The dormant seed of qi, subtly implanted within Mistress Zhao Hansu, was a silent triumph for Jianyu. He was no longer merely a pawn in the intricate power games of the sects; he was an active, insidious force, weaving his own threads of destruction. His prestige as Niánmei continued to grow, a shimmering, dangerous allure that drew the eyes of the realm's most powerful matriarchs.
Soon, two urgent letters arrived, delivered by swift spirit-birds, their feathers shimmering with condensed qi. One, embossed with the cold, precise sigil of Chixia Gong, was from Gong Xuelan. The other, bearing the stark, bone-white emblem of Yuegu Zong, was from Nie Yuelian. Both requested his presence, alone, for "cultivation guidance." It was a thinly veiled summons, a desperate attempt to reassert control over the enigmatic "Saint."
Jianyu, after careful consideration, chose Xuelan. Her obsession was rooted in his creation, a deeper, more primal connection. He needed to understand the full extent of her knowledge, her plans. And he knew, with a chilling certainty, that she would be the most dangerous.
He traveled to her mountain palace, a fortress carved from obsidian, its spires piercing the clouds like petrified needles. The air here was sharp, sterile, infused with the scent of chemicals and ancient, preserved things. He was ushered through sterile corridors, past laboratories filled with humming, arcane machinery and glowing, contained qi.
Then, she revealed it. Her private laboratory. It was not a place of sterile beauty, but a chamber of grotesque horror. Rows of glass tanks, filled with a viscous, amber fluid, lined the walls. Within them, suspended in a state of agonizing, perpetual animation, were the failed male experiments. Their bodies were warped, twisted, some missing limbs, others with organs exposed, pulsing faintly. They were barely alive, their eyes dull and vacant, yet a faint, high-pitched keening filled the air. "They sing for me," Xuelan murmured, her voice devoid of emotion, "when I meditate. Their broken qi resonates with my own. A symphony of failure."
Jianyu's perfect mask almost shattered. The cold fury he had suppressed for so long threatened to erupt. These were his brethren, the discarded husks from which he had been born. He felt a profound, visceral revulsion, yet he maintained Niánmei's serene expression, allowing only a flicker of polite curiosity to show.
Xuelan turned from the tanks, her veiled gaze fixed on Niánmei. She approached, her movements as precise and unyielding as ever. Her hand, cool and slender, reached out, cupping Niánmei's jaw, her thumb stroking his cheekbone.
She kissed him. Softly. Without lust. Only reverence. Her lips were cool, almost cold, against Niánmei's. "To think," she murmured, her voice a low, almost mournful whisper, "such perfection could arise from my failures. My masterpiece." Jianyu almost believed she mourned what she had created, what she had lost. But he knew her. This was not grief; it was possession.
She pulled back, her eyes gleaming with a chilling intensity. "Become my heir, Niánmei. Accept my soul-brand. You will gain access to all of Chixia Gong's forbidden knowledge, its deepest secrets. You will be my ultimate creation, my legacy."
The offer was tempting, a direct path to the heart of his enemy. Jianyu, as Niánmei, gave a slow, graceful nod. "It would be an honor, High Priestess. To be your perfect vessel."
Xuelan smiled, a thin, triumphant curve of her lips. She initiated the soul-branding ritual. It was a complex, invasive process, a searing spiritual connection designed to bind his essence to hers, to make him an extension of her will. He felt the threads of her soul attempting to weave into his own, to imprint her authority.
But in that moment, as the brand sought to settle, Jianyu corrupted the ritual. His System flared, a silent, internal roar. He used the incoming spiritual energy, not to submit, but to flip the brand. He twisted its purpose, turning it into a tracking rune, a silent, insidious beacon that would broadcast Xuelan's location, her spiritual fluctuations, directly to him. She would believe she controlled him, but in truth, he now held a leash on her.
The brand settled, a faint, glowing mark on Niánmei's forehead. Xuelan smiled, a triumphant glint in her eyes. "Perfect vessel," she whispered.
Jianyu, as Niánmei, returned her smile. But it was a smile of a predator, for he was no longer merely her creation. He was her hunter.