Chapter 10
1001 Words
The Hidden Dragon in the Wilds
"Myriad Flames Seal? Oh, heavens!" Xiang Nu felt as if she might burst apart at the seams, her mind a tempest of roaring waves, scarcely able to credit the sight before her eyes.
Master Fang's outstretched hand hung frozen in midair, trembling without cease.
The technique this young man wielded was the legendary Myriad Flames Seal from the annals of pill-refining arts—arcane and labyrinthine, yet capable of harnessing every flame into one. It served not only for alchemy but for self-defense as well, the dream of countless alchemists.
Mastering it was an ordeal beyond measure; it demanded at least the prowess of a master alchemist, coupled with strokes of serendipitous fortune!
All signs pointed to the undeniable: this youth before him was a master alchemist in his own right—his equal!
A master alchemist so young!
A master alchemist who commanded the Myriad Flames Seal!
In this instant, however fiercely he resisted belief, Master Fang found himself utterly awed by the evidence. At last, he regarded Fan Xue Li with eyes of true parity, recalling the youth's earlier words. Only now did he comprehend: Fan Xue Li had not been arrogant, but speaking as one peer to another, in earnest discourse.
A flush of heat scorched his cheeks. He had presumed upon his age, blind to the vastness beyond his ken. This boy, so tender in years, had scaled such heights—what boundless potential he held! Once the winds of fortune stirred, he would rise as a dragon, his future eclipsing even Master Fang's own.
At this juncture, Xiang Nu's face drained of color, her thoughts hollowed out in a stupor.
This youth was a master alchemist, commensurate in stature with Master Fang himself!
By contrast, her own feeble glow had dared to cast doubt upon such a figure!
Remembering Fan Xue Li's unruffled demeanor in those moments, she at last discerned the bedrock of his assurance.
But the greater the revelation, the deeper her shock. How had a master alchemist so young forged himself? What lineage had nurtured him?
The thought sent a chill sweat prickling down her spine. She had spoken to him with such biting disdain—what a grievous offense!
Ming Na's face, meanwhile, bloomed with a smile of radiant brilliance. She had long sensed something extraordinary in Young Master Fan—his vast erudition had hinted at depths untold. Yet she had never imagined he concealed such mastery.
The memory of that resplendent seal, the divine luminescence of the Bu Li Grass, curved her lips in quiet satisfaction.
With this, Young Master Fan's mother would surely be restored, the pill's virtue banishing her affliction entirely!
Under the collective gaze, light danced from Fan Xue Li's hands. The Bu Li Grass, entwined with the host of herbs, coalesced slowly into a single pill.
Then he slipped the pill between his mother's lips.
He had noted the others' expressions but paid them no heed. For him, nothing mattered save his mother's healing.
For her sake, he would spare no cost.
In this moment, Master Fang's countenance grew solemn. He withdrew from the room, stepping into the courtyard to stand vigil in silence.
A torrent of questions churned within him, yearning for voice.
Fan Xue Li, for his part, channeled his breath against his mother's back, steadying her vital pulse with unwavering focus.
After a time, she stirred at last, her eyes fluttering open. Seeing Fan Xue Li at her side, aiding her respiration, she murmured in hesitation, "Li'er?"
It was as if she had awakened from a vast, tumultuous dream—one threaded with countless brushes with death.
"Mother, you're awake?" Noting the flush of health returning to her cheeks, Fan Xue Li withdrew his hand, exhaling in profound relief.
As the Soul Condensing Pill took hold, a majestic tide of essence surged through her frame, even manifesting on her skin as a formidable ward—clearing the mind, fortifying the body, rendering her all but impervious to future ills.
Yet he knew a convalescent should not strain her voice. Gently, he said, "Mother, rest now and recover your strength." But as he spoke, he glimpsed two trails of tears tracing down her face and started in alarm. "Mother, what's wrong?"
"These past days, though I lay abed, my awareness flickered in and out... You've endured such hardship, you and Yu'er both..." Tears streamed freely as she reached for Fan Xue Li's hand, only to falter in her frailty. After several faltering attempts, she clasped it at last.
She knew of the Tianwu Sword's curse, of Xiao Yu's rite of cutting flesh to light a lamp—profoundly moved, yet pierced with unbearable sorrow.
"Mother, didn't you always teach me that fortune and calamity rest with the heavens? Yet no matter the calamity, we must shield those nearest to us with all we have?" Fan Xue Li met her eyes earnestly. "I've grown now, broken through to the third realm of the fleshly body. I wield my own power at last. Tomorrow, I can enter the Rite of Forging Assembly and reclaim all we've lost."
He knew the assembly was a wound upon her heart. A year prior, it was there that the principal wife had humiliated her, heaping scorn until she spat blood and fell into this grievous illness from which she had not risen.
How she had yearned to claim first place in the Rite of Forging Assembly, to earn Father's regard and soar as a dragon of the Nine Heavens, unbound across the firmament.
"The Rite of Forging Assembly?" In that instant, her face underwent a stark transformation.
Solemnity settled over her features; words hovered on her lips, withheld in torment. At last, pain etching her brow, she forced them forth. "Tomorrow's Rite of Forging Assembly—promise me you'll beware of him."
Fan Xue Li froze. Such a labyrinth of emotion was rare on her face. He could not resist asking, "Beware of whom?"
- Writer
