Xuán Líng sat on the edge of the bed, the simple frame groaning under her immense, contained presence. She took Li Wei's cold, limp hand in both of hers. Closing her eyes, she sent a thread of her awareness into him, not as a healer, but as a matriarch reading the ledger of her kin.
She felt the ragged landscape of his qi, the faltering beat of his heart, the frantic struggle in his mind. The physical poison was gone, but the malevolent resentment remained, a sentient shadow violently clawing against the golden cage of Wù Fēng's divine energy protecting Li Wei's core.
She removed one hand from his and placed her palm flat against his chest, over his heart. "Everyone out," she commanded, her voice low and absolute.
They obeyed without a word, filing out in a silence heavy with hope and dread.
Alone with him, she leaned closer. "Āyí is here, my child," she whispered, in the quiet room. "Āyí is here."
A torrent of her immense, ancient power, gentle as a tide and inexorable as a glacier, flowed into his chest. For about twenty minutes, nothing happened. Then, a thick, tar-like substance, shimmering with black malevolence, began to ooze from between Li Wei's lips. Xuán Líng pressed down again, her will a force of nature. More of the vile energy burst forth, a grotesque mockery of breath.
She pressed a third time, her palm glowing with a soft, silver light. Li Wei's body jolted violently upright. A final, concentrated explosion of the resentful energy erupted from his mouth, a shadow seeking form before dissipating into the air.
With a dismissive wave of her hand, Xuán Líng released a pulse of pure, cleansing energy that scoured the room, leaving the air crisp and sterile, the malevolence utterly annihilated.
Gently, she laid Li Wei back down. His breathing was deeper now, the terrible grey pallor already receding from his skin. She took a cloth, wiped the residue from his lips with a tenderness she showed to very few, and then walked outside to face the others.
Her gaze swept over the worried faces. Qiānyì, her quiet, brave child, whose gentle heart had been shattered by a betrayal. Yīshā, her radiant, mischievous girl, whose fierce light was now a god's clarity yet remained the family's joyful heart. Her girls, raised to be carefree, away from the strife of mortals, demons, and gods.
Her eyes met Wù Fēng's. The boy who had played with her Shāshā was gone, replaced by a Shàngshén whose eyes, though still innocent, now held the hard-won knowledge that heaven offers no salvation, only consequences. He had learned the hardest of lessons.
Finally, her attention settled on Xuán Chè. Her descendant. The living ghost of a legacy she thought was buried with her daughter. A flicker of a future she never dared to envision. What was she to make of him? The question hung in the air, unanswered, a new thread in the ancient tapestry of her life.
"I was able to remove most of the malevolent resentment in his body. However, because it is resentment, there are still traces within him. I reinforced your seal around his core until we cure him indefinitely. But for now, he's fine. Resting. And I'm starving."
Xuan Che nervously spoke up. "I…I can make something, Ap—I mean Líng Zǔzhǎng."
"You wanted to call me Apo, didn't you?" Xuan Ling said sternly.
Xuan Che was not away she was teasing him and quickly prostrated himself before her. "I would not dare, Matriarch Ling. I would not dare."
"Niang! Don't scare him," Qianyi laughed.
Xuán Líng's stern expression melted into a warm smile as she helped the flustered young man to his feet. "I am only teasing you, child."
"Ò," Xuán Chè exhaled, his shoulders slumping in relief. "I'll, umm, fix dinner."
"You've been unconscious this entire time. You don't know where anything is," Qianyi said pointedly, a playful glint in her eye. "I'll fix dinner. You, spend some time with Āpó." She teased.
"You ungrateful child," Xuán Líng snapped back, her voice rich with affection.
They settled in the small courtyard Qianyi had tidied. As the sun set, painting the sky in hues of orange and purple, a brief, refreshing quiet settled over them.
"So," Xuán Líng began, her voice pulling them back to the grim reality. "My intelligence from Yǒngshèng reported unrest among the nobles. We were monitoring them. However, their reports said nothing of the Blight's return. When your message arrived, I pieced it together. The silence can only mean my spies are unaware, compromised, or dead." Her gaze was sharp, encompassing them all. "Now, tell me everything you have seen."
Wù Fēng leaned forward, his expression turning grave. "The city is not blighted; it is being farmed. The people's life force is being systematically harvested, channeled directly to the palace." He then detailed their shared vision—the obsidian heart, the hooded figure with the chillingly familiar divine energy.
Then, it was Xuán Chè's turn. Haltingly at first, then with growing clarity, he recounted his dream. The paradise of the Yan Empire, the devastating decay, the Dawn-Sigh Blossom that alone resisted, and the terrifying confrontation with the faceless man who gave him an invisible gift and a dire warning.
"So, it truly is her," Xuán Líng murmured, the name of her "old friend" a silent curse on her lips. "She has returned to finish what she started."
Wù Fēng gave a grim nod. "Her presence here means one of two things: she escaped her prison, or she was released. This has the mark of the Dark Gods."
"The main portal between the heavenly and mortal realms has been sealed for centuries," Xuán Líng pondered aloud, her brow furrowed. "How did they bypass it?"
"Only a Tiānzūn can move between realms without a portal," Wù Fēng contributed, his voice low. "But that is a secret known only to the Supreme. For the Dark Gods to orchestrate this… it means the corruption in the heavenly realm is far deeper than I feared. They have made their move, and the mortal world is their staging ground."
The heavy silence that followed was broken by the clatter of dishes and the savory aroma of roasted meat. Qiānyì emerged from the cottage with a steaming platter, with Xuán Chè close behind, carefully balancing bowls of rice.
"I haven't had your roast duck in ages, Qiānqiān," Xuán Líng said, her severe expression softening as the familiar, comforting scent washed over them. "It smells as delightful as ever."
Once the simple meal was laid out, Qiānyì took her seat among them. The simple, homely act of sharing a meal created a fragile pocket of normalcy amidst the looming divine war, a quiet moment for family to gather before the storm.
The family talked and joked over dinner and wine. Qianyi, Yisha, and even Xuan Che told Xuan Ling about the fun and interesting parts of their journey.
"Show me what you've learned," Xuan Ling sweetly commanded her girls.
"I can see through walls now," Yisha proclaimed with a grin.
"Any nascent god can learn to extend their spiritual sense," Xuan Ling replied, a playful challenge in her tone. "Show me something he taught you."
Yisha's grin widened. "Gladly." She held up her hand, and a sphere of pure light bloomed above her palm. It then fractured into countless, hair-thin strands of color. "Shifu guided me to perceive the Traces of Cause and Effect. I'm not just seeing the wall; I am reading the Spiritual Imprints left upon the light itself—the touch of every hand, the echo of every word spoken here."
Xuan Ling's eyebrows rose, genuinely impressed.
Then knelt and placed a hand on the dusty ground. "My geomancy was always about listening to the earth's pulse, its dragon veins." As she spoke, the dust at her feet shifted, forming a perfect, intricate scale model of the cottage. "Wù Fēng taught me to comprehend a fragment of the Dao of Earthly Manifestation. I do not ask the earth to move; I reveal the perfect Form and Structure it was always meant to hold." With a thought, the model dissolved back into neat lines.
"And you, Chè?" Xuan Ling asked, her voice softer.
Xuán Chè looked a little sheepish. "I... I'm not a god. But Shifu is guiding me to listen. He says my spirit is sensitive to Karmic Echoes." He closed his eyes and pointed. "There... I can feel the Spiritual Residuals of a rabbit family sleeping deep below. And there... the wall still holds the 'memory' of a sparrow's nest from last spring. It's like everything leaves a ghost in the flow of time, and I'm just learning to hear its whisper."
Xuan Ling looked from her radiant daughters to the awakening heir. A complex emotion crossed her face. She had given them power. But he was guiding them to understand the very Dao itself.
"He is a good teacher," she conceded, the simple statement carrying the weight of a supreme compliment.
Just then, standing at the doorway, leaning heavily against the frame, another voice, strained, raspy, and a bit sickly, interrupted. "He's an… okay teacher."
All heads turned. Li Wei stood there, pale and trembling slightly, but his eyes held their familiar, stoic fire. He took a shaky step into the courtyard.
"A'Wei!" Qianyi was at his side in an instant, her arm slipping around him to offer support.
Wù Fēng, who had been quietly observing, simply smiled. "And what, pray tell, makes me merely 'okay,' Disciple Li?"
Li Wei managed a weak grunt. "You tried to teach me… 'Stillness of the Heart.' To make my ice not an extension of my will… but an absence of it. A perfect, unmoving mirror." He shook his head slightly. "I am a blade, Shifu. Not a mirror."
"And yet," Wù Fēng countered gently, "you learned to feel the 'Stillness' in the space between heartbeats. To make your frost not just cold, but a vacuum that swallows sound and sensation. That is not a demonic art. That is a step toward the Dao."
Before Li Wei could retort, his legs buckled. Qianyi tightened her grip, but as he stumbled, the unstable, dense core of his newly elevated demonic power flared out of control. Instead of falling to the ground, the space around him rippled with a sound like shivering ice. A cloud of freezing mist erupted, swallowing him whole.
"Li Wei!" Qianyi cried out, clutching at empty air.
A heartbeat later, from just outside the entrance to the cottage's courtyard, there was another soft shiver of displaced frost. The mist coalesced, and Li Wei stumbled forward, catching himself on the outer gatepost, looking as shocked as everyone else.
He stared at his own hands, then back at the spot where he had vanished. The air still crackled with the remnants of a spatial tear, cold and sharp.
"I'm…okay. I think," he strained to yell.
"It would seem," Wù Fēng mused, his eyes alight with fascination, "…your weakness has forced a new instinct to the surface."
"Void-stepping?" Li Wei managed, leaning heavily against the gatepost. "It looks… cooler when Zhǔrén does it."
"That is only because your qi is currently a turbulent storm, and you literally stumbled into the void out of survival instinct," Wù Fēng assured him, though his expression remained one of intense interest. This is a profound discovery. For deities, true spatial manipulation is a discipline of the High God realm, typically unlocked only after the second Heavenly Tribulation."
Xuán Líng, who had been watching with a critical eye, now beamed with unbridled pride at her A'Wei. "I thought the principle was the same for all. The Dao of Space is a profound mystery. I did not master even the most basic spatial fold until decades after my own second trial." A slow, proud smile spread across her face. "To manifest it instinctively, even by accident… your foundation is far stronger than even I realized."
Qianyi was the first to reach him, her arm slipping around his waist with practiced ease to guide him to the table. Her touch was both a support and a silent confession of the fear she'd held at bay.
As he sat, the family's care manifested in a quiet flurry of offerings.
"Ge, you need your strength. Try this," Yisha said, deftly placing a bundle of vibrant steamed vegetables onto his plate.
"Here," Xuan Che added, his gesture slightly shy as he placed a golden piece of scallion pancake beside the greens.
Qianyi, without a word, selected the most tender, succulent piece of roast duck and laid it gently on his plate, a silent gesture that vividly reminded them both of that morning. She looked up, only to find his gaze had never left her. A faint blush colored her cheeks as their eyes met, and they both quickly, nervously, looked down at their plates.
Wù Fēng poured a cup of steaming, fragrant tea and set it before Li Wei. "No wine for you," he said, his tone leaving no room for argument, yet his eyes were kind. "Not until the last trace of that resentment is scoured from your meridians. This will help stabilize your core."
"Hǎo, hǎo, hǎo, Shīfù," Li Wei playfully dismissed, already reaching for his chopsticks.
"You must also regulate your emotions carefully," Wù Fēng added, his demeanor shifting to one of mild, amused caution. "With your qi so vulnerable, not only is resentment easier to trigger, but some of your… ahem… natural, innate abilities may surface unexpectedly."
Xuán Líng knew exactly what Wù Fēng was hinting at. She brought a hand to her lips, her shoulders shaking with a suppressed smirk.
Li Wei watched the two most powerful beings he knew exchange knowing glances, both doing a terrible job of controlling their laughter. "What natural abilities?" he asked, his curiosity now thoroughly piqued.
"A'Wei," Xuán Líng said, her voice trembling with barely contained laughter. "You know fox demons are known for… a certain persuasive charm. Seduction."
"Yes… I am aware of this," he responded flatly, wondering what the issue was. It was a tool, like any other.
"When a fox demon's qi is unstable, their zhēnqì can naturally… ooze a potent, passive allure. While it may seem harmless in theory, in practice, depending on the strength of your specific energy, it can cause… immense, unintended chaos."
The usually unflappable and knowledgeable Li Wei was genuinely stumped. How could a simple "seductive aura" be described as chaos?
It was Yisha who suddenly gasped, a memory striking her with the force of a lightning bolt. "The Town of a Thousand Proposals!" she blurted out.
All eyes turned to her. She looked from a bewildered Li Wei to Qianyi, whose own eyes were widening in a mirror of horrified recognition. They were both reliving the same bizarre memory from their early travels.
It had been a simple stop in a bustling town. But for no reason they could discern, a strange frenzy had gripped the populace. Women and men of all ages had thrown themselves at Li Wei, declaring undying love, offering marriage, their worldly possessions, and a few particularly bold individuals, including an old lady, had even tried to physically drag him away.
It had been so overwhelming and bizarre they'd been forced to flee in the middle of the night, chalking it up to the town being inhabited by lunatics.
The truth, so simple and so absurd, finally dawned on them both.
Yisha pointed a trembling finger at Li Wei, her voice a mix of awe and accusation. "It was you! You had a qi deviation after that fight with those mountain beasts! Your qi was weakened… and you… you oozed on the entire town!"
Li Wei stared blankly at his plate, the piece of roast duck suddenly forgotten as the horrifying implications of his "natural ability" began to sink in. "I didn't ooze on that town," Li We yelled, eyes wide from embarrassment. "Did I?"
Suddenly, Xuán Líng rose from her seat. She ascended high into the air without a sound, her nine braids representing her nine tails, swaying in a breeze that obeyed only her. The mirth vanished from her face, replaced by the chilling focus of a predator. She held out her hand toward the courtyard's gate, and her voice, calm, quiet, yet amplified by an aura that pressed down on the world, called out, "Who dares approach?"
She closed her fist.
From just beyond the protective barrier, a chorus of yells, filled with pure, agonizing pain, shattered the night.
"Please!" a single voice managed to rasp out from the group. "I mean you no harm! I've come with a message… My Lord invites you to his home. He needs your help."