The pain lasted nearly an entire incense stick's time. Gao Yang's body was drenched in sweat, his mouth open as he gasped for breath.
The backlash of the Seven Fiends was part of it—but the real cause of the agony was that ball of blood.
The Seven Fiends technique was powerful—fast to cultivate, fiercely offensive—but its price was steep. The rebound struck hard and fast. If it had happened mid-battle, it might have killed him outright.
Still, it served as a warning: this technique was best suited for ambush, not direct confrontation.
His right shoulder still throbbed faintly. At the same moment, in another part of the sect, Xiao Man—who was washing clothes—suddenly screamed, clutching her right shoulder as she fell to the ground, writhing in pain.
The agony lasted just as long as Gao Yang's, before she finally rose, trembling and pale, terror still glimmering in her eyes.
Pulling her collar aside, she saw the faint trace of the Seven Fiends mark on her shoulder and realized Gao Yang had been hurt again.
Since that day—the day Gao Yang used both the Seven Fiends and Seven Wounds on her—the seven ghosts had remained with her. Xiao Man had told no one, not even Gao Yang.
Whatever pain he suffered, she shared it.
She knew she was only a servant. But if she ever hoped to rise above that status, she would need to rely on something… extraordinary.
Listening carefully, she could hear the whispers of the ghosts. She shook her head. "I won't harm my master. Stop trying to tempt me."
Another surge of pain wracked her body, making her curl up in a trembling heap.
After a long time, she stirred again, gasping for air like a fish pulled from water. Her eyes hardened with resolve. "No more. I won't agree to it."
The next few days passed in routine—morning lessons, training, and long hours of cultivation. The Immortal Mistress did not appear. The Twelfth Sister continued to ignore him.
After another morning class, the Fifth Senior Sister called, "Thirteen, come to my room today—"
But the Twelfth Sister appeared out of nowhere. "Thirteen promised to accompany me outside today. Next time, Sister."
The Fifth Senior Sister froze.
A crushing grip closed around Gao Yang's shoulder—enough to crack bone. He gave a helpless smile and bowed. "My apologies, Sister. Tomorrow, I promise."
Once they parted ways, the Twelfth Sister released him and walked ahead. "You haven't left the Azure Mountain since arriving, have you? Come with me."
"Master forbids disciples from leaving the grounds," Gao Yang said.
"We're not leaving the mountain," she replied. "Just outside the temple. She won't care."
The two stepped out of the cavern.
Sunlight stabbed down from the heavens, forcing Gao Yang to squint. The heat pricked his skin painfully. After so long underground, even the sun itself felt hostile.
Seeing his discomfort, she explained, "That's normal. The Seven Fiends rejects sunlight."
They walked for a long time under the glare.
The trees around them were heavy with blood-red infant fruits, their small, human-like faces turning to watch them curiously.
The last time Gao Yang had seen them, they'd been pale white. So they were ripe now.
The prickling pain on his skin made him grimace. "Sister, stop torturing me. If you have something to say, just say it."
The Twelfth Sister raised her arm. A vulture swooped down, landing lightly on her thin wrist.
Anyone mistaking her for a fragile girl would be wrong—those slender arms could crush bones.
The vulture gagged and coughed up a roll of yellow paper.
She caught it, unfolded it, scanned it once—and then tore it to pieces.
Gao Yang said nothing. He could feel the storm brewing in her mood.
Instinct told him to stay silent.
After a long silence, the rotting half of her face seemed to fade, replaced by the cold, familiar one.
"It was I who called you here," she said evenly.
Gao Yang frowned. "Who are you?"
"You may call me…" She paused. "Bai Zhu."
He extended his hand.
She wrote two characters in his palm: White Bamboo.
Gao Yang nodded.
"Twelfth," Bai Zhu said, "is plotting something dangerous. They think the Immortal Mistress doesn't know—but she already does."
"So?" Gao Yang asked.
Bai Zhu pointed to his eyes. "I can see it—you're different from them. When the time comes, I need you to save her. In return, I'll give you what you desire."
"You know what I want?"
"You've just built your foundation and swallowed the Immortal Pill," Bai Zhu said. "The Mistress…" She hesitated. "She's gone to meet Daoist Dan Yang—the one who can refine Immortal Pills."
Gao Yang's pupils tightened.
"I know what you're thinking," Bai Zhu continued. "The Mistress will never teach you the chants, nor send you out to gain experience. You'll remain trapped here until she returns—to refine you into a pill."
"So I have no choice but to agree," Gao Yang said. "You'll help me."
A small smile touched her lips. "The wise know when to yield."
"Can the Mistress hear us?" he asked.
Bai Zhu chuckled softly. "Do you really think she's that omnipotent? If she were, she'd already have ascended instead of rotting in this tiny mountain temple as a hermit."
"She has no power here," she said defiantly.
They seemed to know each other.
Gao Yang wanted to ask more, but Bai Zhu's eyes turned cold. "You're asking too many questions."
"One last one," he said.
"Ask."
"Twelfth's surname—is it Bai?"
Bai Zhu nodded.
"I understand," Gao Yang said quietly. "I'll help her."
"I'll teach you the chant," Bai Zhu said. "I'll only recite it once. If you remember, it's yours. If not, it's fate."
"Since the dawn of heaven and earth…"
Her pace was slow and deliberate. Gao Yang memorized each word, circulating his qi as she spoke. He could feel the air around him shifting, the faint essence of heaven and earth seeping into his veins, merging with his blood, flowing through his meridians, and gathering in his Dantian.
"This technique," Bai Zhu said softly, "is the Bai Family's secret art. Should you face mortal danger, recite the chant and call upon Ancestor Bai for aid. He will save you once—but only once. Use it wisely."
Gao Yang bowed. "Thank you, Lady Bai."
"I'm leaving," she said.
As she spoke, her face began to rot again. The cold clarity in her eyes faded into confusion, then disgust.
The Twelfth Sister turned, glaring at Gao Yang. "What did she tell you?"
"She taught me the White—"
Before he could finish, she clamped a hand over his mouth, her eyes wide with horror. "Are you insane? The Mistress can hear that name!"
Gao Yang froze, realizing Bai Zhu had already vanished.
He gave a bitter smile. He should have known better.
The Twelfth Sister glanced around warily, then seized his hand. "Come with me," she whispered.