My new life as a "strategic resource" began with a rigid routine. Mornings were for "physical and spiritual calibration"—a euphemism for a series of exhausting tests designed to map the limits of my powers. I was made to absorb various types of controlled spiritual energy, from purified crystals to captured, low-level evil spirits. The Clan's researchers, a coldly efficient group led by a man named Scholar Hong, recorded everything with detached fascination.
They were particularly interested in the "collective consciousness." They would give me problems—complex spiritual formulae, historical battles, engineering puzzles—and observe how the different voices within me collaborated to find solutions. It was like watching a hive mind at work, and they were the entomologists.
I played my part perfectly. I was the compliant, slightly dull-witted tool. I answered their questions, performed their tasks, and never showed a hint of the simmering rebellion within. I let them see the "noise" of the collective, but I carefully hid its cohesion, its growing sense of shared identity and purpose.
The collective, in turn, was a voracious student. We absorbed every piece of information we were given. We learned the Clan's history, its political structure, the principles of its cultivation techniques. We studied the blueprints of the mine's security formations, the patrol routes of the elite guards, the secret passages known only to the Elders. With every passing day, our map of the enemy's fortress grew more detailed.
My "comfort" was a carefully managed illusion. The food was better, yes, but it was also laced with subtle spiritual suppressants, designed to keep my Dark Seed's growth in check. The room was comfortable, but the formations woven into its walls were not just for monitoring; they were containment fields, ready to snap shut at the first sign of defiance.
Borok and the other slaves from the pits now looked at me with a mixture of awe and terror when I was occasionally paraded through the common areas for "motivational purposes." I was a legend—the slave who had risen to become a servant of the Elders. They didn't know the truth. They saw the clean robes and the lack of bruises and thought I had won. They didn't see the invisible leash around my neck, tighter and more unbreakable than any physical chain.
Tua Bangka managed to slip me a message once, through a new kitchen worker who owed him a favor. It was just a few words scratched on a piece of root: "Roots grow deep in darkness. Wait for the rain."
I understood. He was telling me to be patient, to strengthen our hidden networks, and to wait for the right moment. The "rain" was a disturbance, a crack in the system.
That crack came from an unexpected direction.
I was summoned to a meeting not in the laboratory, but in a formal reception hall. Elder Zhu and Elder Li were there, along with Shen and a third man I had never seen before. He was younger, with an arrogant tilt to his chin and robes of a finer cut than even the Elders. His aura was sharp, condescending, and powerful.
"Wa Lang, this is Jin Lai, a direct disciple from the Main Clan Family," Elder Zhu announced, his tone unusually deferential.
The Main Clan Family. The true power behind the Demon Servant Clan that operated this mine. They lived in luxury in distant, pristine mountains, while places like this provided the resources for their cultivation.
Jin Lai looked me up and down as if examining livestock. "So, this is the freak? The budak with the talking parasite?" He sneered. "I expected something more... impressive."
My collective bristled at the insult, but I kept my face a placid mask. "I serve the Clan," I recited monotonously.
"He is a valuable asset, Young Master Jin," Elder Li said, a note of caution in her voice. "His unique abilities have already provided insights into—"
"I've read the reports," Jin Lai interrupted, waving a dismissive hand. "A curious pet. But I'm not here for academic studies. I'm here for results." He focused his gaze on me. "The Primordial Parasite. My father believes its energy can be harnessed to break my bottleneck to the Core Formation stage. You will help me commune with it."
A cold knot tightened in my stomach. This was worse than Yan. Yan was a fanatic, but he was a scientist. This Jin Lai was a spoiled, powerful brat with a god complex. He saw the Primordial Parasite as a spiritual battery, and me as the power cord.
"The entity is unstable, Young Master," Shen interjected carefully. "Wa Lang's previous interaction was defensive in nature. A forced communion could be catastrophic."
"Then he will ensure it is not catastrophic," Jin Lai said, his voice flat. "That is his purpose. Prepare him. We attempt the communion in three days."
He turned and swept out of the room without another word.
The Elders looked troubled. They were bureaucrats and scientists. Jin Lai represented the raw, untamed power of the Clan's aristocracy. His whims could override their careful plans.
Back in my room, the collective was in an uproar.
'We cannot let this happen!' the voices cried out. 'The Primordial will not listen to a brute like him! It will break the seal!'
'This is our 'rain',' Liang Jie said, his voice grim. 'A chaotic, external force. We can use this.'
'How?' I asked, pacing the small room. 'If I refuse, he will kill me. If I fail, he will kill me. If I succeed, he gains unimaginable power and the Clan tightens its grip forever.'
'Then we must ensure he fails in a way that does not destroy us,' the strategist suggested. 'We must make it look like his own arrogance caused the failure. We need to turn the Clan's power structure against itself.'
A plan began to form, dangerous and delicate. Jin Lai wanted to use me as a conduit. Very well. I would be a conduit. But I wouldn't channel the Primordial Parasite's energy into him. I would channel us.
We would not try to communicate with the Parasite this time. Instead, we would use the connection to Jin Lai's mind, opened during the communion ritual, to do what we did best: absorb and integrate. But not to take him over. That would be impossible for someone of his power. No, we would plant a seed. A memory. An emotion.
We would show him the truth. Not the sanitized version the Clan believed, but the raw, unfiltered suffering of the mine. The pain of the slaves. The loneliness of the Parasite. We would make him feel, for just a split second, what it was like to be a "resource."
It was a huge risk. If his mental defenses were too strong, he would detect the intrusion and obliterate me. But if it worked... it might create the crack we needed. It might sow doubt in the heart of the enemy.
For the next three days, I prepared. I meditated, not to strengthen my spirit, but to hone the collective's focus to a razor's edge. We practiced merging our consciousness into a single, targeted psychic projectile, designed not to kill, but to enlighten. A poisoned pill of truth.
The day of the communion arrived. We were back in the cavern of the Heart. The vortex seemed even quieter, more withdrawn than before. Jin Lai stood proudly in the center, radiating impatience. The Elders and Shen watched from a safe distance, their anxiety palpable.
"Begin," Jin Lai commanded, not even looking at me.
I placed my hands on his shoulders, the designated contact points for the ritual. I opened my spiritual senses and, as instructed, began to form a bridge between his consciousness and the slumbering entity.
But instead of reaching for the Primordial Parasite, I turned the bridge inward. I gathered the entirety of the collective—every scream, every tear, every moment of despair, every flicker of hope from thousands of souls—and I channeled it directly into Jin Lai's mind.
For a moment, he stood rigid, a look of confusion on his face. Then, his eyes widened in horror. He saw the bodies in the toxic tunnels. He felt the soul-rending pain of the harvest. He tasted the bitter loneliness of my death on Earth. He experienced the profound, ancient sorrow of the imprisoned Parasite.
He was drowning in an ocean of suffering he never knew existed.
"No... STOP IT!" he screamed, a raw, terrified sound. His powerful aura flared uncontrollably, breaking the connection and throwing me back.
He clutched his head, stumbling away from me, his face pale as a ghost. He looked at the Elders, at Shen, at the mine walls around him, with a new, dawning horror.
"What... what is this place?" he whispered, his voice trembling. "What have we been doing?"
Then, he turned and fled from the cavern, his screams echoing down the tunnel.
The Elders were stunned into silence. The communion had failed, just as Shen had warned. But the reason for its failure was a mystery to them. They saw only that Jin Lai had been spiritually overwhelmed.
Elder Zhu turned to me, his expression unreadable. "What did you do?"
I looked at him, my face a perfect mask of confusion and fear. "I... I don't know, Elder. His mind... it was too strong. It was like a storm. My collective... we couldn't hold the bridge. It collapsed."
It was the truth, from a certain point of view.
Shen looked from me to the retreating form of Jin Lai, and a slow, dawning understanding filled his eyes. He didn't know what I had done, but he knew I had done something. And he knew that the carefully maintained order of the mine had just been shaken to its core by a spoiled prince's moment of terror.
The "rain" had come. And the deep roots Tua Bangka had spoken of were ready to drink.