NOVEL NEXT Chapter 72: Halfway Yours
The phantom woman looked clearer with each passing day. No longer was her face or form obscured, as it had been ever since he broke into the Shaping Realm. Now, he could almost view the full breadth of her breathtaking beauty, one that he had only last witnessed as a child.
There were those among his Sect who wondered how Feng could hold his composure when assailed by the affections and legendary loveliness of Lianshi. The Young Miss drew forlorn stares no matter where she went. Cultivators and mortals alike yearned for her gaze the same way a parched throat yearned for water.
How, then, was a young man of Feng's youth able to withstand the adoration and beauty of his Fiancée with such remarkable indifference? What possessed the Young Master to exhibit such temperate immunity to her charms?
The answer stood before him, unseen by all save for him. Blood of hair, jade of eye. And a beauty unsurpassed under Heaven and Earth.
That was the refinement of the phantom woman who had haunted him for nearly all his life.
From the moment Feng awakened to the Path at the age of ten, the wraith had been by his side. Though the clarity of her visage had noticeably waned across the years, the persistence of her majesty had long been seared irrevocably into his being.
There was no one else who could compare. Even now, looking at her — restored almost to that same vision of radiance — he failed to find the words that might describe the impossible pulchritude before him.
"Is that woman still bothering you?"
Yunjin's voice snapped him back to focus. The Young Miss's eyes were no longer on him. Instead, she had tracked his gaze and now stared upon an empty doorway, void of any particular point of interest.
Void to the Young Miss, at least. To Feng, the wraith was still there, though the deadened gaze of her jade-green eye was now focused on Yunjin instead.
"The girl has grown well. The matured toxins within her may prove singularly useful to you one day, should we have need of a God-killing agent once more. Or a Primate repellent."
"Young Master?" Yunjin asked again.
Feng turned to Yunjin, shrugging. "Yes, she's still there."
Without another word, the Young Miss raised a finger. In an instant, the sword within her scabbard unsheathed itself — as if it had a mind of its own. It flew with unerring accuracy, straight towards where Feng was staring.
The blade soared straight through the ghostly woman's torso and impaled itself on the wall behind her.
The wraith merely raised an eyebrow, utterly unaffected.
"This one no longer lacks for decisiveness, it seems. I like her."
"Did I get her?" the Young Miss asked.
"No, but it was a good attempt," Feng chuckled. "She's happy to see you, too."
There were very, very few within the Province who knew the truth of Feng's affliction. His Father and Uncle never believed him. His Elders and Senior Disciples either accused him of youthful delusions or suspected madness borne from stress.
Yunjin knew, however. The Young Miss had heard the voice of the wraith before. Though it was but a few instances — and she never properly saw the wraith with her own eyes — the girl never doubted Feng's claims of a ghostly figure haunting his Heart.
The two scions both shared a fond smile, before Yunjin caught herself. Her expression returned to that of stony indifference.
"If that is all, you may leave," she briskly said. "You can see that I am well. Talking further is pointless. Be assured of my health and go back to your estate. Better still, go to your Fiancée and assume your proper duties as her partner. Your actions thus far are insults to both her and her Sect."
Feng did not move. There were questions he wanted to ask, but it was difficult to voice them. Where to even begin?
"I…"
Yunjin frowned. After yet another few seconds of silence, she sighed and turned away. "If you will not leave, then I will. I tire of your presence."
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Feng panicked. "Wait! Please, I just… I need to ask you something."
Yunjin did not face him, but she did halt her steps.
"Being hesitant does not suit you, my foolish God. Ask her your soul's desire. She is ready to give you her Heart."
There was a weighted pause from the wraith before she shrugged.
"Or perhaps she already has. You now need but to reach out and claim it."
I do not need your commentary right now, Feng thought.
"Then stop wavering. Ask her."
Ask her what?
"Anything you want. Anything at all. She's already halfway yours."
Fine. He took a breath.
"How… How are things with your father?" he tried.
Yunjin's eyes turned cold. He thought he saw the wraith wince — a very bad sign, given her usual impassiveness.
"Anything but that, obviously."
Feng gritted his teeth. Could you be any more useless?!
"I thought we had cured these random bouts of callous stupidity from you years ago," the wraith sighed witheringly. "Clearly, my expectations for you were too high, Zhong."
The Young Master ignored her. The cryptic comments of a ghost were of little importance to him. The present bids him to focus on the Young Miss.
"Those are my concerns, not yours," Yunjin flatly replied to him.
Feng remained adamant. "If you need help—"
"I do not," she harshly barked at him. "Attend to your problems and leave me to mine. There is nothing more to do. Nothing more you need to do."
"Do not waver. She knows you are sincere, that you mean no insult. But a Heart is a fragile thing. She is simply protecting herself."
Feng searched Yunjin's eyes. She did not look away.
"If you need help," he repeated gently. "I will come for you. No matter what you need. No matter where you are. Do not hesitate to ask. I will not accept any outcome that does not lead to your happiness."
At those final words, her expression turned painfully vulnerable. The Young Master was reminded once again of the girl in that cell, and how helplessly she had looked at him then.
Yunjin closed her eyes.
"You are unfair," she whispered. "How dare you look at me like that, say those things, and still expect me to… to…"
Feng was not sure of what to say.
"You have made her very happy," the wraith commented. Unlike earlier, there was no amusement in her voice this time.
She doesn't look happy, Feng thought miserably. I said something wrong again, didn't I?
"That's because the happiness you gave her was a painful thing, Zhong," the wraith explained, not unkindly. "Well-intentioned as your words might be, they were a gesture most unkind. The hearts of the despoiled are not yours to play with, my foolish God. I had thought your experience with the Fox had taught you that."
"I just want to know you are well," Feng said, answering both women at once. "There's nothing wrong with that, is there?"
"And why would my wellness matter to you?" Yunjin opened her eyes. Feng was taken aback by the coldness they showed him. The steel in them was akin to hate. "Just what am I to you now, Young Master? No more sophistry. No more obfuscation. Here and now, tell me: who do you see me as in your life? In our future?"
The Goldworm Ritual, Part 2
Sects that practice the use of poison often make liberal use of the Goldworm Ritual within their disciples, who are forced to ingest and concentrate their new venomous tenants into the core of their Dantian, lest they burrow themselves across their flesh and refuse to devour each other.
Prolonged infestation would have severe consequences, not least of all the proliferation of their numbers as they breed more of themselves within the practitioner's flesh, making the task of completing the ritual even harder.
Success would see the final surviving creature's venom integrated into the disciple's Spiritual System, where they can either be extracted as exchangeable resources for barter or be used to bolster their own poison techniques. Failure, meanwhile, would ensure a slow and gruesome death as their body succumbed to the rampant venomous parasites coursing through their veins.
Though extremely rare, the Goldworm Ritual can also be used to awaken a mortal into the status of a cultivator. If successful, the newly forged cultivator will emerge with a uniquely poisonous Dantian. The quality of which would be dependent on how many venomous creatures the mortal 'ingested', but its poison alignment would be of great use in cultivating within areas of noxious ambient qi.
Given the fragility of mortal bodies, however, there exists a firm limit to how much success can be borne from such a method. Past a certain number of creatures ingested, the mortal stands no chance of surviving the process. The quality of a newly forged, poison-aligned Dantian is thus restricted to only modest excellence, at best.
However, as with all things, exceptions do prevail. Who knows what dreaded monsters may spawn across the great wonders of the Flesh-Grafted Empire, as humans subject themselves to no end of horrors in search of Immortality?
— Extract from An Introduction to the Imperial Pharmacopoeia