The servants moved like a stirred hive, their earlier composure replaced with urgency. Curtains were drawn tighter, screens repositioned, and incense burners replaced with fresh sticks of calming spiritwood. Within moments, a smaller adjoining chamber was prepared—quiet, sealed, and illuminated by a steady array of spirit lamps arranged in a circular formation.
Zheng stepped inside first, his expression unreadable. He placed his satchel on a low table and scanned the room once, as if measuring something unseen. Satisfied, he gave a slight nod.
"Bring him here."
It took four attendants to carefully lift the frail body of Old Master Chen from the grand bed and carry him into the treatment chamber. Every movement was cautious, as though the slightest jolt might snap the fragile thread tethering him to life.
Mei Chen followed closely behind, her gaze never leaving her grandfather's face.
Lu Chen lingered near the doorway, arms folded within his sleeves, watching with a quiet, calculating intensity.
When the old man was laid upon a simpler jade platform at the center of the chamber, Zheng finally began.
"Everyone except one stays outside," Zheng said without looking up. "Too many people will disrupt the flow."
Lu Chen's eyes narrowed. "And why should we trust—"
"I will stay," Mei Chen cut in firmly.
Zheng gave a small nod. "That is acceptable."
A flicker of displeasure crossed Lu Chen's face, but he did not argue further. Instead, he turned sharply and exited the room. The heavy doors closed behind him with a muted thud, leaving only Zheng, Mei Chen, and the dying old master inside.
Silence settled.
Zheng exhaled slowly, rolling his shoulders once as if shedding the weight of the outside world. Then, his demeanor shifted.
Gone was the casual calm.
What remained was focus—sharp, absolute.
He opened his satchel and withdrew a long, narrow case. When he unrolled it, dozens of silver needles gleamed under the lamplight, each one slightly different in length and thickness.
Mei Chen watched quietly, her fingers tightening within her sleeves.
"Listen carefully," Zheng said without looking at her. "Once I begin, do not interrupt me. No matter what you see."
Her brows furrowed slightly, but she nodded. "Understood."
Zheng dipped his fingers into the bowl of water the servants had prepared. The surface rippled—not from motion, but from a faint, invisible pressure. Threads of spiritual energy seeped from his fingertips, sinking into the water until it shimmered faintly with a pale glow.
He lifted his hand.
Droplets hovered in the air, suspended.
Then, with a flick of his wrist, they scattered—landing precisely across several key points on Old Master Chen's body: the forehead, chest, abdomen, and limbs.
"Sealing the outer meridians first…" Zheng murmured.
His hand moved.
The first needle pierced the skin.
Then the second.
Third.
Fourth.
Each insertion was swift, precise—almost surgical. The needles sank into specific acupoints with such accuracy that even the slightest deviation seemed impossible.
At first, nothing happened.
Then—
The old master's body jerked violently.
A low, strained groan escaped his lips, the sound brittle and hollow.
Mei Chen took a half-step forward instinctively.
"Don't," Zheng said sharply.
She froze.
The silver needles began to tremble.
A faint, dark discoloration spread outward from each puncture point, as though something beneath the skin was reacting—retreating, resisting.
Zheng's eyes narrowed.
"Found you."
He reached for a thicker needle—one unlike the others. Its surface bore faint engravings, almost like ancient script.
Without hesitation, he drove it directly into the center of Old Master Chen's chest.
The reaction was immediate.
The old man's eyes snapped open.
But they were not his own.
For a brief, chilling moment, they were completely black.
A surge of oppressive energy filled the room, pressing against the walls like an unseen tide.
Mei Chen's breath caught.
"What… is that—"
"Stay back," Zheng said, his voice low.
The black veins beneath the old master's skin began to writhe—no longer creeping slowly, but moving with intent. They twisted toward the needle embedded in his chest, converging like serpents drawn to prey.
Zheng placed two fingers against the needle's base.
Then—
He pushed.
A pulse of spiritual energy erupted from his fingertips, surging through the needle and into the old master's body.
The room trembled faintly.
A sharp, piercing screech echoed—not through the air, but directly into the mind.
Mei Chen staggered, her hand flying to her head.
"What… was that?!"
Zheng didn't answer.
His focus had deepened further, his breathing steady, controlled. One by one, he began activating the other needles, channeling threads of energy through them in a precise, interconnected pattern.
A formation.
The needles began to resonate with one another, faint lines of light linking them together across the old master's body.
The black veins reacted violently now, thrashing beneath the skin, bulging grotesquely as if something was trying to claw its way out.
Then—
A tear.
Not of flesh.
But of something deeper.
From the old master's chest, a thin strand of black mist burst forth, writhing wildly in the air. Unlike before, it did not dissipate.
It lingered.
Alive.
Mei Chen's eyes widened. "That's the poison?!"
Zheng's gaze hardened. "Part of it."
The mist let out another silent shriek, twisting violently as if aware of its surroundings. Then, it lunged—straight toward Zheng.
But before it could reach him—
Zheng flicked his sleeve.
A faint golden light erupted, forming a barrier that halted the mist mid-air. It slammed against the invisible wall, rippling like liquid against glass.
Zheng's expression turned cold.
"So you do have awareness."
The mist recoiled slightly, then began circling, searching for an opening.
Zheng raised his hand.
The needles responded instantly.
The formation tightened.
Light surged through the network of needles, pulling at the black mist like a vortex. It resisted, twisting violently, but it was being drawn back—forced toward the needle embedded in the old master's chest.
"This venom…" Zheng muttered. "It's been nurtured."
Mei Chen's heart sank. "You mean… someone cultivated it?"
Zheng didn't reply immediately.
Instead, he pressed his fingers harder against the central needle.
"Whoever did this… didn't just want him dead."
The mist let out a final, piercing screech as it was dragged back into the needle, compressed into a single point.
Zheng's eyes flashed.
"Seal."
With a sharp motion, he withdrew the needle.
At its tip, a tiny bead of black liquid clung—dense, writhing, alive.
The room fell silent.
The oppressive pressure vanished.
Old Master Chen's body went still.
For a long moment, nothing moved.
Then—
A breath.
Shallow, but steady.
The color slowly began returning to his face, the deathly pallor fading ever so slightly.
Mei Chen stepped forward, her voice trembling. "Grandfather…?"
Zheng exhaled slowly, finally lowering his hand.
"This was only the first stage," he said calmly. "I've extracted the active core of the venom."
Mei Chen looked at him sharply. "Only… the first stage?"
Zheng glanced down at the needle in his hand, at the writhing black droplet.
"The rest is already rooted deep within his spirit," he said. "If I had tried to remove everything at once…"
He let the sentence hang.
Mei Chen's expression tightened.
"He would have died," she finished quietly.
Zheng gave a slight nod.
He turned, placing the contaminated needle carefully into a small jade vial from his satchel, sealing it tightly.
"This thing…" he said, almost to himself. "It's not an ordinary poison."
Mei Chen frowned. "Then what is it?"
Zheng's gaze darkened slightly.
Silence fell.
Zheng looked back at the old master, his expression unreadable.
"A special poison extracted from black lotus," he said quietly. "it's… it's something that can hide its presence and slowly but surely effect the person."
Outside the chamber, beyond the tightly shut doors, Lu Chen stood in the corridor.
Listening.
His eyes flickered slightly, the faintest hint of unease crossing his otherwise composed face.
Inside, Zheng straightened, his tone returning to its usual calm.
"I'll need more time," he said. "And better materials from your vault."
Mei Chen nodded without hesitation. "You'll have them."
Zheng gave a small, almost imperceptible smile.
"Good."
But as he glanced once more at the sealed vial, his eyes sharpened faintly.
This treatment…
Had only just begun.