The corruption was worse in the morning.
Wei Shao woke to find frost patterns spreading across his window—not from winter cold, but from the Grief Shade's residual essence leaking through his incomplete control. The spirit's nature was fundamentally opposed to life and warmth. Until he properly integrated it, these manifestations would continue.
His meridians ached like they'd been scoured with sand. Twenty-three percent soul contamination was manageable for someone with his experience, but this young body hadn't been tempered by centuries of cultivation. Every breath drew the corruption deeper into his foundation.
Good, he thought. Pain is information.
The Grief Shade stirred in his soul space, responding to his consciousness. It appeared in his inner vision as that same humanoid mist-form, but now bound by threads of his own essence. The threads weren't chains—they were connections, pathways through which power could flow both ways.
Orthodox cultivators would be horrified. They believed spirits should be subordinate, controlled, kept separate from the cultivator's own essence. Wei Shao had learned that true power came from synthesis, not domination.
He began his morning cultivation routine—not the orthodox method taught to Wei clan disciples, but the Demonic Scripture's foundation technique: the Breath of Acceptance.
Most cultivation methods focused on drawing in pure spiritual energy from the environment, filtering out impurities, and condensing it into essence. The Breath of Acceptance did the opposite—it drew in everything, pure and impure alike, and refined it all into power.
It was slower. It was more painful. It produced a contaminated foundation that orthodox cultivators considered crippled.
It also had no upper limit.
Wei Shao circulated the technique, pulling spiritual energy through his meridians. The Grief Shade's corruption flowed with it, mixing, blending. His soul depth ticked upward incrementally—11.2, 11.3, 11.4...
Slow progress. But progress built on corrupted foundation was worth more than rapid advancement on pure technique. He'd learned that lesson the hard way in his first life, watching "geniuses" plateau at Soul Integration realm because their foundations couldn't support further growth.
A knock interrupted his cultivation.
"Brother Wei?" A nervous voice. One of the younger outer disciples—Chen Ming, a boy of fifteen who'd recently bound a Lesser Earth spirit. "Elder Chen requests your presence in the archives. He says it's urgent."
Wei Shao opened his eyes. The frost patterns on the window had spread. "Tell him I'll be there shortly."
After Chen Ming left, Wei Shao examined his reflection in the window's ice. The binding had left visible marks—his eyes now had faint gray rings around the irises, and his skin had paled slightly. Signs of corruption that would make orthodox cultivators nervous.
Perfect. Fear was another form of control.
The archives were unusually crowded when Wei Shao arrived. Elder Chen sat at his desk, looking harried. Around him stood several inner disciples and two elders Wei Shao recognized—Elder Fang, who oversaw spirit contracts, and Elder Murong, the clan's formations master.
"Ah, Wei Shao." Elder Chen looked relieved. "Thank you for coming quickly. We have a... situation."
Elder Fang turned, his expression souring when he saw Wei Shao. "This is the boy who bound the corrupted spirit? His contamination aura is visible even without spiritual sense."
"The binding was approved by Elder Wei," Wei Shao said evenly. "If there's a problem with my presence, I can leave."
"No, stay." Elder Murong waved dismissively. "We need someone who knows the archives. Chen says you've been cataloging efficiently."
Elder Chen nodded. "Indeed. Wei Shao has memorized the organizational system faster than any assistant I've had. He can locate specific texts in minutes."
This was true. Wei Shao had spent his first two days in the archives memorizing not just where things were, but what they contained. Information architecture was power.
"The situation," Elder Fang said, clearly unhappy about explaining to a Mortal Shell cultivator, "is that the Crimson Lotus Sect has requested several historical documents as part of the marriage negotiation with the Wei clan."
Ah. The engagement. Wei Shao kept his expression neutral.
"They want records of our clan's spirit binding lineages," Elder Murong continued. "Specifically, the techniques used by our ancestors to bind rare spirits. It's standard for marriage alliances—showing our bloodline's cultivation potential."
"And the problem?" Wei Shao asked.
"The problem," Elder Fang said acidly, "is that those records are stored in the Restricted Section. Which has been sealed for three months due to a formation malfunction. Elder Murong has been attempting to repair it, but progress has been... slow."
Elder Murong's face darkened. "The formation is ancient—early Soul Integration level work. Whoever created it used techniques we no longer fully understand. I've identified the damaged nodes, but repairing them without causing a cascade failure requires extensive study."
"The Crimson Lotus Sect expects the documents in five days," Elder Fang added. "If we can't deliver, it will be seen as an insult. The engagement may be called off."
In his first life, this had happened. The formation had remained broken for six months. The Crimson Lotus Sect, insulted by the delay, had demanded additional concessions—including Wei Lin being sent to their sect immediately rather than after a proper engagement period. She'd died there within a year, poisoned in sect politics.
Wei Shao had spent forty years avenging her.
"May I see the formation?" he asked.
The elders exchanged glances.
"You understand formations?" Elder Murong sounded skeptical.
"I understand record-keeping," Wei Shao said. "Elder Chen has been teaching me how the archive's organization relates to its protective formations. Perhaps a fresh perspective would help."
It was plausible enough. Elder Chen nodded enthusiastically. "He's been quite diligent. Very detail-oriented."
Elder Murong considered, then shrugged. "Very well. Follow me. But don't touch anything."
The Restricted Section was located in the archive's deepest level, behind a door inscribed with layers of formations that glowed faintly with spiritual energy. Most of the formations were active—authentication layers, protective barriers, anti-theft measures. But one section, near the door's center, was dark.
"Here." Elder Murong pointed to a complex array of interlocking glyphs. "These three nodes have failed. The formation was designed so that all nodes must be active for the door to open. Forcing it would trigger defensive measures."
Wei Shao studied the formation. He recognized it immediately—the Heaven Sealing Archive Method, created by the formation master Yun Tianhe two hundred years ago. In Wei Shao's previous life, he'd spent six months studying Yun Tianhe's techniques after stealing his complete works from the Azure Sky Sect.
The formation's genius was its redundancy. Each node was actually three sub-formations working in concert. If one failed, the others would compensate—unless the failure was in the central synchronization glyph, which was exactly what had happened here.
"The problem is the resonance timing," Wei Shao said, pointing to specific glyphs. "These nodes are trying to pulse at slightly different frequencies. The central synchronization glyph should harmonize them, but it's cracked here—see the line?"
Elder Murong's eyes widened. "I... hadn't noticed that crack. It's nearly invisible."
"I have good eyes," Wei Shao said. Which was true—the Grief Shade's essence enhanced his perception, though he couldn't explain that. "If you repair the synchronization glyph first, the other nodes should self-correct."
"That's..." Elder Murong frowned. "That might actually work. But repairing that specific glyph requires incredibly precise essence control. Even a slight error could cause the entire formation to collapse."
"How precise?"
"Soul Condensation realm minimum. Even then, it would take hours of sustained focus."
Wei Shao nodded slowly, as if considering. In truth, he was calculating whether he could pull this off at his current level. The Grief Shade's essence was unstable, chaotic—normally unsuitable for precision work.
But the Demonic Scripture taught that corruption wasn't random. It was pain given structure. And structure could be controlled.
"What if," Wei Shao said carefully, "someone used corrupted essence?"
Elder Murong blinked. "What? No. Corrupted essence is inherently unstable. Using it for formation work would be like trying to write with fire."
"But formations don't care about purity," Wei Shao pressed. "They care about essence density and control. If someone could compress corrupted essence tightly enough, stabilize it temporarily, wouldn't it function the same as pure essence for the purposes of glyph repair?"
"Theoretically, perhaps. But no one with corrupted essence would have that level of control—" Elder Murong stopped, staring at Wei Shao. "You can't be suggesting..."
"Let me try," Wei Shao said. "If I fail, the formation collapses. But you said you've been working on this for three months with no progress. The formation may collapse anyway if left unrepaired. At worst, I accelerate an inevitable outcome."
Elder Fang looked appalled. "Absolutely not. We are not letting a Mortal Shell cultivator with a corrupted spirit attempt Soul Condensation level formation work—"
"Elder Wei approved my binding," Wei Shao interrupted. "He said the clan lost nothing if I damaged myself experimenting. This is an experiment. If I succeed, the clan gains access to the Restricted Section. If I fail, you've lost nothing you wouldn't have lost anyway."
The logic was airtight, if cold. Elder Murong and Elder Fang exchanged glances.
"The boy has a point," Elder Murong admitted reluctantly. "And... I am curious. I've never seen anyone attempt formation work with corrupted essence. Even if he fails, observing the attempt might yield useful data."
"This is madness," Elder Fang muttered. But he didn't object further.
Elder Murong nodded slowly. "Very well. Wei Shao, you have one attempt. If you cause a cascade failure, I'll report your recklessness to your father."
"Understood."
Wei Shao stepped forward to the door, placing his right hand near the cracked synchronization glyph. The Grief Shade stirred, sensing his intent.
I need precision, he told the spirit silently. Can you manage that?
The response wasn't words—spirits rarely communicated in language. Instead, it was a feeling, a sense of... curiosity? The Grief Shade had been born from tragedy and existed in chaos. The concept of precise control was foreign to it.
But it was bound to Wei Shao now. And it was intelligent enough to understand that his success meant its survival.
Wei Shao closed his eyes and began to circulate the Breath of Acceptance, drawing essence through his meridians. The Grief Shade's corruption flowed with it—cold, chaotic, painful. But within the chaos, there were patterns. Grief wasn't random. It had rhythms, cadences, structures born from the three hundred seventy-two deaths that created it.
Wei Shao grasped those structures and compressed them.
The technique was called the Demon's Needle—a method from the Demonic Scripture for focusing corrupted essence into a single point. It required accepting tremendous pain, because you were essentially forcing all of a spirit's chaotic power through your meridians at once.
Blood vessels burst in Wei Shao's eyes. His right arm trembled. But the essence—gray, cold, tinged with corruption—condensed into a thread thin as spider silk.
Elder Murong gasped. "Impossible..."
Wei Shao extended the thread toward the cracked synchronization glyph. His control wavered—the Grief Shade's essence wanted to expand, to dissipate, to return to chaos. But Wei Shao held it, compressed it, shaped it.
The thread touched the crack.
For a heartbeat, nothing happened.
Then the glyph began to glow—not the warm gold of pure essence, but a cold silver-gray. The corrupted essence flowed into the crack, filling it, sealing it. The synchronization glyph pulsed once, twice—
The three failing nodes flared to life.
The entire formation rippled, glyphs lighting up in sequence like falling dominoes. The door shuddered, and with a sound like breaking ice, it swung open.
Wei Shao collapsed.
He woke to find Elder Chen's worried face hovering above him.
"Don't move. You've suffered severe meridian damage."
Wei Shao assessed his condition. Elder Chen wasn't wrong—his right arm's meridians felt like they'd been scraped raw. His soul depth had actually decreased slightly, dropping from 11.4 to 10.8. The cost of forcing corrupted essence through channels not designed for it.
But it would heal. And the knowledge that he could perform Soul Condensation level techniques at Mortal Shell realm, even at great cost, was worth the price.
"Did it work?" he asked, his voice rough.
"It worked." Elder Murong's voice, tinged with something between awe and horror. "I've never seen anything like that. Using corrupted essence for formation work... the theory alone will require years of study."
"The Restricted Section is accessible," Elder Fang added, sounding deeply uncomfortable. "We can retrieve the documents for the Crimson Lotus Sect."
Wei Shao tried to sit up. Elder Chen pushed him back down. "Rest. You've earned it. The clan owes you a debt for this."
A debt. Good. Debts could be collected.
"There is one thing," Wei Shao said. "When the engagement is announced, I'd like to be present."
Elder Fang frowned. "Why? It doesn't concern you—" He stopped, realizing the implication. "Ah. Your sister."
"Yes. My sister." Wei Shao met the elder's eyes. "I may be worthless as a cultivator, but I'm still her brother. I should be there."
It was the perfect excuse. Familial devotion was respected, even from failures.
"I'll arrange it," Elder Chen said gently.
After the elders left, Wei Shao lay in the archive's recovery room, staring at the ceiling. The Grief Shade pulsed weakly in his soul space, exhausted from the effort.
Well done, he told it. Rest. We'll need our strength soon.
The engagement announcement was in three days. In his first life, it had been a grand affair—the Wei clan presenting Wei Lin to the Crimson Lotus Sect's representative, formalizing the alliance.
In his first life, Wei Shao had watched from the crowd, powerless and bitter.
This time would be different.
This time, he had a corrupted spirit, forbidden knowledge, and a plan that would either save his sister or doom them both.
Either way, it would be better than watching her die slowly in a sect that saw her as a political tool.
Wei Shao closed his eyes and began to cultivate, accepting the pain of his damaged meridians as the price of progress.
In the cultivation world, nothing worthwhile came free.
And Wei Shao was preparing to purchase something very expensive indeed.