Wei's return to the Verdant Serpent Sect was as quiet and unassuming as his departure. The bee-cloud dispersed miles from the sect gates, and he walked the final stretch on foot, his simple robes dusty from travel, his expression one of weary frustration. He looked every bit the part of an elder who had pursued a cold trail into hostile territory and come back empty-handed.
His first stop was Elder Mei's peak. He found her tending to her Azure-Winged Griffin, whose talons were already showing signs of healing. The black rot had receded, replaced by healthy new scales. The beast was still weak, but the light of vitality had returned to its eyes.
"Brother Wei," Mei said, her face a mixture of relief at seeing him and disappointment at the grim look he wore. "You've returned. Did you find them?"
Wei shook his head, a carefully crafted sigh escaping his lips. "The trail led to Blackwater Crossing. I confirmed the culprits were indeed Blackwood Sect disciples. But the trail vanished there. The marsh is vast, and they have a thousand ways to disappear within their own territory. To pursue them further would have risked open conflict, and I would not provoke a war on your behalf without the Sect Master's direct command."
It was a perfect explanation, containing both the truth and a lie. He had found them, but declaring that would lead to too many questions. This story was cleaner, safer.
Mei's shoulders slumped. "I see. I had hoped for justice, but I understand your caution. You have already done more than enough. My companion's life is a debt I can never truly repay. Please, accept this as a token of my gratitude." She offered him a lustrous, deep blue pearl the size of a pigeon's egg.
Wei recognized it instantly. It was a Beast Soul Pearl, a rare treasure condensed from the life essence of a powerful sea-dwelling spiritual beast. It could be used to calm and communicate with beasts, a priceless item for any beast master. For him, it was of little use, but its value was immense.
"Elder Mei, your friendship is all the thanks I require," Wei said, gently pushing her hand back. "I did what any of us on Silent Bloom Peak would do for another. Keep your treasure. Use it to help your companion recover his strength."
His refusal only deepened the gratitude in Mei's eyes. To her, this was a sign of his noble character, a man who acted out of loyalty, not for material gain. She vowed to herself that if Elder Wei ever needed anything, she would be the first to answer his call. Wei had not just neutralized a threat; he had secured an unwavering, powerful ally.
From there, he went to the Palace of Verdant Skies to file his official report. He stated that the Blackwood Sect was the likely culprit but that the specific disciples could not be found, and there was no concrete evidence to justify a formal accusation against their sect. The matter was officially closed, recorded as an unsolved but minor provocation. No one questioned the word of the Poison Elder, especially when his report was one of failure. Success invited scrutiny; failure invited sympathy.
With the official business concluded, Wei returned to the tranquility of his own peak. He now had a legitimate reason to lay low and pursue his own agenda. The next day, he submitted a new request to the First Elder: a permit to enter the Valley of Whispering Phantoms for a period of one month. His official reason was to search for rare, yin-attributed herbs to further his research into toxins that affect the soul. It was a request he made every few years, and it was granted without question. His reputation as a reclusive, obsessive scholar was the perfect cover.
With the permit in hand, he made his preparations. He stocked his storage ring with various catalysts, empty vials, and a portable cauldron. He informed Elders Jin and Guan that he was entering seclusion for research and would not be available. Then, under the cloak of twilight, he set out, not south towards the swamp, but north, towards the most desolate and feared region of the sect's vast territory.
The Valley of Whispering Phantoms was a place where the veil between the living and the dead was said to be thin. It was a deep, winding canyon carved into the northern mountains, a place perpetually shrouded in a cold, grey mist that the sun never fully penetrated. The yin energy here was so dense it felt like walking through water, and a constant, low whisper seemed to follow you, a sound like the sighing of a thousand lost souls. It was this oppressive yin energy that made it the only place a Soul-Whisper Orchid could possibly grow.
Wei entered the valley, his spiritual sense extended, but not for threats. He was tasting the energy of the place. His body, immune to all poisons, also possessed a high resistance to spiritual corruption. The resentful energy that would drive a normal cultivator mad was merely a cold pressure against his skin.
The whispers grew louder as he ventured deeper, coalescing into faint, mournful cries and pleas. He saw phantom shapes flitting at the edges of his vision—the spiritual residue of cultivators who had died here long ago. They were trapped, unable to pass on, their consciousness slowly eroding into mindless resentment. They were drawn to the vibrant life force of any living creature that entered their domain.
A dozen shadowy figures, their forms twisted and indistinct, suddenly surged towards him from the mist. They were resentful spirits, the most common danger in the valley. Their touch could extinguish a cultivator's life force and corrode their soul.
Wei did not flinch. He simply stopped walking and from his fingertips, the Thousand Phantom Threads erupted. But these were not the sharp, cutting threads he had used before. Infused with a small amount of his own pure spiritual energy, they became a net of soothing, silver light. He cast the net wide, and it passed through the spirits. For a moment, the whispers of agony quieted. The threads did not harm them, but instead offered a moment of clarity, a brief respite from their eternal torment. The spirits recoiled, not in pain, but in confusion, and then faded back into the mist, wary of the strange cultivator who wielded an energy that did not feel hostile.
He was not here to fight ghosts. He was here for a flower. He followed the flow of the yin energy, searching for its densest concentration. After three days of walking, he found it. At the very bottom of the deepest part of the canyon, in a small, lightless cave behind a frozen waterfall, the yin energy was so thick it had begun to crystallize on the rocks, forming delicate, frost-like patterns.
And there, in the center of the cave, growing from a patch of soil as black as night, was a single, perfect flower. The Soul-Whisper Orchid. It had no leaves, only a slender, ghostly white stem. The flower itself had three pristine white petals that seemed to absorb the darkness around them. It emitted no light and no scent, yet its presence was overwhelming. It felt like standing on the edge of the abyss.
Wei approached it with the reverence of a scholar finding a long-lost text. He knew he could only take one part of it. To take the whole flower would be to destroy a treasure of heaven and earth. He needed only a single petal to craft 'One Moment's Dream'. He carefully plucked one of the three petals. The moment it detached from the stem, it turned from solid white to a translucent, shimmering silver, as if it were a captured piece of moonlight.
He placed the petal in a specially prepared jade box, sealing its esoteric energies inside. His primary objective was complete. Now came the difficult part: the brewing.
He did not leave the cave. This place, with its extreme yin energy, was the perfect environment to craft a soul-poison. He set up his portable cauldron, arranged his ingredients in a precise order, and began. The process was incredibly complex. It involved brewing the seventeen other herbs into a base liquid, a task that took a full day and required him to maintain a constant, precise temperature with his spiritual energy.
Then came the final, most critical step. He opened the jade box and levitated the shimmering orchid petal over the cauldron. He could not simply drop it in. The raw power of the petal would cause the entire concoction to explode. He had to infuse it, molecule by molecule, into the base liquid.
He guided the petal down until it was just touching the surface of the murky brew. Then, with his spiritual sense, he began to shave off microscopic fragments of the petal, allowing them to dissolve into the liquid one at a time. Each fragment released a pulse of cold, soul-chilling energy that threatened to destabilize the entire mixture. Wei had to counteract each pulse with a perfectly modulated burst of his own spiritual energy, keeping the cauldron in a state of delicate equilibrium.
The process was mentally and spiritually exhausting. Hours turned into a day, then two. He did not eat or sleep, his entire being focused on the single drop of liquid forming in the cauldron. The murky base was slowly being purified, clarified by the power of the orchid, until all that remained was a single, perfect, tear-shaped drop of fluid, as clear and colorless as pure water.
On the third day, it was complete. The single drop of 'One Moment's Dream' hovered in the center of the now-empty cauldron, radiating an aura of profound silence. It held no spiritual energy, no scent, no taste. It was the perfect poison, a key that could unlock the door to a prison of the mind.
Wei carefully drew the drop into a small, porcelain vial and sealed it. He packed up his equipment, leaving the cave as he had found it. His face was pale, his spiritual reserves were low, but his eyes burned with a cold, triumphant light.
He now possessed the means to eliminate Deacon Yao without leaving a single trace. His journey back to the sect was filled with a sense of cold anticipation. The hunt was over. The execution was about to begin.