It had been two weeks
"Two weeks of endless mist, of damp air clinging to skin, and of silent mornings where only the echo of their boots and the whisper of their breath filled the forest path."
Since they left the cave where they had spent that night — the night when chaos and desire blurred beneath the moonlight, and the world between them changed in ways neither dared to name.
Since then, the air between Yu and Lian had been quieter, filled with small silenced intimacy that said too much and words they both avoided. Yet, in those two weeks of travel, they had also grown stronger.
Yu's alchemy had advanced by leaps.
With every step through this poisonous valley, his understanding deepened — of herbs, toxins, antidotes, and how mana flowed through living things.
From refining liquids, he had progressed to powders, and even managed to create a few low-grade pills. His control over mana and flame had stabilized, no longer flickering wildly.
The inheritance he had received — that mysterious reservoir of ancient knowledge — had begun to unlock itself, whispering secrets of lost medicinal arts. It told him of the way poison and cure were born from the same breath, and how even venom could be turned to healing if one's mind was clear enough to see the pattern.
Every time he worked, his fingers glowed faintly — traces of mana threads weaving through his cauldron, his control elegant and precise.
Lian had noticed.
"Your fire listens to you now," he said one evening, watching the pill form in Yu's palm — round, white, gleaming faintly.
Yu didn't look up. "It's not fire," he murmured. "It's mana — pure intent. The flames only answer when the heart does.I will develop my inner heart flame inthe future."
Lian smiled faintly, half in admiration, half in quiet amusement. "And here I thought it was just you being stubborn again."
---
By the time the sun rose on the fourteenth day, the forest thinned into a low, poison-laced path.
The mist there shimmered unnaturally — greenish gold, swaying like breathing air. Every plant glowed faintly with mana, but the kind that made your lungs heavy, your vision blur.
Yu crouched near a stream, his gloved hand brushing aside a cluster of violet-rooted vines.
"Mid-level poison," he said softly. "The roots are lethal, but the leaves might be useful for paralysis antidotes. If I dry them correctly, the venom loses half its potency."
Lian stood a few steps away, his sword drawn — always watchful, always silent when Yu worked.
"You know this much just by looking?" he asked.
Yu smiled faintly without glancing up. "By feeling. Mana flow tells its nature. The Inheritance has taught me many things" He pressed two fingers to the stem — a faint cyan glow shimmered beneath his skin. "See? It reacts defensively. But not against me. It's afraid."
"You can sense emotion from plants now?"
Yu chuckled. "Everything that has mana has intent. Even poison wants to live."
But beneath the strange calm of the valley, something shifted.
The air trembled — not just with toxins, but with awareness.
Roots stirred under the soil, as though the land itself exhaled.
---
The attack came at dusk.
Dozens of poison beasts slithered from the shadows — serpentine forms with glassy scales that glowed faintly under the dim light. Their eyes burned green; their breaths carried vapor that corroded the ground.
"Low and mid-levels," Yu muttered, summoning his mana. A soft, cyan light danced in his palm — not to burn, but to purify.
"Don't let the mist touch you," he warned.
Lian was already in motion — his sword infused with his thunder mana slicing through the haze like wind through silk. Each strike was efficient, precise, graceful. Poison hissed against his sword but evaporated before it could reach him.
Yu moved differently — flowing, deliberate. He channeled mana into his hands and released a pulse that rippled outward, neutralizing the beasts' venom.
When one lunged at him, he stepped aside fluidly, his palm striking its flank. "Dissolve."
The word resonated with his mana, and the creature's body melted into harmless dust.
But as the fight waned, Yu felt something strange — the air thickened, heavy and humming, pressing against his mind.
"Lian," he called softly, "the miasma… it's not dispersing."
Before Lian could answer, the world shifted — colors bleeding, sounds distorting — and then everything collapsed into silence.
---
At first, Yu thought he had simply blinked.
Then he realized the valley was gone.
He stood on broken pavement, the scent of ash thick in the air. Crumbling buildings stretched into the distance, fires flickering in the horizon.
The sky — his old sky — hung gray and fractured.
Yu froze. The air was too familiar. The smoke burned his throat in the same way.
He was back on Earth.
And ahead — screams, chaos, the shrill sound of collapsing glass towers.
He could hear his mother's voice, faint but trembling.
"Yu! Don't look!"
But he did.
And saw them — his parents, crushed beneath debris as zombies filled the streets.
He had been so weak. So helpless.
He had tried to use his knowledge, his powers, his fragile courage — but it hadn't been enough.
And now, the illusion replayed every second. Every scream. Every regret.
Yu fell to his knees, chest tightening. "No… stop it. This isn't real."
"Mom , Dad...they are dead...no..."
But the illusion laughed — a whisper that sounded like his own voice.
"Not real? Then why do you still blame yourself?"
He pressed a trembling hand to his heart. The ache was unbearable.
Even after transmigration, even after gaining power, this guilt never left him.
He clenched his fists, mana gathering at his core.
"This is poison," he hissed. "You can't fool me."
A memory from his inheritance stirred — the ancient technique of Mind Pulse, a way to purify illusions through inner resonance.
He sat still, drawing mana inward.
His breath slowed.
Heartbeats aligned.
Then he whispered the incantation under his breath:
"Truth is constant. Falsehood dissolves."
His mana flared in a cyan ripple — calm, pure, unwavering.
The illusion shuddered. The fires blurred, then shattered like glass, dissolving into light.
Yu gasped — air rushing back, vision clearing — and found himself standing once more in the poison valley, his whole body trembling.
But Lian—
"Lian?"
He turned. The man was gone.
---
Somewhere deeper within the miasma, Lian stood frozen before the ruins of a courtyard drenched in blood.
The banners of his clan hung in tatters. Bodies littered the floor — faces he'd known, people he'd sworn to protect.His family...
And before him stood a younger version of himself — eyes burning with hatred.
"You killed them," the illusion said softly. "You ran when they needed you most."
"I didn't—" Lian's voice broke, low and rough. "I fought. I—"
"You survived," his younger self sneered. "That was your sin."
The illusion stepped forward, blade dripping blood. "You call yourself strong, but you're just a coward who clings to what's left."
Lian's sword trembled in his grip. His breath hitched. The faces around him — his family — turned toward him, their eyes hollow.
"Son… why didn't you come back?" one whispered.
Lian dropped to his knees. The weight of it — the guilt, the memory — crushed him like stone.
Then a soft voice broke through.
"Lian."
He turned.
Yu was there — pale but steady, cyan mana shimmering faintly around him like moonlight.
"You're seeing lies," Yu said quietly. "And you're believing them."
Lian laughed weakly. "You broke free."
Yu nodded once. "You taught me to fight my demons. Now it's your turn."
The younger illusion of Lian lunged — a strike meant to pierce through. But Yu stepped between them, hands glowing.
Mana burst outward, forming a wave that unraveled the illusion. The false Lian dissolved into mist.
The silence that followed was deep, sacred.
Lian lowered his sword, eyes flicking to Yu. "You shouldn't have risked that."
Yu's lips curved faintly. "You'd do the same."
Lian exhaled — a soft, trembling sound — and for the first time, allowed himself to smile back.
---
The world snapped back into place.
The valley was real again — though drained, dull, as if the illusion had stolen its color.
The beasts were gone. Only the faint hum of mana remained.
Yu stood shakily, brushing dirt from his sleeves. "So… that was a hallucinogenic spiritual plant."
Lian sheathed his sword, glancing toward the center of the valley. "There. The source."
A massive flower loomed — crystalline petals laced with veins of green light, pulsing like a heartbeat.
Yu stepped forward, mana swirling faintly around his fingers. "A mutated one. Its mana attack the mind, not the body."
He exhaled. "After all that, we deserve a reward."
Lian arched a brow. "You still want to harvest it?"
Yu's lips curved. "An alchemist never wastes good ingredients."
But as he reached out, the ground rippled.
The petals flared with golden light — and space itself twisted.
"Lian—!"
The world exploded into brightness.....