A few weeks ago, Zi Long thought. Just after I got his message.
“You’ll get used to it soon enough,” Su Shan said, mistaking his brooding expression for shock. “The exhaustion fades, but the strain mounts. It’s important to keep focused on what’s important—holding out for our eventual rescue. That’s the only thing that’s pulled me through until now.”
Closing his eyes, Zi Long focused on the soul choker. Though his soul was weak and depleted, he used his remaining soul force to push against the choker’s restriction. Mystical runes glowed brightly on the tight collar and prevented it from escaping.
“It’s no use,” Su Shan said. “I’ve tried before, and no amount of struggling will free us.”
Zi Long ignored her kind warning. Instead, he pushed out against the choker several times. Each time the runes lit up in the physical world, something appeared just outside his spiritual sea. They were runes, linked together in an intricate web. After a few dozen attempts, he’d fully mapped out the formation.
How elementary, Zi Long thought. Having determined the primary sealing mechanism, he began using his incandescent force to lay out his own web on the inside of his spiritual sea. He brushed his incandescent force like paint against the thin restricting membrane.
Thirty-six runes and three hundred and sixty lines later, a perfect counter to the seventy-two-rune soul choker formation appeared. It aligned itself in such a way that ninety-nine percent of his spiritual sea was still covered. The remaining one percent, however, became passable. And given his soul superiority over his opponents, no one would know the difference.
Having succeeded, Zi Long sent out a wisp of his incandescent force. He slipped through the multiple illusions and detection formations and mapped out his surroundings.
One campfire, a cage, and six tents. Fifteen devils. Fourteen were early-foundation-establishment cultivators, but they were devils. Devils were far stronger than normal humans. That meant that he was effectively facing fifteen middle-foundation-establishment cultivators and a late-foundation-establishment cultivator. A difficult fight, given that he was only a single late-foundation-establishment cultivator.
Cultivators aside, a few formations filled their surroundings. They were mostly illusory formations that repelled people and demons alike. There were also a few slaughtering formations. He took note of them in case he decided to use them when he escaped.
Zi Long continued evaluating every feature as the night grew dark. These cold, hard facts helped take his mind off their predicament. He retreated his soul force just in time for the arrival of a female devil with long blue hair.
She licked her lips ravenously and arched her body to highlight her unnatural curves, and he had no choice but to embrace her rough, if sensual, treatment.
Chapter 9
“Oh, it’s you again,” an aging man said as he handed a crystal slip to Jin Huang. “How goes your research?”
The gray-robed man had long silver hair and tired eyes. And as an Alchemists Association librarian, he’d likely done more reading in the past year than Jin Huang had in his entire lifetime.
“My research is progressing,” Jin Huang replied. “Though I’m running out of leads, the amount of materials in the library is simply fascinating. It must have taken centuries for Evergreen City to accumulate them.”
“Five hundred and sixty-seven years, to be exact,” the man said proudly. “Though I must caution you, it’s easy to get lost in this maze of books. Library time is expensive, and there’s no need to spend your week of free study time consecutively. Digesting what you learn after reading is the most time-efficient and cost-effective way.”
Jin Huang smiled and bowed. “Many thanks for your advice, Elder Shi. I assure you that my memory is up to the challenge. I won’t bite off more than I can chew.”
The kindly looking man ran his fingers through his three-inch-long beard, further cementing his image as the reclusive expert Jin Huang assumed he was.
“Kids these days are so impatient,” Elder Shi mused, shaking his head. “There’s no harm in coming back once you’ve tested theory and seen where you’re lacking.” Then, seeing Jin Huang’s persistence, he waved him inside. “Off you go, then. Nothing I say will convince you.”
Jin Huang grinned and entered the many rows of shelves on the first level. He skimmed the titles, ensuring that he hadn’t missed anything on his first few passes. These were the most basic alchemical techniques, and while he hadn’t mastered every one of them, he’d borrowed from most of the reputable books available. His ability to memorize and integrate written content could put his master to shame, and he wasn’t afraid to use it.
After traveling through these initial bookshelves, the young man entered what could be considered a literal labyrinth of books. It contained research notes along with various alchemical formulas. He occasionally rummaged through books with interesting titles, rapidly scrying through their contents for anything of interest. Most of the time, however, he placed the book back after a brief glance. His interests lay not in the mundane formulas on the first floor but rather anything out of the ordinary that he might use to perfect his craft.
Hours trickled by as he searched. At one point, he engrossed himself in a series of books on healing medicine. At another, he got carried away reading an alchemist’s brave forays into combining alchemy and blacksmithing.
I should really start reading from the back, he thought as he closed the last book in the incomplete series. The final page was a note indicating that the author had passed away during a dangerous experiment, and that the entire series had just been a massive warning against future attempts in replicating it.
If only there were something both useful and original, he thought, sighing inwardly. All I find are poor imitations and terrible attempts at making something new. As he continued walking through the bookshelves, he held his hand out to touch their spines, using his incandescent force to quickly skim through the contents and get a general idea of what lay inside.
After walking for what felt like an hour, he stopped. He eyed a book he’d just passed, only this time he realized its insides were blank. And to his surprise, all the other books sharing a shelf with it were blank as well. Every one of them had bland and generic titles without fail.
Curious, he opened the first book, entitled Wood Lore. To his surprise, it wasn’t blank like he’d originally thought. Instead, the paper it was made from contained insulating properties. Anyone scanning it wouldn’t discover its contents unless they tried to read it, which was unlikely given its introductory page, title, and nondescript cover. The real title of the book, however, immediately caught his attention. The contents began on the fifth page, titled An Investigation into Sin-Based Alchemy, Part 1. Curious, he began reading.
Alchemy has existed in this world since before the breaking, when Hell split from Heaven, and the secondary and tertiary planes were formed. What we practice in mortal and transcendent realms are derived from this original art, and their angelic and devilish derivatives.
Like how talisman arts have strayed from their original intent of sealing and destroying devils, alchemy has also been sterilized. These days, it’s impossible to locate content on merit alchemy. It is as though records on the art have been expunged from the historical record. Future generations will likely never know of its existence.
Unlike merit alchemy, sin-based alchemy has enjoyed a resurgence. And while I discourage anyone from practicing this terrible art, I encourage good men to study it. It is better to know thine enemy and to be better prepared. To that end, I have left this series of books hidden within the library. Only those with enough merit can read these pages; I hope that you treasure the knowledge I will impart and use it for the betterment of mankind.
Jin Huang frowned after reading the note. He wondered how much the art could possibly differ. After a quick scan of its contents, he paled in horror. The first technique in the book detailed how to grow and catalyze plants using the blood e
ssence of agonized victims. The cruel technique increased the medicinal potency of ingredients, leading to a much higher yield and success rate when used to create pills or potions.
Nervous, and wondering how it could possibly get worse, Jin Huang proceeded to the next page. This one contained a similar method, as well as instructions on nurturing plants by feeding them battlefield resentment and the blood vitality of dying combatants. The largest such plant on record spanned 1,000 miles. It was used to craft a rune-carving breakthrough pill for an emperor who cultivated devilish ways 1,000 years ago.
Though he felt the urge to retch, Jin Huang quickly calmed himself. As the author said, how could he deal with these things without knowing they exist? After the description came recommendations on how to destroy such plant life-forms. Poisoning them was ideal, while another way included finding the root of the plant and burning it. Killing its bonded owner would also cause it to wither and die.
Jin Huang became entranced by the contents. He quickly finished the first book and proceeded to the next in the series. There, he discovered the intricacies of using sin crystals and sin plants as alchemical ingredients. It even detailed how much sin was transferred to the user in the process and how much was imbued within the pill for the recipient. These pills were substantially stronger than those created at similar levels. In fact, it was as though they were promoted by an entire level. Just like an initial-foundation-establishment devil could match an early-foundation-establishment cultivator who didn’t follow devilish ways, an initial-grade pill made with sin alchemy could be as effective as a low-grade pill.
After reviewing the contents of the second book, Jin Huang proceeded to the third and final book of the series. It contained various recipes that were commonly used by devilish cultivators. He gave them a cursory glance, but beyond knowing their effects, he wasn’t terribly interested.
Just as he was about to flick through the final ten pages, however, he cut his finger. A spot of blood fell onto an open page. He sucked his finger as he read the open page containing a pill recipe.
Violet fate pill, huh? he thought. It doesn’t sound so ominous. He recognized a few of the main ingredients, including many plants that fed on sin and resentment, as well as an enormous amount of life force and soul essence. One ingredient was highlighted by an annotation from the author.
A holy spirit crystal is the key ingredient in the violet fate pill. This ingredient allows the soul, body, and qi of the cultivator to be promoted to the peak of core formation and a half step into transcendence.
While this seems like an easy pill to craft, it is very difficult in practice. This is due to the shortage of the main ingredient. Thus far, the only holy spirit crystals on the continent (to the author’s knowledge) are the Alabaster Group’s Alabaster Angel and the Temple of Light’s Beacon of Eternal Radiance.
While some dynasties maybe be nurturing hidden holy spirit crystals, each of these relics are likely guarded by peak-core-formation cultivators and transcendents. Due to the inability to procure the main ingredient, the recipe is considered an impractical pipe dream pursued by only the most ambitious devilish cultivators.
A pipe dream, huh? he thought as he blew on his healed finger. The last few pages were of little interest. After finishing a few more books, his library time ran out. He could only take note of the shelf and remember to come back during his next visit.
“Did you find everything you were looking for?” Elder Shi asked as he returned his crystal library pass.
“Somewhat,” Jin Huang said. “Though I think I need to stew on what I read before coming back.”
“It’s best to be patient with certain things,” Elder Shi said knowingly. “Most people think knowledge is a blessing. But some of us know better. A king who learns war soon finds out its frightening convenience. Knowledge often comes at a price that takes generations to pay.” An exhausted expression appeared on the man’s face, causing Jin Huang to wonder how old the man truly was. Was he three hundred? Four hundred?
He thanked the elder and left. Likely, Elder Shi knew exactly what he’d been reading. As he mulled over his words, he proceeded to the main floor of the Alchemists Association. Then, steeling his mind, he approached the desk reserved for master alchemists. A man in subdued brown robes greeted him with a bow.
“Esteemed Master Jin, how may I be of service?” the attendant said.
“I’d like to know the cost for a room,” Jing Huang said. “And I’d also like to know the cost for the following ingredients.” He presented three lists, one for each of the most popular pills at initial foundation establishment. He’d already memorized the recipes during his time in the library.
Out of the three, the violet qi-stabilization pill was the most useful to him, as it could halve the time required between breakthroughs by clearing the turbidity within one’s qi seas. Cultivators who’d been stuck in a cultivation realm for a long time could also use this pill to break through the bottleneck, making it a very valuable pill for cultivators of all ages and occupations.
The basilisk regeneration pill, on the other hand, had little to do with cultivation. Whether it was a finger or an arm, a basilisk regeneration pill had the ability to regrow the limb or simplify its reattachment. It could even heal several internal injuries and shattered bones, and the process only took five breaths from start to finish. This was short enough to enable a cultivator to either continue fighting or escape the battlefield.
The third pill was also a combat pill. The potential-burning pill made it possible for a cultivator to exceed safe limits when using his qi. Though it would severely exhaust his foundation, it was a small price to pay for one’s life.
“Ingredients for each of these pills normally cost 4,000 mid-grade spirit stones,” the man said. “As an esteemed member, we’re willing to take a bit of a loss and grant them to you for 3,300 mid-grade spirit stones.”
Jin Huang’s smile faded. “Surely you’re mistaken,” he said. “The market rate for medicinal ingredients are normally only the quarter of the price of a pill. Also, the association can usually offer preferential pricing. This should especially apply to master members.”
“You’re welcome to buy ingredients anywhere you’d like,” the man said, smiling. “With so many alchemists in the city, it’s only natural that the prices are higher.” He then handed a paper pamphlet to Jin Huang. “This question does come up a lot. We’ve taken the liberty of compiling a list of official herb vendors in Evergreen City. Feel free to visit them at your convenience.”
“How much does a room cost?” Jin Huang asked, massaging his temple.
“A silver-grade room costs ten high-grade stones for a week, or thirty for a month,” the clerk said. “As you are a master member, you may pay the rent at the end of the month.”
“How could it be so expensive?” Jin Huang exclaimed, then quickly composed himself. Taking a deep breath, he compromised his standards. “I’ll take a mortal-grade room, then.
“I’m afraid your grade has exceeded the room,” the man said, looking concerned. “The kingdom’s safety regulations state that a professional can only work in a room adherent to appropriate safety codes. Please understand that this is for the safety of the general public. Violators can be prosecuted with steep fines, revoked licenses, or even imprisonment.”
Jin Huang had never heard of such a regulation. Though he struggled to see how adequate safety precautions could cost so much, he was in uncharted waters. That, and he was broke. He needed money, and to make money, he needed to craft pills. Time was also money, and he had little to waste in exploring the city’s economic situation. “I’ll take a room for a month,” he said reluctantly. “And one hundred portions of each of the three ingredient batches.”
He placed the spirit stones on the desk, and before he knew it, he was a pauper once more. The respect he thought he’d earned by earning his master alchemist qualification had been nothing more than an illusion, a self-delusion encouraged by the association
. The ingredients he’d purchased would only last him around ten days, and there was nothing he could do about this.
As for the rent… it seemed unavoidable for now. A cauldron would cost him one hundred high-grade spirit stones, while the peripheral equipment would cost him yet another two thousand. Furthermore, he would need to secure his own workshop.
If I can hold out for a month, I might be able to get my own place and stop the gouging, he thought, reassuring himself.
“Pleasure doing business with you, Master Jin,” the attendant said after placing a small bag on the counter.
Frustrated, Jin Huang picked up the bag of ingredients and headed to the laboratory.
Chapter 10
Yue Bing walked through the busy encampment just as the sun was setting. She squinted as she peered at the front gate, the only exit south of the fortress. Guards patrolled the walls while others guarded the barracks at ground level. Every square inch of land was scrutinized as they prepared for the upcoming shift change. Though the soldiers were purposeful, their faces told a different story. It was a story of death and shaky morale, which was no surprise given their army’s mounting body count.
Medics were no longer allowed south of the wall. Three days ago, two skirmishes ten miles apart had suffered yet another surprise attack by the invisible invader. All wounded soldiers had perished without exception. Two days ago, another battle had yielded similar results. Yesterday, more of the same. That was why, despite orders to the contrary, Yue Bing was heading south, where the being that plagued her nightmares lay.
Like clockwork, a horn sounded to announce crew rotation. Soldiers shuffled as the wall’s qi-repelling gates began to open.
Violet Heart Page 9
