The night passed quickly. Outside, the wind howled; inside, the only sound was the soft rustling of pages turning.
Before dawn broke, Shen Qinghe finally found the description of the Illusory Magic Flower.
What she read left her stunned.
The Illusory Magic Flower could drain the vitality of the living, turning them into the dead—but likewise, it could bring the dead back to life.
Beneath the passage, there was a note written by someone in recent years, suggesting the flower might serve as a medium to transfer Life Chance from one person to another.
Shen Qinghe felt an inexplicable chill run down her spine, not daring to dwell on it.
Were these unconscious people also part of an experiment with the Illusory Magic Flower? And in the end, whose Life Chance would it flow to?
Chu Yueshuang was already dead—so did that mean the calamity of Spirit Medicine Valley had truly passed?
No one could answer Shen Qinghe’s questions.
Fortunately, this ancient text was far more detailed than the miscellaneous books she had read. It recorded a method for removing the seeds of the Illusory Magic Flower from a human body—but it required refining medicinal pills.
Shen Qinghe knew how to refine simple pills, but could she succeed here?
She wanted to ask her brother to have someone refine the pills outside, but the ancient text stated that the Illusory Magic Flower seeds would sprout within a person’s body within two days. Once that happened, the flower would have already merged with the host, leaving no cure—only the fate of becoming the flower’s nourishment.
Shen Qinghe barely had time to inform her brother of what was happening here before Shen Qingci was already rushing over.
She had all the herbs needed for the antidote and soon began refining the pills.
Before starting, she felt a bit anxious and asked Lizhu, “Do you think I can succeed in refining these pills?”
Lizhu: “Do you want to succeed?”
“Of course I do—so many lives depend on it.” Shen Qinghe answered without hesitation.
Lizhu curved his lips into a smile. “Then you will.”
Shen Qinghe inexplicably felt her confidence grow.
Two hours later, the first batch of pills came out. The quality was mediocre, but for an amateur, it was already quite impressive.
Shen Qinghe wiped the sweat from her brow and handed the pills to Lizhu. “Feed them to the others, please.”
Lizhu: “No.”
“Lizhu-gege, please help me out.” Shen Qinghe coaxed, gently nuzzling her head against his chest like a little kitten.
The white-haired youth seemed to have no way to refuse her. He lowered his head and kissed her lips lightly. “Fine.”
Lizhu took the pills and left.
Shen Qinghe, meanwhile, hurriedly began working on the next batch.
After some time, the white-haired youth returned. “Are they done?”
“Not yet. Be good and stay quiet for a while.” Shen Qinghe said.
“Alright, I won’t disturb you. I’ll just watch how you refine pills.” Lizhu walked to her side—then his hand suddenly transformed into a sharp blade, thrusting toward her.
Shen Qinghe dodged and sent a Demon-Warding Needle flying at him. The needle struck the ‘Lizhu’s’ arm, and it let out a twisted shriek of pain before dissolving into a mass of black mist, surging at her once more.
Shen Qinghe flung out six Demon-Warding Needles to encircle herself as the black mist slammed violently against her.
This Demonic Creature was clearly far more powerful than the one that had ambushed Chu Yueshuang earlier.
The six needles turned to ash almost in an instant, and the black mist only dimmed slightly.
Shen Qinghe’s vision went dark. She spat out a mouthful of blood, barely able to stay on her feet.
The Demonic Creature sensed her weakness and struck even harder, cackling with a sinister laugh: “Pure Yin Essence—I’ll have it.”
Shen Qinghe pulled out twelve more Demon-Warding Needles and held the line once again.
The Demonic Creature slammed into her again, and the Demon-Warding Needles vanished in an instant as before. However, since more needles were holding it back this time, Shen Qinghe didn’t feel as much pain. She pulled out another twelve.
The Demonic Creature sneered disdainfully. “Let’s see how long you can hold out.”
With that, it charged again.
After a dozen or so exchanges, the dark shadow around the Demonic Creature had dissipated considerably. It finally sensed something wrong. “You’re stalling for time?”
Shen Qinghe said nothing, simply pulling out another twelve Demon-Warding Needles—this was the method she had calculated to be the most efficient, conserving both her strength and the needles.
“Don’t think you can stall!”
Losing patience, the Demonic Creature struck again, but this time with a force completely different from before. Shen Qinghe was slammed against the wall, nearly blacking out on the spot.
The Demonic Creature laughed triumphantly, drawing closer and closer. A pitch-black hand emerged from the dark mist, its nails long and razor-sharp, like the claws of a beast.
Shen Qinghe’s entire body ached. She couldn’t move at all, and could only use her last bit of strength to whisper, “Lizhu…”
The Demonic Creature didn’t catch it. “What are you saying? Calling for your grandpa?”
“Lizhu…” Shen Qinghe’s voice grew slightly louder.
This time, the Demonic Creature heard clearly. At first, the name sounded familiar, and then its expression grew increasingly terrified.
“You—you’re actually his… Hahaha! I won’t take your body anymore. If I bring you to the Demon Lord, I’ll be set for life.”
The Demonic Creature’s form twisted with glee. It reached out to grab Shen Qinghe, intending to lift her up and carry her away.
But at that very moment, the Demonic Creature found itself completely frozen, its surroundings steeped in searing heat.
The sound of extremely light footsteps grew closer and closer, as if treading directly on one’s heart.
The Demonic Creature turned its head in shock and saw the approaching figure. Its dark shadow thrashed wildly in desperation. “My lord, my lord, don’t touch me! I saw nothing, I heard nothing. I’ll leave right now.”
“Noisy.”
The white-haired youth said the single word flatly, and the Demonic Creature’s body was engulfed in flames, quickly dissipating into nothing.
Yet the girl, also wrapped in flames, was not harmed in the slightest. The fire carried her gently to the white-haired youth.
Shen Qinghe opened her eyes groggily and murmured softly, “Lizhu… Lizhu…”
The white-haired youth looked down at her, his pitch-black pupils deep and unfathomable.
The girl’s neck was slender and fragile—with just a little pressure, she would vanish from this world.
No, he didn’t even need to exert force. Even just standing here quietly watching her, she would die.
Lizhu curled his lips slightly. His crimson mouth, illuminated by the flames, took on an even more eerie quality, and his words carried a deadly temptation.
“Let me ask you one last time—will you drink my blood?”
“Just drink my blood, and you’ll live again. All the pain in your body will be healed.”