Inside the Sea of Knowledge, Bai Xuan drifted past waves of scattered memories until he found it—
a place where the light was thick and golden, where the water shone as if every droplet had been steeped in the essence of rare herbs.
Here, beneath a dome of glowing runes, the true records of the Myriad Drug Pond slept—maps of its currents, secrets of its hidden chambers, and methods for drawing from it without awakening its deadly defenses.
But there was a problem.
The Medicine King's soul still lingered, circling like a hawk. Every few breaths, his will surged through the ocean, sending ripples that tugged at the edges of this place. It was like trying to read under a candle while someone kept shaking the flame.
Bai Xuan's eyes narrowed.
With a flick of his hand, lines of pure soul-light spun from his fingertips. They curved and folded into tiny arrays—webs of silence that floated into the water, wrapping the golden dome in layers of concealment.
The Sea of Knowledge dimmed around him. The pressure of the Medicine King's presence faded, replaced by a stillness that felt almost holy.
But Bai Xuan knew this calm was only borrowed—it would last hours at most. When the array dissolved, the old man's spirit would return like a storm.
No matter.
An hour was more than enough.
He stepped closer and sank into the glow.
The memories unfolded around him in strands of light, each one a scene from the Medicine King's life—long years spent in the valley, hands stained with pill dust, eyes red from nights of failed refinement. Endless shelves of herbs, each catalogued by scent and feel. The measured heat of a pill furnace, the subtle shift of color in boiling liquid, the faintest fragrance marking the moment before a perfect condensation.
Bai Xuan's soul clone moved through them slowly, like a scholar walking through a vast library, fingers brushing across glowing scrolls.
This old man's life… his knowledge is deeper than any I've seen.
A quiet sigh escaped his lips.
"I've tried many times," he murmured to himself, "but I only reached the level of a half-master in alchemy. With this…" He lifted one glowing strand, and it dissolved into his being like warm tea spreading through the body. "With this, I can step into the realm of a true Master."
The more he read, the more his spirit sharpened. Formula after formula burned into his memory, refining methods, rare pill prescriptions, long-forgotten techniques for drawing the purest essence from stubborn herbs.
Then—he stopped.
A strand of memory pulsed differently. Its light was deeper, tinged with a faint crimson. When he touched it, the scene burst open in startling clarity.
*****
Outside, by the shimmering banks of the Myriad Drug Pond, Bai Xuan's body sat unmoving.
He was like a statue carved from living jade—eyes closed, breath slow, a faint ripple of spiritual power coiling around him. The morning light painted his still face, yet there was a weight to his presence that pressed against the air.
Not far away, the Medicine King lay on the grass, limbs slack, chest rising faintly with each breath. To an untrained eye, he might have seemed only asleep—but the strange stillness in his features told another story.
A group of robed figures stood at a cautious distance. They were disciples of the Medicine King's valley—men and women trained in the gentle art of alchemy, now looking like deer caught in a storm.
One young man pointed toward Bai Xuan.
"Who… who is this person?" he asked, his voice low but edged with fear. "And look—our master… he's lying beside him, not moving at all."
The others murmured in confusion, their eyes shifting between the intruder and their master. None dared to take a step forward. Something in the air—a tightening, invisible thread—warned them that to cross the boundary might be to vanish without a sound.
From the far path came the sound of hurried footsteps. A disciple appeared, leading a tall middle-aged man in a robe of blue and white, embroidered with flowing wave and cloud patterns. His bearing was calm yet firm, the kind of presence that made people straighten their backs without realizing.
"That's the Dong family patriarch," one disciple whispered. "Dong Qing Meng."
The man who had fetched him bowed to the others.
"Friends, I've brought Patriarch Dong. He may be able to see what's happening… and save our Medicine King."
Dong Qing Meng walked forward, each step slow, his eyes narrowing as he studied the strange circle of light surrounding Bai Xuan. The spirit stones gleamed faintly at the edges, their glow feeding into the complex lattice of symbols carved into the earth. His gaze shifted to the Medicine King's unmoving form… then back to the man sitting so still, as if both body and soul were far away.
His expression darkened.
"Oh… no."
The disciples stiffened, panic breaking through their restraint.
"What is it, Patriarch Dong?" one asked, voice trembling. "What's wrong? Please tell us!"
Dong Qing Meng's face was grave.
"It's too bad… this man has woven a powerful formation—one meant to protect him while he attacks the soul. He has entered your master's Sea of Knowledge. If we do not stop him soon, the Medicine King's soul will shatter."
The words struck like lightning.
The disciples' eyes widened; a ripple of horror ran through the group. Murmurs rose into sharp voices, their fear quickly turning to anger.
How could anyone use such a ruthless technique? they thought.
To invade a soul is worse than striking the body. Even if the master survives, the wounds to his spirit may never heal.
Their hands clenched into fists, hearts burning with hatred.
"If the Medicine King is harmed," one whispered through gritted teeth, "we will never forgive this man… never."
The mist over the pond drifted low, and the air seemed to grow heavier. Around the circle, the array's lines pulsed faintly—like the slow heartbeat of something alive, guarding its master as he fought an invisible war.
The disciples stared, torn between fear of the array and the urge to throw themselves forward.
Somewhere deep in their hearts, they all knew—every breath they hesitated was another stroke of the enemy's hand against their master's soul.
-----
---