In the days following the semi-final, a strange calm settled over the Heretic Team's corner of the tower. The overt hostility had been replaced by a wary, grudging respect. No one dared to challenge them openly, but they were watched constantly. Bu He spent most of this time in quiet meditation, not to cultivate, but to fight the quiet war against the hunger in his core and to understand the immense power he had unleashed.
The reward for reaching the finals was access to the tower's most sacred and guarded location: the Core Archives. It was not a place one could simply walk into. It was an ancient library, a vault of knowledge built into the very heart of the mountain, filled not just with books, but with soul stones containing the memories of past masters, the bones of legendary beasts, and heretical texts sealed with powerful arrays.
As the team approached the massive bronze doors of the archives, they were met by a wizened, ancient librarian who seemed as old as the archives themselves. His eyes, cloudy with age, seemed to see right through them, lingering on Bu He with a flicker of recognition.
"The Heretic Team," the librarian rasped, his voice like the rustling of dry parchment. "The answers you seek are often hidden in the questions you are afraid to ask. The shelves do not lie, but every truth has its price."
With a wave of his hand, the great doors groaned open. Inside, the air hummed with ancient knowledge. The team split up. Ci Ying headed for the section on advanced fire arts, seeking to refine her techniques. Jian Ming, in what was paradise for a historian, lost himself among the scrolls detailing the secret histories of the great sects. Lian Hua sought out maps of Leyna flows and natural energy nexuses.
Bu He, however, followed a list given to him by Elder Bao. It led him down a spiraling staircase, into the deepest, dustiest, and most forbidden section of the archives: "Heresies and Rejected Paths."
For hours, he pored over brittle scrolls. Most were the ramblings of madmen or the failed theories of forgotten masters. But then, he found it. A collection of fragmented texts, bound in hardened beast-hide, similar to the one Bao had shown him. It spoke of a forbidden myth, a blasphemous legend.
"The earth breathes, for it was once alive," one passage read. "Its blood is Leyna, its bones are the mountains. Those who beg for power from the Heavens walk upon its back but forget the soul in the soil. But some, the rejected, can hear the earth's whisper…"
Bu He's heart hammered in his chest. This wasn't just a legend; it was an explanation for his very existence. On another scroll, he found a chillingly familiar description of a condition called the "Devouring Echo." According to the text, when a primal core, like his Blood Core, absorbed too much power too quickly, it would attempt to "consume" the host's spirit and consciousness to complete its own evolution. This was the backlash he had experienced, the internal battle he had fought.
It was then that a soft voice spoke from the shadows of the secluded aisle. "Interesting reading material."
Bu He spun around, instantly on guard. Mei Qian emerged from the darkness, a silk fan hiding her smile. "I have read these texts as well," the poison master continued, her eyes glittering with a calculating light. "The Devouring Echo... a dangerous condition. But for every poison, there is an antidote. Or, at the very least, another poison to create a balance."
She glided closer, her voice a whisper. "Certain refined spiritual poisons can temporarily suppress that primal hunger. Fighting poison with poison... a dangerous equilibrium." She paused. "I have a few formulas that could be of assistance. In exchange, of course, for a small favor. A fresh drop of your blood, which neutralized the Shadow-Numbing poison... it is worth more to me than a thousand rare herbs."
It was the offer of an apple from a serpent. Dangerous, yet tempting. "I will consider it," Bu He said, his mind reeling.
As they emerged from the archives, a commotion from the Grand Plaza drew their attention. The other semi-final match had just concluded. The crowd was staring, awestruck, at a single figure. The winner was not from the Ice Palace, nor from any of the other major sects they had studied. The victor was a young monk from the Adamantine Temple, his head shaved, his posture as serene and unmovable as a mountain. His fighting style had been one of absolute, unbreakable defense, reflecting his opponent's power back at them until they collapsed from their own exhaustion.
His final opponent had been decided.
When they returned to the lab, Elder Bao was waiting for them, a grim look on his face. He was holding a formal tournament announcement.
"The final is in three days," he said. "The arena: the 'Celestial Mirror'." He paused, then dropped the bombshell. "And the grand prize, granted by the hosting sects this year... is a single, perfectly preserved Thousand-Year Frost Lotus."
The air in the room froze. The first, most crucial ingredient for the Heart-Calming Jade Elixir. The prize for the final battle.
This tournament was no longer about honor or glory. It was a fight for Bu He's life, and his soul. And he had no choice but to win.