Chapter 27
Only those who have reached the level of Bright Heaven could endure it, and even then, at great risk.
Mustraya, having evolved in such an environment, became living proof that nature sometimes creates not for use, but as a warning—an execution reminding that some things are best left undisturbed, unpicked, and never brought into the outside world.
Ling Xu clenched her fist, feeling the subtle vibration of Mustraya contained in the small vial she held.
The liquid reflected the dim light of the oil lamp in the corner of the room, alive and breathing within the glass container.
The concoction was not an ordinary herbal brew; it was both weapon and antidote.
A paradox that could only be unraveled by skilled hands.
As a master alchemist, whether respected or not, Ling Xu understood perfectly how Mustraya could become a bridge between life and death, depending on the intent behind its use.
Standing still, she observed the liquid with a steady gaze, recalling each drop that had been boiled for hours under precise temperatures, stirred in rhythmic circular motions.
In the wrong hands, its potency became a curse.
The poison would crawl through meridians, paralyzing vitality before the victim even realized death had arrived. Their final screams were nothing but validation of Ling Xu's skill, proof that death came without mercy.
Reluctantly, it negated Ling Xu's sisterly indifference to the chaos of power struggles.
For her, despite the Harmony Battle having erased mother and father, the most important thing was survival, and Mustraya was one way.
People came to her, paying with gold or secrets, requesting concoctions to heal or kill.
She never asked questions. Her duty was simply to brew, ensuring every potion worked according to the client's desire.
She recalled walking slowly among the market crowd, her innocent face and almost constant smile causing people to remain unsuspecting.
Clear eyes marked a seeming impossibility for any thought beyond friendliness, the perfect mask for a keen mind; always observing, noting, and weighing. Every gesture appeared natural, giving the impression she was merely an ordinary alchemist, unconnected to darker matters.
Yet beneath the innocence lay cold calculation, an awareness that the world was never fair, and sometimes lessons had to be taught in unspoken ways.
People, especially the ungrateful, often assumed they could manipulate her, treating her like a tool to be used and discarded.
They forgot that behind every potion delivered lay consequences, carefully designed.
Mustraya, like herself, was ambiguous—capable of being a savior, and at another moment, an executioner.
For those who betrayed, the concoction offered no chance for regret.
Their bodies would go numb long before their awareness of wrongdoing arrived, negating any final cries that would never reach another ear.
"Just once, and this time the sincerity will be evident!"
"Heeeh? Where have all the vile curses gone?"
"Please, sister, my life will be meaningless if everything concludes, successfully completing the handover of duty!"
"And?"
"Your world will tear apart, along with destruction spreading to every domain!"
"...."
"Oh consciousness, can you perform a little analysis?"
"In the execution of which task, my Lord?"
"Honesty does not soothe this worm."
"I beg like this."
Tsiiiiiing!
"Admit that skepticism may arise, yet this humble being cannot be blamed, not even once. Yet thousands of words of plea have been freely offered, seeking mercy to release while granting equal recompense!
"They need it, just as your family wishes for you to return!"
"It has been resolved. Categorizing honesty covers almost all. The rest is adorned with poetic language, containing subtle lies infiltrated."
'Should I believe? Yet judging her willingness to obey…'
Braaaaak!
"Stop, stop!!"
"Be grateful that the subconscious still perceives kindness. But before the starting line opens, proposing chatter is the final offering of vocal continuity, bonding vitally, affirming that we are one entity."
"Mad and barbaric, you truly intend a complete fusion into an unpleasant union?!"
"To hell with the Enlightened Exile."
Gbraaaaakk!
"Once again, the mouth will not recognize the certainty of the hollow area. Speak once, or the end of the agreement will favor death's arrival."
"Very well, the agreement is hereby acknowledged by the subordinate!!
"Of course, there is an agreement, the end of the contract commencing when you meet a superior teacher, or ascend to the highest classification.
"At least Celestial Order, if you can manage to reach it."
"Agreed."
Huan Zheng collapsed before Ling Xu, body trembling like a dry leaf buffeted by the night wind.
The Mustraya poison had coursed through his veins, gnawing at every breath, evident in unbearable pain.
Here, his determination to survive was stronger, far more resilient than the shame that should have burned across his cheeks.
Both legs, once arrogantly bent in pride, now lacked dignity; hands, once a cause, now clutched the earth, worshipping as nothing more than a beggar.
He no longer cared how humiliating he appeared.
All words, merely escaping his mouth, were false praise, deceitful confessions, empty promises—anything to obtain Ling Xu's antidote.
Tears streamed, mixed with cold sweat, but it was not regret that made him weep, but the fear of death, drawing ever closer.
Each breath felt like a knife slicing, aimed precisely at his throat, and each heartbeat like a massive hammer striking his chest.
Ling Xu stood tall, her expression unreactive, eyes fixed on Huan Zheng, still writhing like a heated worm.
Blood flowed from the corner of his mouth, skin blackened in places, a sign that Mustraya had merged with flesh and bone.
Each passing second was agony, each breath merely transmitting torment—but Ling Xu felt no pity.
The memory of Huan Zheng's betrayal remained fresh, like a wound in her stomach, impossible to fully heal.
The sharp stone that pierced from behind, the burning sensation of his own blood, the satisfied smile on Huan Zheng's face when he thought he had won—all of it would never be forgotten.
Even if the world deemed her cruel, so be it.
Even if Ling Xu did not fully know the exact status of his parents, the Honorable, more precisely the Princess who had been abandoned, had no obligation to show mercy.
Huan Zheng stretched his hand, attempting to grab the edge of Ling Xu's robe, but her foot nudged him away with a subtle motion, preventing contact with the defiled.
No mercy, no antidote.
The poison would continue to work, slowly but surely, separating life from the traitor's body.
To be continued…