Pain
Hunger
Thirst.
All that a body could endure had already been endured.
Days bled into weeks. Weeks bled into months.Time itself became meaningless inside the furnace's cavern.
Duō Yī had long lost count of how many times the screams rose and faded.How many times the vines twitched to feed.How many faces had gone pale before being dragged away to the cauldron.
Hu Lì. Xiǎo Yǔ.
gone ,refined. They had been spared the torture of waiting.
The old thing had appeared only a few times since then, either to drag more bodies or to test those accursed pills. From the fragments of his ramblings, Duō Yī had pieced together a single name.
The Gardener.That was what he called himself.
He didn't grow flowers.He cultivated death.
A wet, slurred sound drifted through the stagnant air."Urrghhh… bwooo… zeerr… yi…"
Duō Yī turned his head, slow and heavy, as though his neck were rusted iron.Where Zhāng Wei should have been, there was only… it.
A pulsing, abominable lump of meat suspended by vines twitching, heaving. The shape of a man long lost, now melted into a grotesque parody of life. His skin had fused to the bindings, his face a ruin of torn flesh and oozing blood, twitching in the half-light, Veins throbbed beneath translucent skin, his body riddled with tumorous lumps that oozed thick, yellowish liquid. His mouth was a slit of torn flesh that moved without meaning.
Still, somewhere inside that mass, Zhāng Wei breathed.Still alive. Still conscious.Like a nightmare that refused to end.
"Bwuuzerrr… yi…"
A sound like wind leaking from a cracked shell. Then, with trembling effort"X… x… Xia… Yǔ…"
Duō Yī's chest tightened.Even in that state, even when his mind had shattered, Zhāng Wei still muttered her name. The last fragment of his humanity clinging to a memory already drowned in blood.
"I'm… ss—sor… ry…"
Tears or perhaps blood slipped down the grooves where eyes had once been. The words came broken, slurred, as if each syllable tore what was left of his soul apart. And then, silence.
Zhāng Wei sagged, lifeless. The vines loosened, letting him hang limply like discarded meat.From the four who had once left the White Crane Sect full of laughter and ambition, only Duō Yī was left, alone,hanging.
Tsh tsh tsh tsh…
The sound froze him.
That laugh. That shrill, unforgettable chitter that crawled into his skull and nested there. The Gardener emerged from the gloom like a shadow that had learned to smile. His tattered robes fluttered faintly though no wind blew. His fingers long, thin, jointed like branches clicked together as he walked, twitching like the legs of an insect.
"Another failure," he rasped. "But this one lasted longer. Excellent qi retention in the flesh. Yes, yes, quite promising. Progress, progress indeed."
He raised his thin arms, gesturing to the vines. At his command, they released the lump that was once Zhāng Wei. It hit the ground with a wet crack, splattering fragments of rot.
The Gardener chuckled as he seized the corpse by what was left of its arm."Well then, let's not waste good material."
He dragged it across the cavern floor, leaving a long, glistening trail of blood and tissue.Moments later, the grinding of the cauldron resumed. That familiar, gut-twisting rhythm of pestle meeting flesh.The air filled once more with the scent of burning meat.
After that, silence reigned again.Duō Yī had lost track of time. Perhaps days had passed. Perhaps hours. Perhaps only moments. Time was broken here.
Then, faintly — footsteps.Slow. Confident. The kind that heralded pain.
The Gardener was humming.
A tune.A broken, lilting melody, almost childish in its cheer.
He emerged from the shadows holding a handful of crimson pills that pulsed faintly in the gloom, perfect orbs of blood-red light, glimmering like the eyes of trapped souls.
"Ah, my precious seedling still lives," he crooned, voice dripping with delight."You've lasted far longer than I hoped. Yes, yes… I have great expectations for you. The last one must always bear the finest fruit. Don't you think? Tsh tsh tsh tsh…"
Duō Yī stared back, eyes cold, unflinching.There was nothing left to say. Hope had long since withered.He already knew his fate a final experiment before the end.
The Gardener's hand shot forward, claw-like fingers gripping his jaw. He pried Duō Yī's mouth open and forced not one, but two pills down his throat.
"Now now… swallow this, my little sprout. Let's see what blossoms from you."
The pills slid down his throat.
They burned like fire. No — not fire. Like molten blood, like liquefied agony itself.
Duō Yī's body convulsed violently, muscles spasming as the crimson light began to crawl beneath his skin, racing along his veins. His heartbeat thundered in his ears — too loud, too fast.
The Gardener's laughter rang through the cavern, sharp and mad.
"Ahahahaha! Yes! That's it! Absorb it all! Let the roots take hold! Show me your bloom!"
Pain exploded through him, white-hot, endless, mind-shattering.
Duō Yī screamed, but the sound drowned beneath the laughter. His vision fractured, the world melting into waves of red and shadow. The vines tightened, feeding, drinking, pulsing.