Another disciple rushed over and whispered urgently into the Enforcement disciple's ear.
Xie Zhaolin knelt on the ground, straining to catch their words. Her Primordial Soul was too weak, she couldn't even release her divine sense, so all she could do was watch their expressions.
The Enforcement disciple's face darkened. "Why didn't you tell me something this big earlier?!"
He turned to leave, then caught sight of Xie Zhaolin still kneeling there. His eyes flickered with impatience. "Get lost." He flicked his sleeve and strode away. "Don't get in the way."
She stayed motionless, maintaining her respectful posture. Inside her sleeve, three fingers on her left hand had turned bone white from how hard she was gripping. The crooked Hehuan Sect pattern she'd stitched into that handkerchief was soaked through with sweat in her palm.
Only when their footsteps faded completely did she finally lift the straw hat.
Her fingertips trembled faintly inside her sleeve. That sloppy embroidery had been forced out just last night, her untrained left hand stabbing the needle until it bled. She never thought it would actually save her life today.
Lowering her lashes, she hid the glint in her eyes beneath the shadows. When the footsteps finally vanished around the street corner, she calmly pulled out a few copper coins and handed them to the stunned shopkeeper.
By the time she stepped out of the fabric shop, dusk had already colored the sky. She wrapped her rough hemp cloak tighter and melted into the crowd of people heading home.
She needed to leave this city soon.
But one question gnawed at her: how did Yu Xiaotang know she was still alive? This fragment of her Primordial Soul had separated long before Yu Xiaotang was even born. It was impossible for a tracking mark to be planted.
Even so, she wasn't at ease. She checked herself carefully again. Nothing. No signs at all. And yet her unease only deepened. Her fingertips rubbed at her sleeve without thought. Her mind spun.
"A soul lamp?" she muttered silently. Then shook her head. "Impossible."
That soul lamp had been taken back from the Sect by her own hand a hundred years ago. An item that could resonate with her Primordial Soul and reveal signs of life—she would never have left it in someone else's grasp. She remembered it clearly: her storage ring, the only item she valued aside from her life-bound artifact, had been obliterated by thunder. The soul lamp had turned to ash with it.
That left only one conclusion.
Yu Xiaotang's methods were far more terrifying than she'd imagined.
Xie Zhaolin didn't head straight back to the small courtyard on the outskirts.
She lingered among the farmers returning home, wandered slowly down a few alleys, and even stopped at a southern shop to haggle over needles and thread. In the end she bought nothing but coarse salt.
The sky grew darker. Vendors packed up their stalls one by one.
She slipped into a narrow alley and stood in the shadows for a while, making sure the Enforcement disciples hadn't followed. Then she circled to a rice shop in the west of the city, spent her remaining coins on half a measure of brown rice and a bundle of greens.
Like a frugal, penny-pinching country girl.
By the time she stepped back onto the road out of town, the sky was sinking into full twilight.
She'd already made up her mind. As soon as she grasped the Xuan Yin Foundation Building Technique, she'd leave this place immediately.
Yu Xiaotang might not stoop to personally visiting such a backwater, but Xie Zhaolin didn't dare bet on it. Not when her life was on the line. Right now she was just a mortal, not even worth the trouble of a Foundation Establishment cultivator. Even a mere Qi Refining cultivator could crush her like an ant.
Thankfully, the return trip was uneventful. She slipped safely back to her little courtyard on the edge of the city. After choking down a few rough bites of food, she lit the oil lamp and opened the jade slip of the Xuan Yin Foundation Building Technique.
This was a forbidden art of the demonic path, created for those without spiritual roots. It forged a path against the heavens, tempering the body with baleful qi to forcibly carve open spiritual meridians. The process was agony and the risk of going mad was high, but it was the only shortcut for a mortal to step onto the Immortal Path.
She drew in a deep breath and began guiding the baleful qi as the method instructed.
The city outskirts were perfect. Far from other cultivators' eyes and close to the mass grave, where decades of resentment and death had gathered. It was the ideal source of qi for this technique.
Her hands formed a seal, fingertips glowing with faint black light. Soft incantations slipped from her lips. Wisps of gray-black qi seeped up from the ground, coiling around her wrists like venomous snakes.
It was earth baleful qi, mingled with lingering pain and hatred from the dead. Ordinary cultivators would avoid it at all costs. For a demonic art like this, it was nourishment.
"Hsss—"
The instant the qi invaded her body, her entire frame convulsed. A bone-deep chill wrapped around her meridians.
Fragments of memory swirled inside the qi: the wails of wrongful deaths, the sobs of the grieving, the venomous curses of the vengeful. All of it crashed into her mind like a tide.
Pain exploded across her body. Cold sweat streamed down her face, but she bit down hard and forced herself not to scream. She couldn't let a single sound escape. Her body was too fragile. Even a cry of pain might break the fragile cycle.
The baleful qi rampaged through her, battering against her sealed meridians. Blood spilled from the corner of her lips, staining her clothes.
Not enough. She needed more.
Grinding her teeth, she pushed the technique harder. The qi slashed through her meridians like blades, scraping them open inch by inch. Her vision blurred, darkness pressed against her, but her Primordial Soul forced her to stay conscious. Her awareness stretched thin, pulled back and forth like a rag about to tear. She could feel the fine threads of new pathways opening in her body, hair-thin but real. This was the true cruelty and genius of the technique.
Using malice as the blade, carving channels for qi into a body that had none. Breaking down a mortal's body piece by piece, then reforging it anew. Only now did she fully understand why this was called a forbidden art. A single slip, the tiniest distraction, and she'd die torn apart by baleful qi.
Her strength drained rapidly. An hour of practice had already pushed this mortal shell to its limit. Every muscle spasmed, her organs throbbed with the threat of collapse. If this went on, her body would shatter before her cultivation advanced.
Her left hand trembled as she dug into a hidden pouch at her waist and pulled out a small green porcelain vial. Her last safeguard. Inside were three low-grade Bigu Pills.
For mortals, they were the only thing barely safe to take. One pill could stave off hunger and thirst for seven days. The qi inside was weak, nearly useless for cultivation, but right now it was medicine for survival.
They'd been meant as her final reserve for flight. Now she had no choice but to use them early.
She tilted back her head and swallowed one. Warmth spread slowly from her dantian, her body regaining a sliver of strength.
"Just hold on…" she whispered to herself, nails digging into her palms.
If she couldn't even pass this trial, how could she ever stand against Yu Xiaotang's pursuit? Better to endure pain now than be slaughtered later.
Bit by bit, her breathing steadied. The wild qi began to move in cycles. She could feel the fragile channels solidifying. If she kept this up, she'd finish the first stage of tempering. The blood at her lips had dried. The Fasting Pill gave her body just enough strength to endure.
"Almost there…" A flicker of hope lit her chest. The black glow at her fingertips grew brighter. The baleful qi churned through her body, widening the channels each time it passed.
The pain was still there, sharp and cruel, but no longer unbearable.
Just as she reached the brink—
Crack.