“I don’t know how to feel about this,” I admitted quietly, glancing at the second senior brother. “Was it truly necessary for Master to take on so much pain? Could there have been another way?”
The second senior brother’s expression softened, though his gaze remained distant. He seemed to be lost in thought as he replied, “Master’s kindness runs deep. He chose to bear the venom, to suppress it within his own body. Each time it flares up, it weakens him. And yet, he never hesitates.”
I turned to the junior disciple and asked, “Before we arrived, did Master have any interactions with the Jade Pearl Sect? It doesn’t seem like their leader managed to harm him.”
The second senior brother interjected after a moment of silence. “Master acted swiftly. He didn’t suffer any injuries, but the effects of suppressing the venom earlier lasted for about four months. I don’t know what the Jade Pearl Sect’s leader planned, but Master’s primary concern was protecting us.”
It all clicked in my mind—Qing Chen’s calm demeanor wasn’t just an act of strength. It was a shield for those around him, preventing them from worrying or questioning his decisions.
Even when his own body was at its limits, he still found ways to reassure everyone. And yet, despite his efforts, I couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt. Why hadn’t I realized sooner? Why hadn’t anyone?
I looked up at Qing Chen, my emotions swirling in my chest. Slowly, I approached him and gently pressed a hand to his arm. He turned to me with a faint smile, his eyes warm and calm.
Here stood a man who carried the weight of others’ suffering, who faced the world with unwavering resolve. And yet, in that moment, he seemed almost fragile.
Gentle, resilient, and quietly enduring—it was these qualities that made him extraordinary. I vowed to find a way to lighten his burden, no matter what it took.
“Then why did Master disappear for three months after returning from outside the sect?” I asked, my tone hesitant.
“I don’t know,” the second senior brother replied, shaking his head. “After Master came back, he slept for an entire three months. He didn’t say a word about it afterward.”
I looked at him, unsure of what to say. The second senior brother’s expression was calm, but there was a faint unease in his voice. “What kind of venom could have caused such harm to Master?” I asked.
“It’s not from the outside,” he said after a pause. “It’s something within him. Master’s body has long been carrying venom, likely for decades. He has been suppressing it with his cultivation, bearing the brunt of its effects himself.”
I couldn’t suppress a chill at the thought. As a thousand-year-old ginseng spirit, I had an innate ability to purify toxins, but this… this was far beyond anything I could comprehend. My current form was too weak to even sense the full extent of the venom within him.
“The venom isn’t from external herbs,” the second senior brother continued. “It’s something deeply ingrained, like the spiritual toxins left behind from years of using forbidden techniques. It’s not something that can be easily removed.”
His words struck me deeply. I remembered hearing about such toxins before—whispered legends among cultivators about how spiritual poisons could bind themselves to a person’s soul, leaving them trapped in a cycle of suffering.
I wanted to ask more, but the second senior brother’s expression turned distant. He seemed unwilling to say anything further, and I decided not to press him.
That night, Qing Chen stayed by Master’s side. Though his presence brought some relief, I couldn’t shake the unease that had settled in my heart. Even as I drifted to sleep, I found myself dreaming of shadowy figures and faint whispers of despair.
The next morning, I overheard Qing Chen speaking softly to the junior disciple. “You’ve done well,” he said, his tone light but firm. “But remember, no matter what happens, your life is worth protecting.”
His words echoed in my mind as I stood at a distance, watching the scene unfold.
0 Comments