Chapter 60

The days at Hanshuiyuan were divided into cold, repetitive segments marked by blood draws.

Every morning, before dawn, the lock on the stone house is opened precisely on time.

Two expressionless guards stepped in, bringing with them a chill from the outside. One carried a specially made, thin-bladed silver bowl with extremely sharp edges, while the other held a cloth soaked in strong liquor and some hemostatic powder.

Su Zhelan was already numb. He silently stretched out his arm, letting the other person untie the gauze that had just been put on his wrist yesterday, revealing the wound underneath that had not yet healed and was even slightly turned outward due to frequent blood draws.

The cold cloth stung as it wiped the skin. The thin blade sliced ​​across the wrist with swift precision, causing almost no pain. Only the faint sound of warm blood flowing into the silver bowl was particularly clear in the deathly silent stone house.

Su Zhelan turned her face away, staring blankly at the mottled mold spots on the stone wall, as if the flowing blood was not her own, but some kind of liquid unrelated to her.

Once the silver bowl was full, the hemostatic powder was roughly pressed onto the wound, and then tightly wrapped with new gauze, making his fingertips numb.

The guard, carrying the bowl of dark red blood that was still warm from his body, turned and left as if completing a routine task.

The heavy iron gate slammed shut again, leaving Su Zhelan alone, leaning against the cold stone wall, feeling the dizziness and weakness brought on by blood loss wash over her body like a tide.

This bowl of blood will be sent to the pharmacy immediately.

Inside the pharmacy, however, the atmosphere was far from peaceful.

At first, Su Yan's face was so gloomy it could drip water when he saw the bowl of blood that his personal guard brought him, which was still steaming slightly. He gripped the pestle tightly, his knuckles turning white from the force.

"Take it away!" Su Yan slammed his hand on the medicine table, making the medicine pot next to him jump. His voice was filled with undisguised rage and disgust. "Tell Sheng Chi! I'm not serving him anymore! He wants to use my apprentice's blood to save his brother? Let him brew it himself! I'm not doing this heartless work!"

The guard stood motionless, holding his bowl, expressionless, like an emotionless wooden figure.

"Su Yan." Gu Linzhao's calm voice came from the doorway. He stepped inside, his gaze sweeping over the blood-stained bowl and his friend's tense, iron-like faces. "Calm down."

"Calm down?!" Su Yan turned around abruptly, his bloodshot eyes like those of a predatory tiger, locking onto Gu Linzhao. "How can you expect me to calm down?! Look at them! Look at what they've taken Zhelan for?! Cutting his wrists every day! Bleeding him every day! He's a living person! Not some licorice root in a medicinal field! If this continues, he won't even have the strength to stand up!"

His chest heaved violently, and his angry shouts nearly lifted the roof off.

Gu Linzhao walked to his side, his strong hand pressing heavily on his shoulder, which was tense with anger. His voice was deep and rocky: "That's why... this medicine must be brewed by you."

Su Yan was stunned, then his anger flared even more: "You want me to be an accomplice too?!"

"No." Gu Linzhao's gaze was sharp as a knife, piercing straight to the heart of the matter. "If you don't prepare it, Sheng Chi will definitely have other physicians in the manor take over. Those mediocre ones... do you understand?" His voice suddenly turned cold, each word carrying the weight of a thousand pounds.

“They have to test the medicinal properties, adjust the heat… Every failure means another cut on Zhelan’s wrist, another bowl of blood! By the time they figure out the ‘suitable’ prescription… Zhelan’s life will have been drained away bit by bit!”

These words were like ice water poured over his head, instantly extinguishing most of Su Yan's raging flames, leaving only a bone-chilling cold and a sense of powerlessness as if fate had him by the throat.

This analysis was like a bucket of ice water poured over his head, instantly extinguishing Su Yan's raging anger, leaving only a bone-chilling cold and a suffocating feeling as if his throat were being tightened by chains! He opened his mouth, wanting to refute, but found himself trapped like a beast—every word Gu Linzhao said was a bloody reality!

Overwhelmed by grief and helplessness, Su Yan felt as if he were weighed down by lead, making it hard for him to breathe. He stared intently at the bowl of blood, his eyes filled with a complex mix of emotions—anger, disgust, heartache for his disciple, and the humiliation of being forced into a corner and the pain of having no other choice.

Finally, with a heavy sigh, as if using all his strength, he forced out a suppressed growl from his throat, filled with deep resentment and hatred: "...Sheng Chi! You bastard!"

He snatched the silver bowl from the guard's hand and roughly poured the blood inside into the prepared medicine cauldron.

He gripped the pestle so tightly it cracked, each pounding of medicine seeming like an outburst of rage. He kept muttering curses under his breath, cursing everything from Sheng Chi to the General's Mansion, from the blood-drawing guards to the damned Gu poison, and even occasionally cursing his "good-for-nothing" apprentice, Su Zhelan.

The aroma of medicine mingled with the stench of blood filled the pharmacy. Su Yan found himself in this atmosphere saturated with resentment and grief.

While cursing and swearing, he used all his life's knowledge to carefully and precisely control the heat and medicinal properties, refining the bowl of blood that carried Su Zhelan's life force into a medicine that could save Sheng Xuan's life.

In the afternoon, after the coldest time in Hanshui Courtyard had passed, that pale figure would always appear on time outside the iron bars.

Xiao Qiyun carried the food box and medicine kit as if fulfilling an unalterable contract.

Ignoring the presence of the guards, his gaze pierced through the cold fence and landed on Su Zhelan, who was huddled in the corner.

Su Zhelan's condition deteriorated day by day.

Frequent blood loss left his face perpetually pale as paper, his lips bloodless, and the dark circles under his eyes thick and unyielding. He was shockingly thin, his oversized prison uniform hanging loosely on his body, his exposed wrists so slender they looked as if they could snap at any moment, the layers of gauze on them glaringly obvious.

"Ze Lan." Xiao Qiyun's voice was always very soft, with a hint of gentleness that was barely perceptible.

Sometimes Su Zhelan would look up at him, her eyes empty and numb, like dusty glass. Other times, she didn't even have the strength to lift her eyes, only twitching slightly to indicate that she was still alive.

Xiao Qiyun didn't mind his silence. He opened the food box, which contained carefully prepared, easily digestible, and nourishing meals, as well as warm medicinal soup. He handed the food and medicine bowl through the iron bars.

"Eat something." Xiao Qiyun's voice carried an unyielding insistence.

Sometimes Su Zhelan would mechanically take the food and eat it in small bites, finding it tasteless. Other times, she would show no reaction at all.

Xiao Qiyun didn't urge her, but waited quietly. After Su Zhelan finished eating, he would take out new medicine and clean gauze.

"Give me your hand." Xiao Qiyun's voice remained calm.

Su Zhelan would hesitate and slowly reach out his hand. Xiao Qiyun would carefully untie the old gauze soaked in blood from his wrist, revealing the gruesome wound beneath. His movements were extremely gentle, his fingertips calloused yet remarkably steady. He meticulously cleaned the edges of the wound with strong liquor, then applied a cooling, analgesic, and healing-promoting ointment, and finally re-bandaged it with soft gauze.

Throughout the entire process, Xiao Qiyun's gaze was focused and calm. Su Zhelan could clearly feel the warmth of his fingertips and the careful care he showed. This brief, medicinally scented touch was the only warmth in this cold cage.

However, this warmth often plunged Su Zhelan into deeper pain.

When Xiao Qiyun's fingertips brushed over the old and new knife wounds on his wrist, and when the familiar scent of herbs filled his nostrils, Su Zhelan's thoughts would uncontrollably drift back to the distant past—back to that dark, blood-soaked, and putrid pit.

Back then, he was imprisoned in the same dark and damp corner. People dressed in different clothes would coldly cut open his skin, take his blood, or implant various strange worms into his body.

There would also be cold hands that treated his wounds after his painful struggles, their movements precise but devoid of warmth, as if he were merely an instrument that needed maintenance.

The Xiao Qiyun before me moved gently, his eyes filled with concern. But this cage, this bloodletting, this daily weakness and despair… how eerily similar!

“Heh…” Su Zhelan sometimes couldn’t help but let out a very soft, self-deprecating laugh.

Xiao Qiyun paused slightly and looked up at him.

Su Zhelan simply lowered her eyelids, her long eyelashes concealing the deep, unfathomable despair and self-loathing surging within her eyes.

He felt like a joke. He had gone to great lengths to escape the cult's den, thinking he had found a new home and could finally live a peaceful life.

And the result? We went around in circles, back to square one. Even worse than before.

Back then it was pure pain and numbness, but now, she has to endure her master's disappointment, Gu Linzhao's helplessness, Xiao Qiyun's concern... as well as that heavy shackle called "voluntary"!

He brought all of this on himself!

He chose to stay, to use his own blood to save Shengxuan, and to lock himself back into this cage called "responsibility" and "guilt"!

Immense regret gnawed at his heart like a venomous snake, day and night.

Often, in the dead of night, when he was tormented by the cold and weakness after losing blood and unable to fall asleep, he would stare with empty eyes at the small iron window above him, which let in very little light.

If I had known this would happen... when I was captured by the cult and thrown into that boiling furnace of poisonous insects and medicinal liquid, I should have... just died inside!

Why struggle? Why cling to life? Why go through all that followed, only to end up in such a wretched state?

This thought, like a maggot clinging to his bone, once it took root, spread wildly, dragging his remaining will into a darker abyss. He looked at the scars on his wrists, symbols of humiliation and sacrifice, and felt they were utterly ugly, just like his wretched life.

The days and nights at Hanshui Courtyard flowed slowly and heavily amidst the coldness of blood draws, Su Yan's curses while preparing medicine, Xiao Qiyun's silent protection, and Su Zhelan's deepening despair and self-destructive tendencies. Like a stagnant pool of despair, its surface occasionally rippled, but beneath lay a bottomless, dark swamp capable of swallowing everything.

The daily grind at Hanshui Courtyard was like a dull knife slowly cutting flesh, severing Su Zhelan's life and will.

Looking at Su Zhelan's increasingly withered appearance and the ever-deepening stillness in her eyes, Xiao Qiyun felt as if his heart was sinking into an icy sea, and each visit brought an even deeper sense of suffocation.

He knew that if he couldn't find a way out of this predicament, Su Zhelan would eventually be completely consumed by this endless blood-sucking and despair.

He couldn't wait any longer.

As Xiao Qiyun changed Su Zhelan's dressing again at Hanshui Courtyard, he looked at the hideous, seemingly unhealable wound on Su Zhelan's wrist. His fingertips moved even more gently, but his voice carried an unprecedented solemnity:

“Zhelan,” Xiao Qiyun’s voice was low, his gaze fixed on Su Zhelan’s empty eyes, “Do you remember… that place? Any detail… location? The nearby mountains and rivers? What were the features of the place where you were imprisoned? Or… what year was it when Su Yan bought you?”

Su Zhelan's body stiffened almost imperceptibly. That deliberately sealed memory, like a venomous snake, was stirred by Xiao Qiyun's question and began to stir restlessly deep within his mind. He closed his eyes, his thick eyelashes trembling violently, as if resisting immense pain.

“I…I don’t know…” Su Zhelan’s voice was hoarse and dry, filled with exhaustion and resistance, “…no sunlight…only insects…and screams…” He shook his head painfully, trying to dispel the horrifying images, “…bought by my master…was it…a few years ago?…I can’t remember…I only remember…it was very cold…it was raining…”

The clues were as vague as trying to see flowers through a fog. But Xiao Qiyun did not give up.

After leaving Hanshui Academy, he immediately accessed the imperial archives and the general's mansion's annual military reports.

Based on Su Zhelan's vague mention of "several years ago" and the seasonal characteristics of "very cold" and "raining," combined with Su Yan's route as a traveling doctor back then, he narrowed down the time to five to seven years ago. After reviewing the records of cult dens that the imperial court and border troops had eradicated in those years, he finally narrowed down the target to three places—all located in the southwestern border region, with high mountains, dense forests, and a cold and humid climate.

One of the strongholds, known as "Youzi Cave," was destroyed some time before Su Yan rescued Su Zhelan. However, the records show that after the cult was wiped out, the stronghold was found to be deep underground with a complex structure. A large number of remains of poisonous insects used for Gu poisoning and the skeletons of children were discovered there! This almost perfectly matches Su Zhelan's description of "never seeing the light of day," "insects," and "screams"!

Xiao Qiyun was greatly shocked and immediately listed "Blackwater Ravine" as a priority.

Meanwhile, deep within the General's Mansion dungeon, the stench of blood and screams never ceased.

General Sheng Chi personally oversaw the interrogation of the four survivors captured during the previous ambush.

In the dimly lit torture chamber, torches flickered, illuminating the mottled dark stains on the walls.

Two elderly believers with gray hair and beards were chained to the wall, their bodies covered in wounds, yet their eyes remained cloudy and fanatical.

No matter what kind of torture they were subjected to, they just gritted their teeth, making wild, guttural noises in their throats, occasionally uttering a few indistinct, fanatical prayers to the "God of Gu." To any inquiry about the "Holy Son" or the secrets of the religion, they responded with silence or manic laughter.

"I don't know! I don't know! Long live the God of Gu!" One of the old believers suddenly raised his head, his bloodshot eyes staring intently at Sheng Chi, and roared hoarsely, his saliva mixed with blood splattering.

Sheng Chi's face was ashen, and he waved his hand. The guards understood and dragged the two old men away, as if they were two dead dogs.

Next was the young prisoner. He was already terrified by the gloom of the dungeon and the miserable state of his companions. His face was ashen, his body was trembling like a leaf, and his genitals were wet and smelled foul.

"I'll talk! I'll tell you everything! General, spare my life! Spare my life!" Before Sheng Chi could speak, the young prisoner burst into tears and wailed, kowtowing repeatedly.

Sheng Chi looked at him coldly: "Speak, tell me everything about how you refine Gu, without omitting a single word."

The young prisoner, as if granted a pardon, began to confess incoherently, his voice trembling and shrill with fear: "Holy Son?... I am of lowly status... Church secrets... I really don't know much!"

“Say what you know!” Sheng Chi’s voice was like an ice pick.

The young prisoner, as if granted a pardon, began to confess incoherently, his voice trembling and shrill with fear, his words rapid and broken:

"Holy Son... Holy Son... I am of lowly status and have only... only seen his back once from afar... The secrets of the sect... I really don't know much, General!"

“Say what you know!” Sheng Chi’s voice was like an ice pick.

The prisoner trembled with fear and hurriedly said, "Yes! Yes! I've heard... I've heard about it! In the old days, when the border was in chaos and countless people died... several elders in the sect took the opportunity to lead people... to massacre many remote villages... and specifically capture children!"

He swallowed hard, his eyes filled with fear, and his speech quickened:

"Throw all the captured snakes into the dug pit! Then...then pour them into the pit! Pour in hundreds and thousands of venomous snakes! Scorpions! And many other poisonous insects whose names I don't know! Let them tear each other apart!"

The prisoner's voice was distorted with extreme fear, and trembled with sobs:

"The bottom of the pit... the bottom of the pit was full of blood! Full of minced flesh! The cries were heart-wrenching... not long after... they were all dead! I only heard... I heard that a few survived in the end!"

His body trembled violently, as if the hellish scene were right before his eyes:

"Those who survived... were taken away by the elders! Locked in stone prisons! They were implanted with all sorts of the most poisonous Gu worms... again and again! To see how long they could endure it! If they couldn't endure it... they would detoxify them... recover... and then implant them again! Torture them again! Over and over again! I heard... I heard that in the end, only one was born... who is... who is the 'Holy Son'!"

The prisoner's voice was choked with sobs, almost a cry:

"The elders say! The Holy Son's blood... is the source of all Gu! He is the incarnation of the Gu God in the mortal realm! Gu nurtured with his blood... are truly top-grade! They can command all Gu! They can make life worse than death... and they can... and they can save lives."

The last young prisoner was dragged up, already delirious. He was emaciated, his eyes unfocused, and he kept muttering incoherent babbling: "Holy Son... Gu God... Descends... Blood... Holy Blood... Drink for Immortality..." He would sometimes laugh foolishly, sometimes scream, oblivious to any questions, completely immersed in his own world of madness.

As Sheng Chi listened to the young prisoner's confession, his expression grew increasingly grim, his eyes churning with turbulent emotions! Mass production of children for Gu poison! The sole survivor! Inhuman torture! The source of all Gu poison! This...this is no mere remnant of a cult! This is clearly the most terrifying living weapon created by a cult! A victim! A monster that survived hell?

Several days later, in the study of the general's mansion.

The candlelight shone brightly, yet it could not dispel the heavy atmosphere.

Xiao Qiyun placed the copy of the dossier about "Blackwater Ravine" that he had found, as well as the conclusions he deduced based on Su Zhelan's vague memories and timeline, on the desk in front of Sheng Chi.

Sheng Chi silently finished reading, his face ashen. He looked up at Xiao Qiyun and, without a word, pushed the interrogation records of the four prisoners, especially the young prisoner's detailed confession about the process of creating the "Holy Son," in front of Xiao Qiyun.

The two silently flipped through each other's information.

The only sounds in the study were the rustling of papers turning and the crackling of the candlelight.

When Xiao Qiyun saw the young prisoner's description of the child's Gu-refining process and the birth of the "Holy Son," which was like a hellish scroll, his fingers gripping the paper tightened suddenly, and his knuckles turned white instantly!

A chilling coldness, mixed with immense anger and... indescribable heartache, instantly swept over his entire body! He could almost picture the horrific scene of young Su Zhelan being thrown into the Thousand Insect Pit, struggling to survive, and then being repeatedly implanted with Gu poison, enduring the agony of being on the verge of life and death! This was no "remnant of a cult"! This was clearly the most tragic victim created by a cult!

Seeing Xiao Qiyun's face change in an instant, Sheng Chi's last trace of doubt vanished. He slammed the dossier on the table with a heavy thud, breaking the deathly silence.

“Now it’s clear.” Sheng Chi’s voice was low and hoarse, carrying a sense of heaviness and complexity after the dust had settled. “Su Zhelan… he is not a remnant of a cult.”

He paused, his gaze sharpening as he looked at Xiao Qiyun, each word a pronouncement: "He is a 'holy son' created by the cult using the most cruel and bloody methods. He is a victim, and also... the most terrifying 'weapon' they left behind."

The word "weapon" carries a cold, realistic feel. Su Zhelan's blood, capable of suppressing all kinds of Gu poisons and also drawing upon them, is the core of this "weapon."

Xiao Qiyun slowly put down the confession in his hand, the cold touch of the paper still lingering on his fingertips.

He raised his eyes and looked at Sheng Chi. In those eyes, which were always gentle or calm, there was now a storm of emotions surging like a tidal wave—anger and heartache for Su Zhelan's past experiences, hatred for the cult's heinous crimes, and a heavy feeling after confirming the truth, and... a trace of barely perceptible relief.

At least, Su Zhelan wasn't an enemy. He was just a pitiful man, cruelly tormented by fate and crawled out of hell...

“Yes.” Xiao Qiyun’s voice was slightly hoarse, yet exceptionally clear. “He is a victim. General… shouldn’t have treated him like this.”

Their intense gazes met in mid-air, colliding silently.

Inside the study, the candlelight flickered, casting the solemn figures of the two men against the wall, like two opposing mountain peaks.