Chương 217: Spirits Blossoming (VI)

Long Tao stepped out of the compound, past the pair of yawning guards that seemed none the wiser. His pace was brisk and nonchalant as he navigated the few narrow alleyways that led past the looming buildings and onto the main street, stepping into a new world. It was a familiar boulevard--not that he had ever seen this one, but he had seen many like it.

A singular path dividing a city into two was as cliche as tying loose iron ropes between the two ends and hanging lanterns from them to light up the street at night. On either side, rows of tiered pavilions and soaring watchtowers climbed in terraces, their upturned eaves and carved balustrades catching stray currents of invisible Qi.

He paused for a moment and breathed it all in; the purity of Qi here, in the city, was actually marginally better than on the outside, as there was likely an array embedded somewhere in its bodice doing its best. He began to walk slowly, moving past a cluster of colonnaded arcades where silver lanterns swung from wrought-iron hooks, causing dappled light to break across the jade-inlaid benches beneath. Beyond these lay a series of semicircular loggias, with patches of tiny gardens clustered between them.

Everywhere he looked, pillars of white and silver granite supported wraparound verandas festooned with silk banners, mostly crimson and silver, with gold-thread dragons and phoenixes and other mythological beasts skillfully embroidered in them. A whisper of wind carried a mixture of scents--lotus incense from a distant shrine, freshly fried fish from the nearby food stalls, and even a mixture of foul odors from the parlors nestled within the spottier buildings in the back.

He came to a halt at a midway point through his stroll across the promenade, spotting a lonesome sakura tree in full bloom, its cherry-colored petals scattering gently with each gust of the wind. It was less so the 'impressiveness' of the city that made him feel melancholic and more so the reminders of the sights he witnessed in his former life. Shaking off the sensation, he resumed walking toward his destination--a looming tower on the other end of the walkway, visible from virtually every point of the city.

It was hewn from pale-silver marble veined with jade-green streaks, its ground level featuring a deep-set portico framed by fluted columns that supported a beautifully carved entablature and a low stone balustrade. The pavilion had precisely six levels above the portico, five hexagonal tiers receding in perfect symmetry, each faced in iridescent moonstone tiles that seemed to draw in the nearby strands of Qi almost like an array would.

Between each level, wooden duogong brackets fanned outward almost like blossoming lotus petals, their lacquered undersides painted in vermilion. Each tier had a narrow balcony with a carved balustrade, depicting a story, Long Tao realized--the story of their clan. This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

Far up above, the roofline culminated in a gilded cupola of overlapping silver plates, each etched with the clan's emblem--an arrayed set of blades in the pentagonal shape. Finials of reflective black obsidian soared from the upturned eaves, with the nearby lanterns of pale chrysanthemum glass swinging gently from the iron hooks, casting latticed shadows across the facade.

There was restraint within opulence, a motif of the entire city, Long Tao felt; they used relatively ordinary materials, though they then coated them in a layer of qi-reinforced silver, giving the city its gilded appearance from afar. It was pointless, of course--silver was one of the worst materials to use for anything but enchanted jewelry, as it was a relatively decent conduit for Qi without being as expensive as gold or jade, but as there was a point to the carvings, there was a point to the materials.

He didn't step in directly; though he was relatively confident in being able to go in unnoticed, it was unnecessary. His target wasn't actually within the massive pavilion but rather a far less impressive and almost abandoned-looking building just twenty yards or so from it. It was clever, as the glow of wealth hid the depths of shadows.

He easily bypassed the wards and arrays stealthily implanted in the walls of the web-cracked and weathered walls, passing by the abandoned, aged furniture and rubble, and descending into the basement. There was nobody inside, though there was an active void tunnel placed within the room, allowing someone at Void Manifestation Realm and above to quickly go between two places. As it was an extremely limiting technique, the other end was definitely within the pavilion itself.

Entering the room, he frowned at the strong scent of medicine--it was so permeating, in fact, that he had to block pores in his skin so as to not take any of the medicine in. No, calling it 'medicine' was being generous--perhaps at an individual level, these were medicinal herbs, but combined together they formed a toxic fog that would have even weaker cultivators sick within an hour or two. Unlike the downtrodden upstairs, the basement was in extremely good shape.

Sparsely decorated, yes, but in want of nothing else. There was a bed, and atop that bed was a young woman--perhaps thirty, give or take a year or two--and she was entirely unmoving. Her skin was extremely pale, her lips blue, and even her hazelnut-colored hair was beginning to whiten at its roots. Even someone entirely inexperienced would be able to ascertain quickly that her vitality was being drained. How, however? That was an entirely different question.

The scent of medicine was the strongest by the bedside, as the fumes were practically visible, drifting out from her. His frown deepened, but he endured, examining her pulse briefly just to confirm the state of her body. He already knew the cause and knew his Master was right--even a 1, 000, 000-year-old ginseng would do nothing for this woman except perhaps extend her life by a few years.

She was in the same state as all the villagers who were infected by the parasitic vine--entrenched in a dream or a nightmare, her basic functions cut off from her. No, she was in an even worse state; while the villagers all universally suffered the similar ails, in her case, it was targeted. Examining her roots, he vaguely even understood why--she had a physique similar to Dai Xiu, actually. Some fondly referred to it as 'Vast-Vitality Viscera', though the Palace officially called it 'Endless Life Physique'.

As with most things the Palace named, it was an exaggeration but still rooted in reality. She had a nigh-inexhaustible source of vitality, a well so deep that, even if she never cultivated, she would have been able to live for over two hundred years as a mortal. The parasite, however, was somehow managing to drain her vitality quicker than she could recover it. No, not somehow--it was just the nature of things.

It had likely been a part of her for a long time, silently sucking away bits and pieces, until it grew strong enough (or she grew weak enough) to overpower her entirely. Despite the girl's state and yet another involvement of the Sages that he was beginning to loathe more and more, Long Tao's mind was occupied with just one question: How did the Master know?