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Chapter 81: Bargains [Interlude]
🕑 Added 2025-05-13 09:28:05 +0000 UTCYunjin fell to her knees and bowed immediately.
“I greet the Corpus of the Decaying Greyroots Sect.”
Her body was shaking uncontrollably. Her face spilt blood from every orifice, each drop of red thickening into foul pus the moment they were exposed to the rancid air.
Eyes wide and breathing erratic, the poor woman was barely able to stay conscious as the countless hundreds of parasites within her began writhing in joyous fervour.
The head of the possessed Plague Leech turned, directing its otherworldly attention onto the feeble Young Miss. When that haunting weight settled on her, Yunjin’s heart nearly imploded.
The pressure of its gaze was not meant for mortals.
“Hmm… A Worm… bearing my worms? Haha…ha…”
Each echo of laughter sent parasites within her into a frenzy. Yunjin’s skin bulged and hollowed in nightmarish waves as the mass of maggots swam from organ to organ. Blood and squirming lumps forced their way to her throat. She choked and vomited them out as best she could, but there were too many. More leaked from her ears and nose…
Her rotten eye popped from her head and fell into the stinking mire, allowing another orifice for the virulent worms within her to exit their host.
“I see my children within you… I commend your greed. Most would have expired by now… Bearing so many of my ‘blessings’...”
Yunjin could not speak. She was dying. The creature spoke again, tone slow and languid.
“And yet… You have not yet assimilated my generosity… Your Dantian lies pure and unmarred… Perhaps you require… my personal seed?”
Yunjin could not breathe. Could not see. The pressure was too much. She was dying, dying, dead—
A shadow fell over her, and the pressure ceased.
Though blind and unmoored by madness, she still retained enough sense when something sweet was pressed against her lips.
“Drink,” a familiar voice insistently hissed.
Yunjin’s tongue automatically lapped at the liquid, a motion she had done countless times in the past weeks. Its richness tasted like home — warm, soft, and a thing of tearful comfort.
The squirming in her body slowed, then ceased.
Yunjin blinked and looked up. Her lone remaining eye saw the shaky smile of the Young Master, his eyes a silver glow.
“Don’t worry, I will get us out of here,” Feng said steadily. His eyes held no falsehood, despite the fear within. “I promise. You will see the skies unmarred again.”
He stood, turning to face the enormous creature as he used his body to shield her from the dreadful sight.
“Making false promises once more, I see… Even the whirlpools of Samsara had not changed you from that loathsome habit… Prideful Morning Star… When do lies not pass your lips?”
“You are not taking her,” Feng snarled.
The Plague Leech chuckled.
“A jest, Dragon… I dare not touch what is yours… Though one might argue I am simply taking my seedbed back… After you so wrongfully stole her from me…”
Dragon… A strange word. Yunjin had not heard it before. Yet it was but a small oddity amidst the soul-encompassing horror presently before her.
The Young Master said nothing for several heartbeats. His fist clenched and unclenched as if in a silent, internal debate.
Then, he spoke: “Let us bargain, Botulvorn Beast. You speak of courtesy. Grant your guests the right to exchange favours and gifts, as was our way when we still walked among the stars.”
There was a delighted hum from the lumbering puppet of the deity.
“Hmm… Did your Heart tell you to speak those words? No matter… Jovial host that I am, I acknowledge your right to bargain, fellow Star God… Though trespasser, not guest, you may be…”
The flesh of the bulbous creature unfolded, forming six sagging tentacles of greening meat with a sickening squelch. One of them reached up and into the cavernous throat of the monster, pulling forth a slick, glinting object.
It looked to be a gem — an amethyst of deepest purple, the size of a fist. Its beauty was undeniable, yet merely looking at it gave Yunjin a horrific sense of foreboding.
“A toxin… fit to kill a God… One that I have personally gestated through the millennia of Sleeping Death… It is yours, should you return me my seedbed…”
A millennium of cultivation? Yunjin’s thought swirled with disbelief. Such a thing… If true, it was valuable beyond belief — likely worth more than every ounce of wealth in the Decaying Greyroots Sect combined. What would a toxin like that be capable of? And it was just giving it to Feng in exchange for her?
The Young Master moved to speak, but something held him back. Yunjin recognised it as him communicating with the invisible fairy that only he could perceive.
The possessed Spirit Beast continued.
“Poison for you… Seedbed for me… I shall even forgive the insult of your violation of her… Your blood has tainted her… Marked her as yours… Though surely you had not intended to give such offence?”
The creature brought its tentacle down, presenting the God-slaying Amethyst before Feng.
“After all… the only reason you came to my grave at all… was to take this, is it not? The words of your Heart… and your theft of my property… led you to wake me…”
The Young Master froze. Yunjin watched as a furious expression overtook his face. “You… you lied to me.”
He was not talking to the Beast, Yunjin realised. Nor to her, the Young Miss.
He was speaking to the fairy.
The beast chuckled.
“She did not tell you? No… Of course, she won’t. That Hierophant only ever cares for her selfish Path… She ordered me to create this, one thousand years ago… Late though it may be, rest assured… This toxin meets her exacting specifications…”
All this time, Yunjin had wondered… Why had someone like him even come down to the Bog at all? Why did the fairy in his head lead him down here…
It all made sense now. It was not for her. Of course, it was not for her.
Mother was already dead. There was no one else left to care for her.
Feng’s arms trembled in impotent fury. There was nothing he could do, save to take the deal and leave. Talented and skilled he may be, the creature before him was far beyond his ability to defeat.
Yunjin made a decision.
She reached for his hand, her fingers steady as she grasped them tight. “Feng.”
The Young Master was startled by her touch and turned to look at her. His eyes were bleeding as well. Not even he was immune to the gaze of the Dead God’s Avatar. It reinforced her decision further.
“Feng,” she repeated. She smiled at him, even when his tear-strewn face looked at her despairingly. The fairy must have already told him what he knew. “There is no other way.”
“No,” he hissed. “I promised—”
“And I absolve you of that promise,” Yunjin cut him off. “It’s alright. It’s going to be okay.”
For a moment, he looked terribly young and vulnerable, as someone his age should. To think she would finally be able to act the senior for him…
“It’s alright,” Yunjin soothingly said. “Take the deal. Go, and live for me.”
“And what about you?” Feng choked out.
More tears mixed with his blood. An impulse took over her, and she brought his face down to his. She kissed him on the cheek, right beneath his eye. The taste of his tears mixed with his blood…
Something sparked with her. Her heart soared with both joy and sorrow.
To think there was still someone who would cry for her… She was blessed.
“There’s no other way,” Yunjin whispered. Her smile this time was genuine, free of fear. Feng’s eyes widened. “Our time together was short, and the journey cannot be said to be entirely pleasant. But, nonetheless…”
Trekking through mud. Hiding from monsters. Sharing jokes and stories under the cover of night and darkness. Overcoming impossible odds. Speaking of happy futures and bright what-ifs…
It was her first real adventure, in its own special way.
“Nonetheless,” she whispered, her fingers squeezing his hand once more, feeling the brilliant warmth. “They were some of the happiest weeks of my life. To share them with you, knowing beyond a shadow of a doubt that you cared for me… Thank you.”
She let him go and moved around the boy, facing the horrid God Beast once more. The agony of his gaze assailed her in full force, but this time, she did not falter.
“Honoured Divine,” Yunjin greeted with clarity, even as her body twitched and blood gushed from torn skin. “The boy accepts your generous gift. Allow him to go free, and let me return to your embrace.”
“Hmm… Fine words… You are palatable indeed… And what of you, Dragon? Surely, this gift suits your needs? I daresay… It is far more than you deserve for your insults…”
The tentacle holding the Amethyst was thrust mere inches from the boy. All he had to do was reach out and take it.
“Take the deal.”
For a moment, Yunjin thought she saw something. It flicked in the corner of her eye. The Young Miss looked up, and within that shadowed muck of the blighting swamp, she saw the faintest shimmers of a foreign face.
Blood of hair. Jade of eye. The visage of a beauty unparalleled in all the lands looked to her…
“Leave her with me, and leave here, unharmed… After all…”
And winked.
“What is the worth of one human life?”
“To him? Everything.”
Feng’s face hardened. His tremor stopped. His qi, previously turbulent and lost, sharpened into focus.
The Young Master’s hands reached up…
… and clenched into a fist, before rocketing forth.
An explosion of flames blanketed the tentacle, roaring with a heat that baked the surrounding mud into clay. Rising light turned the shadow of the God Beast into nothingness. For a moment, it was as if a miniature sun had descended.
The flare faded. Feng was breathing hard. The Amethyst, previously unmarred and perfect, had the smallest, most insignificant crack in it.
“I refuse,” the Dragon snarled.
A second of silence passed. Then the tentacle holding the gem suddenly curled and retracted.
“Then die.”
Shadows fell over once more, and Yunjin watched death descend as the bulk of the God Beast came down upon them.
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The Decaying Greyroots Sect, Part 2
Far below the amethyst orchards and lilac-forested peaks of the Purple Mountain is the Blighted Bog — a valley drowned in sucking mud and poisonous air. Here, the ambient qi turns rich with toxicity, choking the life out of any mundane practitioner of the Spiritual Arts.
It is, however, the perfect spot for the poison-aligned Dantian of the Decaying Greyroots’s Sect cultivators, who often go so far as to sink themselves fully into the muck and refuse of the swamp, dosing their bodies in filth and toxins so vile it would kill any mortal instantly. Here, they refine the poison within them, accumulating stockpiles of contaminants such that they may mix and concoct greater toxins for use in battles or auctions.
Cultivation is not always beautiful or kind. And though one may shun the cult for its unclean practices, only a fool would deny the power and wealth they gained from enduring such trials.
— Excerpt from A Citizen’s Guide to the Flesh-Grafted Empire
