My mind, which had been foggy with hunger, suddenly became very clear. The cold, somehow, sharpened my senses. I could hear the whisper of air from a distant tunnel, see dust particles floating in the dim light with amazing clarity. It was like my brain was dipped in ice water.
My "Seed" finally succeeded. It found a way to break down the mushroom's essence. The subtle cold energy was decomposed, filtered, and absorbed. The painful freezing sensation gradually subsided, replaced by a feeling of clean satiety. Unlike the heavy satisfaction from Spirit Ore, this was like drinking clear water after a day of thirst. My spiritual hunger subsided, and my mind remained sharp, alert.
I opened my eyes, which I hadn't realized were closed. I was still alive. Even more than that—I felt... good. Better than after absorbing Spirit Ore.
Old Man observed from his corner, and for the first time, I thought I saw a slight nod of respect.
"You survived," he grumbled. "Your Seed can learn. That's good. That means it's more than just a stupid parasite." He approached again, his voice low. "Now you understand. This world is full of energy, Wa Lang. The coarse and the subtle. The evil and the... neutral. Most cultivation only seeks the pure and strong. But in a dirty place like this, such luxury doesn't exist. We must be able to eat everything. Know how to digest poison, and know which poison will make you strong, not kill you."
He gave me the whole blue mushroom. "Hide it. This will be your emergency ration. But remember—too much, and you'll freeze from the inside. Your Seed is still learning."
I held the blue mushroom, feeling its comfortable coldness. This was my first lesson in the art of poisoning: sometimes, poison is medicine. And in this already toxic world, the ability to distinguish might be the most valuable survival skill.
Yet, the peace didn't last long.
Overseer Yan appeared at the cell door, his face expressionless. His sharp eyes immediately fixed on me, as if he could smell my newly changed energy.
"Wa Lang," he called, his voice flat. "Today's experiment is more ambitious. I have secured a sample of 'Soul Mist' from the Ghost Tunnel. You will try to absorb it."
Soul Mist. The name alone made my blood run cold, a sensation I now understood all too well.
Old Man bowed his head, hiding his expression. But I saw his white-knuckled grip.
This was no longer about surviving by finding food. This was about being forced to swallow a deadlier poison, just to satisfy a mad scientist's curiosity.
I looked at the blue mushroom in my hand, then at Overseer Yan.
My poison lesson had just begun, and the exam had arrived.
---
Soul Mist.
The name alone gave me chills. Even before I saw it, I could feel the "Seed" in my stomach stirring restlessly. Not anticipation like towards Spirit Ore, not caution like towards the Darkmoon Cap, but a deep, primal vibration of fear. An instinctive warning.
Overseer Yan took me to a room I had never seen before, located behind his private laboratory. This room was smaller, windowless, and its walls were lined with dull metal plates that felt cold to the touch. In the middle of the room was a circular formation carved into the stone floor, filled with characters that swirled and flickered with an unsettling deep red light. In the center of the formation, a black stone vessel emitted mist.
Not ordinary mist.
This was mist that was alive, moving, and—I thought—thinking. Its color was silvery-gray, but within it flickered small lights like dying fireflies.
The mist rolled slowly, sometimes forming vague faces screaming in silence, sometimes reaching out with vapor hands that broke the moment they touched the formation's boundary. Its hissing sound was soft, like wind whispering through dry leaves, but if you listened closely, you could hear small, trapped screams within.
Souls, I thought in horror. This is mist made of shattered souls that haven't found rest.
My "Seed" urged me to retreat. This was the most basic survival instinct.
"Concentrated pure spiritual energy," said Overseer Yan in a flat voice, as if explaining a common specimen. "Composed of the residual consciousness of slaves processed in the Lower Chambers. Highly unstable, very dangerous. No ordinary slave or cultivator can handle it without severe mental damage." He looked at me, his eyes shining with a cold scientific fire. "But your 'Seed'... it has shown the ability to digest the indigestible. Let's see its limits."
He gave me no choice. It was not a request. An armed overseer stood at the door, his hand on his sword hilt.
"Enter the formation," Yan ordered. "Sit before the vessel. And... endure."
My legs felt made of lead. Every step towards the circle felt like walking to my own gallows. As I crossed the formation's boundary, the air temperature instantly changed. It became cold, but a strange cold—a cold that pierced the soul, not the body. The faint screams within the mist became slightly louder, more desperate.
I sat, kneeling before the stone vessel. Up close, the faces in the mist were clearer. I saw eyes widened in horror, mouths open for screams that never came out. They were the remnants of people like me. Slaves. Fertilizer.
No, my thoughts rebelled. I will not become like them.
My "Seed" was now vibrating violently, like a terrified kitten. Its hunger was gone, replaced by pure fear. It did not want this. This was the wrong food.
"Begin," commanded Yan from outside the formation.
There was no way to "begin." I just sat there, terrified.
Then, Overseer Yan uttered a short, sharp word. The formation on the floor glowed bright red, and the mist in the vessel boiled. A dense tendril of gray mist shot out, enveloping my head, forcing its way into my nose, mouth, and eyes.
The world vanished.
---
I was no longer in the stone room. I was in a boundless space, gray and white, filled with sound. Not physical sound, but echoes of memories, emotions, and buried pain.
"...please, I promise I'll work harder..." a child's voice whined.
"...don't take him,take me instead!" a woman's scream.
"...why?What is our sin?" an old man's low groan.
"...MOTHER!"a heart-wrenching shriek.
Thousands of voices. Hundreds of thousands. All screaming, pleading, cursing. They were the echoes of souls destroyed in this mine, and now they flooded my mind, trying to erode my identity and make it part of their collection of suffering.
My head felt like it would explode. I couldn't think. I couldn't remember who I was. I was just a vessel for endless pain.
Wa Lang!
A voice, my own voice, screamed from the depths of my consciousness.
You are Wa Lang! You are from Earth! You will not be destroyed here!
But the waves of despair were too strong. My consciousness began to fade, like a small boat in a stormy sea.
Then, my "Seed" moved.
Not to absorb, but to defend.
It was like a black hole opening in the center of my being. But this time, it didn't suck in energy. It repelled. A wave of pure, primal hunger radiated from it, not for food, but for survival. A "get out" signal.
The invading soul mist recoiled. The voices became screams of terror. The gray mist that had filled my senses was pushed back, away from the core of my consciousness.
My "Seed" was not absorbing the Soul Mist. It was fighting it. It was protecting its host. Because if I was destroyed, it too would perish.
In that moment of extreme crisis, the relationship between us changed. It was no longer just a parasite and its host. We were two entities trapped in the same body, fighting for survival.
I felt its fear. I felt its desperate struggle.
And I helped.
I focused my will, no longer trying to control the hunger, but to strengthen that "get out" signal. I imagined a wall of fire, a shield of pure will, surrounding my mind. I poured all my memories of Earth, all my determination to survive, into that shield.
I AM WA LANG! THIS IS MY BODY! GET OUT!
The combined force of my will and the "Seed's" instinct created a shockwave. The Soul Mist that had enveloped me was violently thrown back into the stone vessel. The faint lights in the mist dimmed, as if shocked.
Silence.
I lay on the cold stone floor, panting heavily. My whole body was drenched in cold sweat. My head throbbed, but my mind was clear. I was still me.
I looked at my hands. They were trembling, but they were mine.
I looked up. Overseer Yan was looking at me, his face showing an expression I had never seen before: pure, unadulterated shock.
He hadn't expected me to survive. He hadn't expected my "Seed" to react that way.
He quickly wrote something on his leather parchment, his hand moving rapidly.
I slowly stood up, my legs still weak. The "Seed" in my stomach was now quiet, exhausted, but I could feel a subtle change in our connection. It was no longer a one-way hunger. There was a... resonance. A mutual understanding born of shared struggle.
"You... resisted it," Yan finally said, his voice low, almost a whisper. "You didn't absorb it. You rejected it."
I just nodded, unable to speak.
He looked at me with new eyes. "This changes everything. The Seed of Darkness is supposed to be a passive receiver, a consumer. But yours... it can choose. It can defend." He approached, his gaze piercing. "What did you feel? Exactly."
I took a deep breath. "It... was afraid. It didn't want that... thing. And it helped me... push it out."
Overseer Yan fell silent, digesting my words. The implications were enormous. I could see the gears turning in his head.
"Fear... defense... symbiosis..." he muttered to himself. Then he looked at me. "Your training is over. Tomorrow, you will join the other slaves in the regular mining work. But your task is different. I want you to observe. Observe the energy flows in the mine. The weak points. The sources of power. Report everything to me."
He waved his hand, signaling I was dismissed.
As I walked out of that terrible room, I felt a strange mix of exhaustion and exhilaration. I had faced the worst and survived. My "Seed" and I had passed a deadly test.
But as I returned to my dark, cold cell, a new thought emerged.
If my "Seed" could learn to defend... could it also learn to attack?
The hunger was still there. But now, it was no longer a blind hunger. It was a hunger with a will. A hunger that could choose its food.
And I, Wa Lang, was the one holding the leash.
For now.
---