The gray light of dawn crept through the narrow ventilation slit of the dormitory, casting long, pallid shadows across Mo Jue's face. He laid on the rough straw mat, his breathing so shallow he appeared dead.
While his physical body was motionless, his internal landscape was a war zone of turbulent energies.
The successful forced Dual Graft of the Shapeshifter's Heart with the Howling Shadow had stabilized, but the occupants of his Reliquary were restless. The Howling Shadow bloated and arrogant after consuming the fragmented remains of Mo Lin's Lunar Dagger, surged against the lower quadrant of the Reliquary. It released waves of necrotic essence.
Above it, woven into the very walls of the expanded Reliquary, the Shapeshifter's Heart pulsed with a steady heartbeat. The Rank 2 Phantom retaliated against the Shadow's necrosis by releasing tides of vitality essence.
When the death meets life, the center of Mo Jue's Reliquary became a chaotic storm of creation and destruction. The pressure against his internal meridians spiked sharply.
Mo Jue's consciousness hovered above the storm, preparing to bring the weight of his will down upon them to enforce order.
But before he could strike, a faint, almost imperceptible vibration rippled from the absolute center of his soul.
It was a blank void. A tiny sliver of space that the Shapeshifter's Heart had accidentally exposed when it expanded the Dantian's capacity. Floating in that microscopic void was a Phantom that defied the logic.
It was the Aeon Erosion Seed.
It did not look like a creature or a tool. It was a deep crimson seed, no larger than a grain of sand. Its surface was not smooth; it was covered in millions of microscopic cracks that leaked a faint, colorless vapor.
This was an engine of divinity.
The Seed had been disturbed. Like a primordial god sleeping at the bottom, the clashing of the Shadow and the Heart had brushed against its domain.
Who dares to disturb it?
The Seed did not move. It did not need to. It simply released a single trace of its aura.
If the Howling Shadow was a rabid wolf, and the Shapeshifter's Heart was a raging river, the aura of the Aeon-Erosion Seed was the overlord. It was a Rank 7 aura. An entity that existed outside the standard classification of the Black Silt Ridge. It carried the weight of the 2000 years of the Demon Mo Jue.
The clash between the Shadow and the Heart ceased instantly.
The wave of primordial erosion swept through the Reliquary.
The Howling Shadow let out a pathetic whimper and compressed itself into the tightest possible corner of the Reliquary. Its necrotic form actually beginning to age and flake away under the Seed's proximity.
The Shapeshifter's Heart, a proud Rank 2 Spatial entity, immediately retracted its vitality, flattening itself against the walls of the Reliquary in terror.
Boom.
Mo Jue felt a psychic concussion ring through his skull. In an instant, the turbulent, boiling sea of essence within his Reliquary was violently suppressed. The immense, ancient pressure forced the essence into a state of absolute, mirror like stillness. Not a single ripple dared to form. It was as if an invisible, planetary-sized hand had slammed down upon the Reliquary, flattening every conflict into submission.
"It followed me," Mo Jue whispered while he had a grim smile. "The core of my existence..."
The Aeon Erosion Seed was the crowning achievement of Mo Jue's past life. He had sacrificed entire sects, cities, countries, and races to refine the life force of millions.
When he detonated his core on Sky Rending Peak 2000 years in the future, he had also used the Seed as the shield for his soul's journey back through the River of Time.
The journey had ravaged it. In his memories, the Seed was a sun of devilish energy. Now, it was a petrified grain, its Rank 7 authority reduced to miniscule.
Looking at its cracked surface, Mo Jue felt a surge of relief.
Had the Seed retained even a fraction of a percent of its original power, his Rank 1 vessel would have instantly vaporized upon rebirth.
In the rigid hierarchy of Grafters, the vessel must match the tool. A Rank 7 Phantom in a Rank 1 vessel was a cup attempting to contain an ocean.
The Aeon Erosion Seed was so incredibly weak, so near to total dissipation, that Mo Jue's 74% capacity Reliquary could actually house it without rupturing.
It was dormant, resting in the deepest strata of his consciousness, waiting for the high grade essence it needed to bloom once more.
"I risked exposure to hunt the Hidden Leech. I shattered my own ribs to subjugate the Shapeshifter's Heart," Mo Jue mused. "But my masterpiece... my foundation... was already here. I should be the only Rank 1 Grafter in history to house a Rank 7"
Having asserted its dominance and secured the absolute stillness of the Reliquary, the Aeon Erosion Seed's aura receded. It sank back into the microscopic void, resuming its death like slumber.
Mo Jue withdrew his consciousness from his Dantian.
He opened his physical eyes. The third slit on his forehead remained hidden, perfectly sealed. He felt the cold air of the dormitory against his skin. His internal foundation was now arguably the most terrifying on the entire Black Silt Ridge.
Suddenly, the stillness of the dawn was violently broken.
CLANG. CLANG. CLANG.
The iron bell of the academy courtyard began to toll. It wasn't the usual chime that signaled the start of morning lectures. It was a frantic hammering. An emergency signal.
Outside, heavy boots slammed against the stone pathways. The harsh barks of the Academy Instructors pierced the fog.
"Lock down the perimeter! No one leaves the dormitories!"
"Deploy the Scent Weavers! Search!"
Mo Jue calmly stood up. He walked over to the small basin of water in the corner of his room.
He washed his face and fixed his hair.
Afterwards, He smoothed the fabric over his chest, hiding the faint, pale scars where his ribs had snapped and rapidly healed just hours prior.
The door to his dormitory was thrown open with a violent crash.
An Academy Enforcer flanked by a drooling hound phantom glared into the room. The Enforcer's eyes scanned Mo Jue, looking for signs of panic or guilt.
Mo Jue turned slowly to face the Enforcer. His posture was relaxed, his dark eyes reflecting the dull morning with unreadable calm.
"Is there an issue, Enforcer?" Mo Jue asked with a flat tone.
"Mo Lin of the Logistics Branch is missing," the Enforcer growled, the hound phantom sniffing the air aggressively. "All Seedlings are to report to the main courtyard for interrogation immediately."
"Missing?" Mo Jue raised a single eyebrow. "How unfortunate. I will proceed to the courtyard at once."
---------------
As Mo Jue stepped out of the dormitory, he saw the scale of the clan's response.
The courtyard was a sea of gray robes. Nearly two hundred students stood in lines. Surrounding them were the clan's elite guards.
In the center of the courtyard, standing on the high platform was a man who looked like a thundercloud made of flesh. This was Mo Tian, the Head of the Logistics Branch and Mo Lin's father. His thunder essence in full display.
A clear sign of his lack of emotional control.
Beside him sat the Academy Elder, looking weary and troubled.
Between them was a large, silver bowl filled with Mercury. Floating in the bowl were three Scent Weaver Phantoms.
These creatures looked like spiders with human ears.
"This is a farce," Mo Tian roared, his voice echoing off the surrounding cliffs. "My son is a B-grade talent! He had a specialist graft! He does not simply disappear in the middle of the night! Someone in this courtyard knows where he is. Someone was jealous of his progress."
His eyes were burning with a lethal intensity.
He swept over the crowd and stopped on Mo Jue.
Mo Jue stood in the third row. His face was stoic. He felt the Howling Shadow in his Reliquary start to stir, sensing the hostility. He felt the Shapeshifter's Heart pulse, ready to fold space if a blade were drawn.
But deepest of all, he felt the Aeon Erosion Seed. It remained silent, but its presence gave Mo Jue a terrifying sense of security. These people were squabbling over a missing boy in a tiny village on a minor ridge.
To a rank 7 Phantom, they were like ants arguing over a breadcrumb while a mountain prepared to squash them.
The Interrogation began.
One by one, students were called to the silver bowl. They had to place their hands into the Mercury while the Scent Weavers tasted their sweat and soul vibrations. If a student lied, the Mercury would turn black. If they were involved in a death, the Scent Weavers would scream.
The line moved slowly. The air was thick with the scent of fear.
Mo Jue watched the process with interest. He had seen thousands of such interrogations in his past life. He knew the flaw: it reacted to guilt, not to the truth. It was a psychological tool as much as a spiritual one.
Mo Jue's strategy is simple, use his unwavering moral that feels no guilt.
"Next," the Elder called out, his voice heavy. "Mo Jue. Step forward."
The crowd went silent. Everyone remembered the previous day. How Mo Jue had humiliated Mo Lin. The motive was clear to everyone present.
Mo Tian stepped to the edge as his face raged. "You," he hissed. "The genius who achieved Perfect Sync in two days. Tell me, where is my Son?"
Mo Jue walked toward the platform with measured steps. He didn't look at the grieving father. He didn't look at the guards. He looked at the silver bowl.
"I do not know where your son is, Branch Head," Mo Jue said, his voice carrying clearly through the courtyard. "But I am happy to let the Phantoms search for the truth."
He reached out his hand toward the silver liquid.
The Scent Weavers in the bowl paused, their many eyes turning toward Mo Jue's fingertips. The air in the courtyard seemed to hold its breath.
Mo Jue dipped his hand into the heavy mercury.