The infirmary corridor's stone floor bit into Ye Chen's cheek—cold, unyielding, smelling of damp rock and stale herbs. His vision swam, dissolving into staticky grey smears shot through with veins of pulsing darkness. The void core inside him wasn't just hungry; it was ravenous, a black hole chewing through his edges after the strain of containing the poison. He felt scraped-out. Brittle. Like ancient parchment held over a flame. Each breath rasped in his throat, raw as ground glass.
Crunch. Boots on stone. Distant.
"Young Master!"
Elder Mu's voice sliced through the fog, sharp with alarm. Hands grabbed Ye Chen's shoulders, rolling him onto his back. The elder's face swam into view—wrinkles deepened into gullies by panic, eyes wide and bewildered. "Ancestors' mercy, what happened? You're ice to the bone!"
Ye Chen tried to speak. Feng. Traitor. Poison. His tongue felt thick, clumsy. A dry gasp escaped. He managed to lift a trembling finger, pointing toward the infirmary door—the way Feng would've gone.
"He…" Ye Chen rasped, the word crumbling like ash.
Elder Mu followed his gesture, brow furrowed. "He what, Young Master? What did you see?" The elder pressed a calloused palm to Ye Chen's forehead, then jerked back as if burned. "Spirit depletion? No… this is wrong. Like something's… hollowed you out." Panic tightened his voice. "GUARDS! HELP! THE YOUNG MASTER—!"
The shout echoed. Boots hammered closer. Ye Chen fought the void's pull—a sucking undertow dragging him down. Not yet. He clawed inward, past the gnawing emptiness, toward the faint warmth bleeding from the Spring Dew Elixir vials in his pocket. Just a thread. Hold me. He willed the energy into his veins, a fragile lifeline.
Chaos erupted. Guards flooded the hallway. Ye Zhan burst through the throng moments later, face bloodless. He dropped to his knees, gathering Ye Chen's limp body against his chest. "Chen'er!" The raw terror in his voice cut through every man present—a father's fear laid bare. "MU! What happened?"
"I don't know, Clan Lord!" Elder Mu wrung his hands, knuckles white. "He was examining the guards—alone, as you ordered. I found him like this! Pointing… trying to say something… 'He'… maybe he saw the poisoner?"
Ye Zhan's gaze snapped to the infirmary door, then back to his son's waxen face. Pieces clicked—snick, snick, snick—like a deadly lock tumbling open. The impossible alchemy. The reckless wager. The collapse after touching the poison. That shattered syllable: He. Betrayal wasn't suspicion anymore. It was a viper coiled in their robes, fangs sunk deep in his child.
"SEAL THE COMPOUND!" Ye Zhan roared, the sound cracking with fury and primal dread. "NO ONE LEAVES! FIND FENG! BRING HIM TO ME—NOW!"
Guards scattered, faces grim. Gates slammed like thunder. Patrols doubled. The hunt began.
Ye Chen drifted. He felt the jarring motion as his father carried him, heard shouts muffled as if underwater—door slam, boot stomp, tense whisper. The weight of Ye Zhan's fear pressed on him, heavy as stone. The Spring Dew's warmth was a guttering candle against the void's gale. Need herbs. Need to speak. Need…
He was laid on a padded bench in his father's study. A thick wool blanket settled over him, useless against the cold gnawing from within. Ye Zhan knelt beside him, pressing a steaming cup of bitter medicinal broth to his lips. "Drink, Chen'er. Please."
Ye Chen managed a sip. The brew tasted of earth and burnt roots, laced with a feeble trickle of spirit-restoring herbs. He forced his eyes open, meeting his father's desperate stare. "Father…" A threadbare whisper. "Vault… herbs… antidote… now… Feng… escaping…"
The fractured words struck home. Ye Zhan's jaw clenched hard enough to crack stone. "You know the antidote?" At Ye Chen's weak nod, a spark—fierce, desperate hope—flared in the Clan Lord's eyes. He barked at a guard: "Escort Elder Mu to the restricted vault! Fetch everything—Sun-Scorched Lotus Stamen, Crystallized Dawn Sap, Frost bloom Petals—MOVE!"
As the guard vanished, Ye Zhan gripped Ye Chen's small, icy hand. "Feng won't escape, Chen'er. The compound's sealed." The vow was steel, but beneath it, Ye Chen heard the tremor.
He's wrong. A traitor with Whispering Silverspine wouldn't be cornered easily. Ye Chen shut his eyes, conserving shreds of strength, stretching his nascent void sense outward—not to search, but to listen. To feel for the poison's unique, sickly-silver resonance… the taint Feng must carry.
Like hearing a sigh in a sandstorm. His senses frayed. The void's hunger yawned. He pushed, ignoring the fresh wave of icy exhaustion. Focus. Find the rot.
The compound seethed. Guards tore through buildings, voices sharp with tension. Near the decaying East Storage Sheds, Elder Feng pressed deep into shadow behind mildewed lumber. Sweat slicked his brow. Gone was the placid elder—his eyes darted, wild. He clutched a small jade talisman—a one-time spatial shunt, hoarded for decades. Emergency. This was it.
Fingers fumbled. Click. Hiss. The talisman warmed. A few more heartbeats… he'd be gone. Warn the Scarlet Moon about the freak child. That unnatural—
There.
A flicker of cold awareness pricked Ye Chen's mind—faint, silvery, laced with sour fear. East Sheds. He forced his eyes open, met his father's gaze. "East… Sheds…" A gasp, barely sound. "Feng… escaping… jade…"
Ye Zhan didn't hesitate. He surged up, roaring: "EAST SHEDS! HE'S THERE! STOP HIM—!"
The command cracked like a whip. Boots pounded, converging. Shouts swelled—closer, closer.
Feng heard it. Panic surged. He dumped qi into the talisman. Violet light flared, warping the air—hummmp-WHINE. Space groaned. "Too late, fools!" he spat, a grin twisting his face. "Burn with this cursed clan!"
CRASH! The shed door exploded inward. Four guards burst in, blades gleaming. Their eyes locked on Feng, the glowing talisman, his sneer.
"TRAITOR!" The lead guard lunged.
Feng snarled, abandoning the activation. He ducked, flinging a handful of shimmering silver dust—more Silverspine! Guards recoiled, coughing. One second. He slapped his palm back onto the talisman, pouring in every scrap of qi.
VWOOM!
Violet light blazed. Space shrieked. Guards flung arms over their eyes, stumbling blind.
Light faded. Dust motes danced in sudden silence. Ozone stung the air.
Feng was gone.
On the filthy floor: an empty Silverspine vial… and a single, fractured shard of pale jade.
The lead guard picked it up. Cool. Etched with impossibly fine, alien runes. He stared toward the Clan Lord's study, grim understanding settling. Escaped… but he'd left a piece of his key. And a name: Feng.
Back in the study, Ye Chen felt the silvery taint snap—replaced by a violent spatial wrench that echoed through his void senses like a gong. Gone. He sagged back, spent. He hadn't stopped him… but he'd unmasked the snake. Bought knowledge.
Elder Mu rushed in, breathless, clutching a small ironwood chest brimming with precious herbs—Stamen, Dawn Sap, others. His eyes bulged. "Clan Lord! Young Master! Feng—spatial treasure! Escaped! But they found this!" He thrust out the jade shard.
Ye Zhan took it. Fury warred with frustrated relief on his face. He looked down at Ye Chen—exhausted, too-pale, eyes holding an ancient weight. The boy had been right. About everything. The cost was etched in his chill, his stillness.
"We know the viper," Ye Zhan stated, voice thick. He squeezed the jade fragment, edges biting his palm. "And he left a piece of his key." He turned to Mu, Clan Lord authority hardening his tone. "Prepare the alchemy lab. Seal it. Young Master Ye gets everything. No interruptions. No questions." His gaze locked back on Ye Chen—the unspoken plea screaming louder than any order: Save them. Then tell me what hell is living inside my son.
Ye Chen gave a ghost of a nod. The traitor was named. The herbs were here. Now came the forge: crafting antidote with a child's hands and a spirit held together by fraying threads. The void inside him yawned. The Scarlet Moon's sunset loomed.