers roared louder than ever.
More. More. MORE.
⸻
Cliffhanger
That night, Shen Lian dreamed again. The black lotus inside him unfurled another petal. Two now. Each with a face.
Lu Chen's.
The boy with the dagger's.
They smiled at him with his own mouth.
And when he woke, Shen Lian found his hand clenched tight—not around air, but around a dagger he did not remember picking up.