Moonlight spilled through the lattice window like molten silver, pooling across the quiet chamber where a single candle guttered in its bronze holder. Its flame danced, casting restless shadows that writhed along the walls like living things. Luo Hao sat cross-legged on his narrow bed, spine rigid despite the bone-deep ache that gnawed at his marrow. A soft azure veil of Primeval energy hummed around him gentle as a lover's whisper, yet carrying the crisp bite of mountain air and the faint, electric tang of impending storm.
Let's try forming the Spirit Core, he thought.
Chief Xuan's words from the afternoon resurfaced, "When you attempt to form a Spirit Core, you must draw Primeval Energy from the world around you, not from your own reserves. Condense it slowly let it take shape naturally. Whatever you do, never use your own energy to form the core."
. You'll learn why in time.
Luo Hao exhaled slowly. What could be so dangerous about one's own energy? He shook the thought away. He sighed. A riddle for another day.
He closed his eyes. The room fell into profound silence, broken only by the candle's soft crackle and the distant hoot of a night owl. Five minutes passed like drifting incense smoke before he sensed it—threads of Primeval energy woven into the air, invisible yet tangible, cool and invigorating as dew on dawn grass.
He drew them in.
The azure glow deepened, wrapping him in luminous silk. His breath steadied; the energy coursed through meridians like warm sake, pooling toward his lower abdomen. For one blissful moment, hope flickered.
Then agony.
Blood burst from his nose as his body spasmed. He coughed violently, scarlet splattering across the sheets. Pain lanced through his chest, sharp and unbearable.
"What… happened?" he gasped, clutching his ribs. Wiping the blood from his mouth with a cloth, he scowled. Maybe I circulated it wrong.
He wiped his mouth again with a trembling cloth, sat upright again, and resumed. Energy entered—then detonated. Blood burst from nose, eyes, ears. It felt like a million razor-edged blades of grass shredding him from within. He bit down on a scream, collapsing face-first into the pillow. The muffled roar of his torment filled the room, sheets muffling the sound to a pitiful whimper.
Ten agonizing minutes later, the pain ebbed to a dull throb. He lay panting, drenched in sweat and blood, the metallic reek thick enough to choke on."My body… it's too frail," he whispered. "Even after awakening, the Primeval Energy didn't strengthen it enough."
He slammed a weak fist against the bed in frustration. "Pathetic."
He turned toward the window. Moonlight pooled into the room, soft and cold but it stopped short of touching him, leaving him seated in shadow. His face was expressionless, eyes empty, mind weighing his situation.
A sudden chill prickled his skin like frost creeping over steel. His eyes snapped open. He pressed a palm to his sternum. This feeling …
His gaze whipped to the door. Black smoke seeped beneath it, coiling like sentient ink, tasting of rust and venom. The air grew heavy, oppressive. This sensation… it feels like Malice. No malicious intent. A realization struck him. This must be one of Malice's ability.
The Spirit Soul's true gift, the power to sense ill intent.
*Knock. Knock. Knock.*
"Young Master Hao?" Ming Yue's voice, sweet as osmanthus honey—laced with arsenic. "I brought dinner."
Luo Hao surged to his feet, bundling the blood-soaked sheets and shoving them beneath the bed. He lay back, feigning frailty. "Enter."
The door slid open with a whisper. Ming Yue glided in, tray balanced with practiced grace. Black aura writhed around her—thick, suffocating, devouring moonlight and candle-glow alike. She set the tray on the moonlit table,silver-silk wheat noodles steaming with fragrant broth, roasted three-tailed phoenix duck glazed in spices, a crystal goblet of deep crimson wine.
"I hope the food is to your liking," she murmured, smile demure, eyes glittering with malice.
Luo Hao's brows arched. Liking.He watched her drift to the laundry basket, pretending to gather soiled linens.
"I hear you'll take the academy exam once your Spirit Core forms," she continued, voice light. "How is your progress, Young Master?"
Silence stretched like a drawn bowstring. How does she know?, it must have been uncle luo zhen,
Only him could have whispered in her ear. His gaze flicked to the food tray, then back to her aura dark, hungry, waiting. So that's it. Uncle sent her to check on my progress. Her voice pulled him back."Young Master? Are you listening?"
"Ah, I was just thinking," he said lightly, masking his thoughts. "You may leave."
She hesitated, clearly annoyed by his indifference, but bowed anyway. "Then I shall take my leave."
At the door, she glanced one last time at the tray of food before disappearing into the hallway. The aura followed her like smoke leaving a flame.
Luo Hao's eyes darkened.
He recalled her words, I hope the food is to your liking.
He approached the tray, Uncle must have ordered her to tamper with it.
He lifted the tray, expression unreadable, and dumped everything into the trash bin. "Whatever's in there isn't meant to kill me," he muttered. "Just weaken me. Slow me down."
His eyes grew cold. Ming Yue… you're becoming a obstacle.
He returned the empty tray, sat cross-legged once more. Ming Yue is a problem for later. There were more pressing problems like the agony of energy tearing him apart.
He inhaled deeply, bracing himself. "Maybe I can push through the pain."
Again, he began absorbing Primeval Energy. Again, his body screamed in protest. Blood ran down his chin, but he refused to stop.
Over and over, he circulated the energy, each attempt ending in agony, each failure more brutal than the last.
Night bled into dawn.
When the sun finally rose, light filtered through the window, glinting off bloodstains and sweat. The room smelled metallic and thick. Luo Hao lay motionless on the bed, body trembling.
His eyes cracked open, vision blurred by exhaustion. He tried to stand—but his legs buckled, sending him crashing to the floor. Gritting his teeth, he crawled toward the chair by the window. Every movement was pain. Every breath burned.
At last, he dragged himself onto the chair and leaned back, head heavy.
"I spent the entire night… and still failed." His voice was hoarse. "What should I do?"
He considered seeking Chief Xuan's guidance but before he could decide, a familiar voice drifted through the window.
Peering out, Luo Hao saw his uncle instructing Luo Jin in the courtyard, guiding him on how to circulate Primeval Energy. As Luo Hao watched, black mist gathered faintly around Luo Zhen proof of malicious intent.
He turned his attention to Luo Jin, testing instinctively. No black mist appeared.
"Interesting."
For ten long minutes, he listened to Luo Zhen's calm, instructive tone. His uncle's words were sharp, precise, almost elegant.
Too bad I can't use that method, Luo Hao thought grimly. But even a snake can have wisdom. I'll give him that much.
Turning back to the silent room, he clenched his fists.
"I need a new way to circulate Primeval Energy one that won't tear me apart."
And as sunlight filled the room, Luo Hao sat there in his bloodstained silence, mind already working through the impossible.