Lian Mo walked the dirt road eastward for two full days without rest. The sun rose and set twice. He did not eat. He did not sleep. The blight seed in his dantian pulsed steadily. Each beat sent thin threads of green-black energy through his meridians. Hunger for more essence gnawed at him. Not the hunger of the body. The hunger of the curse itself. It whispered constantly now. Soft voices layered inside his skull. Kill. Consume. Spread.
He ignored the voices most of the time. But sometimes he answered them aloud. Quiet words to the empty road.
"Yes. Soon."
The third morning brought him to the edge of Azure Cloud Sect's outer territory. A wide valley opened before him. Terraced fields of spirit rice glowed pale blue under morning light. Wooden watchtowers dotted the ridges. Patrols in light azure robes moved along the paths. Qi at Foundation Establishment early stage. Nothing impressive.
Lian Mo stopped behind a dead tree. Bark peeled away in black strips. The blight from his passing had touched it during the night. He crouched. Observed.
A small merchant caravan approached the main gate. Three ox carts loaded with herbs and low-grade spirit stones. Guards flanked the lead cart. Two outer disciples checked manifests. One of them laughed at something the merchant said.
Lian Mo's lips curled. Opportunity.
He moved. Not fast. Not slow. Casual steps that blended with the morning mist still clinging to the ground. The blight aura suppressed itself instinctively. No killing intent leaked. He looked like a weary traveler. Bloodstained robes hidden under a scavenged gray cloak from the clan ruins.
He joined the rear of the caravan. Nodded politely to the last driver. An old man with a straw hat. The driver glanced at him once. Saw nothing threatening. Returned to humming.
At the gate the checking disciple waved them through. Lian Mo slipped past with the group. No one questioned a lone cloaked figure among merchants. Outer sect rules were lax for low-value visitors.
Inside the valley the air carried faint spiritual qi. Thin compared to inner peaks. Still enough to nourish low-level cultivators. Lian Mo breathed it in. The blight seed stirred. Tasted the energy. Found it wanting. Weak. Impure.
He followed the caravan to the market square. Stalls lined the wide stone plaza. Disciples haggled over pills. Rogue cultivators sold beast cores. A tea house at the corner buzzed with conversation.
Lian Mo entered the tea house. Chose a corner table. Ordered plain tea. Listened.
Two outer disciples sat nearby. Young. Loud.
"...heard the Lian Clan estate burned two nights ago. Whole place gone. No survivors."
"Fire from lightning they say. Heavenly punishment. Must have offended the heavens bad."
The first disciple laughed. "Or someone finally cleaned house. That family was trash anyway. Always late on tribute. The patriarch begged for extensions every quarter."
Lian Mo sipped his tea. Face calm. Inside the voices rose.
They mock. They do not know fear yet.
He set the cup down. Stood. Walked to their table. Sat without invitation.
Both disciples frowned.
"Who are you?" the louder one asked.
"A traveler." Lian Mo leaned forward. "I heard your story about the Lian Clan. Tell me more."
The second disciple snorted. "Why should we?"
"Because I have information." Lian Mo lowered his voice. "The fire was not lightning. It was set. By one of their own."
The disciples exchanged glances. Curiosity won.
"Speak," the first said.
Lian Mo smiled. Small. Cold.
"The youngest son. Lian Mo. He survived. He killed them all. Drank their blood. Used forbidden art. Now he walks free. Heading here."
Silence fell at the table.
The louder disciple laughed nervously. "Bullshit. No one survives heavenly punishment."
Lian Mo shrugged. "I saw him. Black veins. Green mist. Eyes like voids. He laughed when the lightning struck him. Absorbed it."
The second disciple paled. "If that's true... we should report to Elder Huo."
Lian Mo nodded slowly. "Yes. You should. But first... let me show you proof."
He extended his hand under the table. Palm up. A thin green tendril emerged from his sleeve. Invisible to others. It touched the louder disciple's ankle.
The disciple jerked. "What the—"
Before he finished the sentence the tendril pierced skin. Burrowed into vein. The disciple froze. Eyes widened. Mouth opened in silent scream.
Lian Mo spoke softly. "Do not move. Do not shout. Or the blight spreads faster."
The second disciple reached for his sword. Lian Mo's other hand moved under the table. Another tendril. This one wrapped the wrist holding the hilt. Squeezed. Bones creaked.
"Listen carefully," Lian Mo said. "I am Lian Mo. The one you mocked. The curse you ignored. I am here for debt collection."
Both disciples trembled. Sweat rolled down their faces.
The louder one whispered. "Please... we didn't know..."
"You knew enough to laugh." Lian Mo's voice stayed even. "Now you will help me."
He leaned closer. "Take me to the tribute vault. The one that stores the Lian Clan's last three years' payments. I want it back. With interest."
The second disciple shook his head. "Impossible. Elder Huo guards it personally. Foundation Establishment peak. We can't—"
Lian Mo tightened the tendrils. Both disciples gasped. Skin around the entry points blackened slightly.
"You will find a way," Lian Mo said. "Or I plant seeds in your hearts. They will bloom slowly. Days of agony before you rot from inside. Your choice."
The louder disciple broke first. "We'll... we'll try. There's a back entrance. Service tunnel for servants. We can use that."
Lian Mo released the tendrils slightly. Enough to ease pain. Not enough to remove threat.
"Good. Lead."
They stood. Walked out of the tea house. Lian Mo followed close. To outsiders they looked like three friends chatting. No one noticed the pale faces. The trembling hands.
They circled the market. Entered a narrow alley behind storage buildings. A small iron door set in stone wall. One disciple knocked pattern. Door opened. A servant poked head out.
"Outer disciple business," the louder one said. Voice strained. "Let us pass."
The servant bowed. Stepped aside.
Inside the tunnel sloped downward. Torches flickered. Damp air. Lian Mo followed. The voices in his head laughed.
More. Take more.
They reached another door. Wooden. Reinforced with iron bands. Two guards. Qi Condensation late stage. They straightened when they saw the disciples.
"Orders from Elder Huo?" one guard asked.
The second disciple swallowed. "Urgent inspection. Open it."
The guards hesitated. Looked at Lian Mo.
"Who is he?"
Lian Mo answered before the disciples could. "A guest. With business."
He stepped forward. Green mist leaked from his sleeves. Subtle. The guards inhaled without thinking.
Their eyes glazed. Bodies stiffened.
"Open the door," Lian Mo commanded.
They obeyed. Turned keys. Pulled the door wide.
Inside the vault. Shelves of spirit stones. Crates of herbs. Jade boxes of pills. In the center a sealed chest. Lian Clan seal still intact on the lid.
Lian Mo approached. Ran fingers over the seal. Felt the faint qi signature of his dead father.
"Pathetic," he murmured. "You paid them. They took. And laughed."
He broke the seal with a flick. Lid opened. Inside: low-grade spirit stones. Several thousand. Herbs bundled. A few cultivation manuals. Nothing impressive. But it was his clan's last wealth.
He turned to the disciples. "Load it. All of it."
They obeyed. Shaking hands filled sacks. The guards stood motionless. Minds fogged by blight mist.
When the sacks were full Lian Mo spoke again.
"Now. The real interest."
He placed a hand on the louder disciple's chest. Green light pulsed. The disciple screamed. Collapsed. Body convulsed. Skin cracked. Blight seed implanted. Small. Dormant. But growing.
The second disciple backed away. "No... please..."
Lian Mo grabbed him. Same motion. Seed planted. The disciple fell beside his friend. Both writhed. Foam at mouths.
"You will live," Lian Mo said. "For now. The seeds will feed on your qi. Grow. When they bloom... you become my puppets. Spread my blight. Quietly. Inside the sect."
He crouched. Met their terrified eyes.
"Betray me... and they bloom faster. Agony for weeks. Your choice ends here."
Both nodded frantically. Tears mixed with sweat.
Lian Mo stood. Shouldered two sacks. Left the rest for them to carry.
"Follow in one hour. Bring the rest to the abandoned pavilion north of the market. Fail... and the seeds know where to find your families."
He walked out. Guards still frozen. Disciples crawling. Vault door left open.
Outside the tunnel he breathed deep. Corruption percentage rose. Eighty-two percent in Blight Seed realm. The new seeds linked to him. Tiny threads of awareness. He felt their pain. Their fear. Delicious.
The voices cheered.
More vessels. More spread.
Lian Mo smiled. Truly smiled for the first time since the ritual.
He headed north. Toward the abandoned pavilion. There he would wait. Plan the next step. The sect had many elders. Many disciples. Many weak points.
One man against thousands.
He liked the odds.
The heavens watched from above. Lightning flickered far in the clouds. Watching. Waiting.
Lian Mo looked up.
"Soon," he whispered.
The blight seed pulsed in agreement.