Three days after the sabotage, nothing happened.
No blaring alarms, no overseers dragging slaves out for interrogation, no public executions in the mine plaza. Only a heavy, oppressive silence, like the air before a thunderstorm. A silence more frightening than any scream.
I couldn't sleep. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw the Containment Formation—its blinking blue light, and the small point I had scratched with "spiritual chaos." Was my sabotage too obvious? Or was it too subtle to have any effect at all?
"Be calm," whispered Liang Jie's voice in my head, his tone like a whetted sword. "The failure of a formation at that level takes time to detect. The Elders don't check every rune every day. They will see it as natural wear and tear."
"But Yan is no fool," argued another voice—a clever slave who had been a street magician before his capture. "He knows we were there. He will be suspicious."
"Everyone is suspicious in this place," a third voice replied wearily. "That doesn't mean they know."
An endless debate raged in my head. Sometimes I no longer knew which voice was my own and which were theirs. My "Seed" spun calmly in my core, indifferent to the collective anxiety. It was just hungry. Always hungry.
The stone siren sounded. The fourth day began.
---
Overseer Yan came earlier than usual, even before the distribution of the murky morning water. His face... was different. Not angry, not suspicious—worse than that. He looked excited.
"Wa Lang," he called, his voice almost cheerful. "I have good news."
Nothing good ever started with those words.
I stood up, my body tense. Old Man in the corner of the cell opened one eye, sending a silent warning.
"The Resurrection Project is experiencing a slight... technical delay," Yan said, his tone too casual. "The formation at the Stone Heart is showing minor anomalies. The Elders have decided to conduct a thorough inspection before proceeding with the ritual."
My heart beat wildly. It worked. Our sabotage had worked. But why did Yan look happy?
"This is actually a blessing in disguise," he continued, walking into the cell and standing right in front of me. His sharp eyes stared directly into me. "This delay gives us time to... prepare you more thoroughly. To make you stronger. More perfect."
My "Seed" pulsed—not with anticipation, but with alarm.
Yan smiled, a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Starting today, you will join the Chosen Disciple Program. Along with other special slaves whose Seeds have shown... potential. You will be formally trained in the Clan's dark cultivation arts."
Chosen Disciple Program. The words hung in the air like a death sentence.
"A trap," hissed Liang Jie. "He's watching you more closely. Under the guise of training."
"Or he genuinely wants to strengthen you," countered the strategist's voice in my head. "Faster. Because his project timeline has shrunk."
"You honor me, Master," I said, bowing my head. The right words for the wrong situation.
"It is not an honor," Yan corrected, his voice cold again. "It is a necessity. And, Wa Lang..." He leaned in, his breath touching my ear. "I will be watching you more closely than ever. Every step. Every breath. Every... thought."
He knew. Or at the very least, he strongly suspected.
---
The Dark Training Hall was located in a complex I had never seen—a massive stone structure built inside a giant cavern, illuminated by blood-red crystals that pulsed like rotting hearts. The air here was heavier, saturated with the scent of iron and something darker, older—like freshly unearthed grave soil.
There were ten of us. Ten "special" slaves whose Seeds had evolved beyond ordinary parasites. We were lined up on the cold stone floor, watched by three black-clad overseers with silver masks—Dark Instructors, they were called.
I observed the other slaves. Mostly men, a few women, all with eyes that were either hollow or overly bright—signs of an active Seed. The one who caught my attention most was a large man with burn scars covering his arms. His eyes, when they met mine, radiated pure hatred.
"I know him," whispered a voice in my head—a memory from an absorbed slave. "His name is Jiao. He was a failed cultivator who sold himself into slavery to pay off his family's debts. His Seed was grafted from a serial killer."
Great. I wasn't the only one carrying horrors within.
One of the Instructors—the tallest—stepped forward. His silver mask reflected the crystal light in a way that hurt the eyes.
"You are the Chosen," his voice echoed, distorted by the mask. "Not by luck. Not by talent. But because the parasites within you have 'chosen' to survive. To grow. And to 'devour.'"
He walked along our line, observing each one of us.
"Out there, you are trash. Fertilizer waiting to be harvested. But in here..." He stopped right in front of me. "In here, you will learn to become 'predators.'"
His gloved black hand shot up and grabbed my face, forcing me to look up. Through the eyeholes of his mask, I saw glowing red eyes.
"Especially you, Stone-Eater. Overseer Yan is very... proud of you." His tone was full of toxic irony. "Let's see if that pride is justified."
He released me and turned to the center of the room.
"First lesson: Our Cultivation is not about harmony. Not about balance. It is about 'domination.'" He raised his hand, and from the stone floor, a glowing red circular formation emerged. "The Seed within you is a predator. You are the prey. But if you are strong enough, cruel enough, you can reverse that relationship. You can tame the predator. Make it your weapon."
The formation glowed brighter, and from its center, emerged... something.
A shadow. Not solid, but real. A humanoid figure made of black smoke and muffled screams. Its eyes—if they could be called eyes—were hollow voids that sucked in the light.
"This is a Cursed Soul Shadow. The remnants of a cultivator who failed to tame his Seed and was eaten from within." The Instructor pointed at the creature. "It will attack you. One by one. Your goal is not to defeat it—that is impossible at your stage. Your goal is to survive. To force your Seed to cooperate with you. To show domination."
No one moved. Fear froze us all.
"Who's first?" asked the Instructor, his tone challenging.
Of course, Jiao stepped forward. The large man with hate-filled eyes grinned. "Me."
"Good. Enter the circle."
Jiao stepped in, and the Shadow attacked immediately.
What happened next was... chaos.
The Shadow didn't punch or kick. It infiltrated. Like creeping mist, it enveloped Jiao, trying to enter through his mouth, nose, eyes. Jiao screamed—not a cry of physical pain, but the scream of someone whose soul was being assaulted.
"Fight back!" the Instructor yelled. "Call your Seed! Command it to protect you!"
Jiao fell to his knees, his body convulsing violently. I could see a red light pulsing in his chest—his Seed was reacting. But not to protect. It was also attacking, using the moment when its host was weak to try and seize greater control.
Jiao was now fighting two enemies at once: the Shadow from the outside and his own parasite from within.
This wasn't training. This was legalized torture.
Finally, with a heart-wrenching scream, Jiao managed to push the Shadow out—not with strength, but by letting his Seed devour a part of the Shadow. A brutal, uncontrolled absorption. Jiao was thrown out of the circle, coughing up black blood. But he was alive.
"Pass," the Instructor muttered, without sympathy. "Next."
One by one, the "special" slaves entered. Some succeeded like Jiao, in brutal and painful ways. Two did not—they collapsed, their Seeds running wild and had to be "harvested" on the spot by the Instructors. Their empty bodies were dragged out like trash.
Then, it was my turn.
"Stone-Eater," the Instructor called. "Show us what makes you special."
I stepped into the circle. The Shadow, weakened after attacking nine people, was now slightly smaller. But it was still dangerous. I could feel the emptiness it radiated—a hunger that reminded me of my own Seed.
It attacked, and the world turned dark.
---
But this darkness... was different.
I was not alone.
Thousands of voices instantly screamed, warned, analyzed:
Direct spiritual attack!
Close your mental chakras!
Don't fight it—absorb it!
And my "Seed," which had become a living library, did not panic. It reacted with cold precision. It did not fight the Shadow. It welcomed it.
Just like when I absorbed the Soul Mist, my "Seed" opened itself, but not to be eaten. To understand. This Shadow was a shattered consciousness, without identity, only the instinct to devour. Very similar to what my "Seed" used to be, before it evolved.
'You don't need to be an enemy,' I whispered to it—or perhaps the collective whispered. 'You can be a part of us. Like the others.'
The Shadow stopped attacking. For a moment, in the spiritual silence, I felt... confusion from it. Then, slowly, it began to dissolve. Not absorbed by force, but... surrendering. Joining the collective, becoming one more voice among the thousands.
I opened my eyes.
The entire hall was silent.
I was still standing. No blood, no screams, no struggle. The Shadow was gone, completely absorbed in less than ten seconds.
The Instructor stepped forward, his mask almost touching my face. For a long time, he didn't speak. Then, in a lower voice, almost respectful:
"Astonishing. You did not impose domination. You... negotiated a surrender." He turned to the other slaves. "This is what true evolution means. Not brute strength, but... integration."
He turned back to me. "Overseer Yan was not mistaken. You are indeed special, Stone-Eater."
But there was something in his tone that sent chills down my spine. Not admiration. But... a dangerous curiosity. Like a dissector who has found a new specimen to open.
---
After the "training," we were returned to our respective cells. But now, I felt different gazes from the other slaves—a mixture of fear, envy, and hatred. Especially from Jiao, who stared at me as if I were a monster that needed to be killed.
"We're making enemies," warned Liang Jie.
"We've always had enemies," I retorted. "Now they're just clearer."
Old Man was waiting for me in the cell, his face serious.
"Our sabotage worked," I whispered. "The formation at the Stone Heart is faulty."
He nodded. "I heard. The Elders are panicking, though they're hiding it. But, Young Man..." His eyes looked deep into me. "Yan is accelerating another plan. This Chosen Disciple Program isn't just training. It's... a selection. He's looking for the strongest among you. And the strongest one... will become the 'prime bait' for the Buried One."
My chest tightened. "How long do I have?"
"Not long. Maybe two weeks, a month at most."
Two weeks to become strong enough to escape, or to overthrow the entire system. Impossible.
'Not impossible,' hissed the collective in my head. "We have an ally. We have knowledge. We have time—even if it's little."
But do we have enough humanity left to survive what we must do next?
The question hung in the air, unanswered, as the darkness of the cell swallowed me.
---
END OF CHAPTER 16
Wa Lang has passed the first test of the Chosen Disciple Program in a way that was too impressive, drawing more dangerous attention from the Instructors and his fellow "disciples." The sabotage at the Stone Heart was successful, but Yan is accelerating his plan by selecting the "prime bait" through this program. Wa Lang now has limited time to act, while having to compete—and possibly kill—fellow slaves to survive. His moral and physical conflict has just reached a new level.