Chapter 24
His qi shifted—subtle, controlled—wrapping around him, concealing his presence completely.
He began walking toward the man.
Slowly.
Quietly.
Each step slightly uneven, his body swaying, legs threatening to give out—but his control remained.
Closer.
Closer.
Until he stood right behind him.
The man didn't notice.
Didn't sense him.
Didn't feel anything at all.
Wuming tilted his head slightly.
Then spoke.
"Hey…"
His voice cut through the silence.
Calm.
Cold.
"Waiting for my dead body?" His voice was cold and detached.
The man froze.
His entire body stiffened before he turned—
And stumbled back instantly.
Fear filled his face.
Pure.
Uncontrolled.
The man was terrorized
Wuming stood there, his posture slightly off, his breathing uneven—but his eyes…
They were menacing.
Sharp.
Unsettling.
The man's voice trembled.
"W-wait… how did you… how are you alive?"
"You should be dead…the snake was supposed to kill you."
Panic crept in.
Rapid.
Uncontrolled.
"Oh no—no no—no! NO!" The man's face was in horror as the realisation struck him.
He turned and ran. Screaming for help.
But he didn't get far.
Wuming appeared in front of him.
Just there.
Blocking his path.
A slow, dangerous smile formed on his lips.
"Too bad…"
His voice dropped.
"…bastard."
"I am no saint. And there's no saint like a sinner."
His leg moved suddenly.
A sharp kick to the shin.
The man cried out, collapsing forward, balance completely broken.
Before he could react—Wuming grabbed him.
Both hands rising, gripping his face tightly—one on each side.
His palms covered the man's ears.
His cheeks.
Locking him in place.
Pulling him close.
So close he could feel his breath.
Then Wuming leaned in slightly.
And whispered.
"You know what…"
"I am going to give you a peaceful death…"
A pause.
His grip tightened.
"…since I am in so much pain."
A faint, cold breath left him.
"You are so fucking lucky."
And then—
He twisted.
A sharp, clean motion.
The body went still before the man could say anything.
Silence followed.
Wuming stood there for a moment, hands still on the lifeless face, before slowly —Wuming let the body drop.
It hit the ground with a dull, lifeless sound, limbs settling at unnatural angles. For a brief moment, he just stood there, staring down at it, his hands still slightly raised from the motion. Then the strength in his fingers loosened, and his arms fell to his sides.
The world tilted.
Not visibly—but inside him.
That crushing sensation in his chest deepened, spreading outward like cracks forming through something fragile. His breathing grew uneven again, each inhale sharper than the last, as if the air itself resisted entering his lungs.
He took a step forward.
His foot didn't land properly.
He staggered.
Caught himself.
"…tch."
A faint sound escaped him, more irritation than pain—but it didn't last long.
Because the pain surged again.
Stronger.
Deeper.
His hand shot back to his chest, fingers pressing hard against his sternum as if he could physically suppress whatever was happening inside. His knees bent slightly, his posture lowering as his balance threatened to give out completely.
That attack…
It wasn't done.
It hadn't ended with the snake.
It was still working inside him.
Slowly.
Deliberately.
Like something was gnawing at the edges of his soul.
Wuming's jaw tightened.
He forced himself upright again.
"No…"
His voice came out rough.
Low.
"I'm not dropping here."
Not now.
Not like this.
His gaze lifted, scanning the dark pathway ahead. The academy grounds stretched quietly in the distance, shadows pooling between structures, the night pressing in from all sides. Everything felt farther than it should have been.
Wei Zhi.
The thought came again.
Clearer this time.
More urgent.
He needed her.
Not because he was weak—
But because right now, she was the only one who could understand what was happening to him.
His steps resumed.
Slower than before.
Less stable.
But still moving.
Each step dragged slightly, his body resisting him more with every passing second. His vision blurred at the edges, darkness creeping in like ink spreading through water.
The world dimmed.
Sharpened.
Then dimmed again.
He exhaled through clenched teeth.
Focus.
Move.
Don't stop.
The path ahead shifted faintly as he walked, the ground seeming uneven even though it wasn't. His shoulders felt heavier, his limbs slower, as if invisible chains had wrapped around him.
That black energy—
It was interfering.
Not just attacking.
Suppressing.
Testing.
Wuming's eyes narrowed faintly despite the haze creeping into them.
"…so that's your game…"
A quiet realization formed.
This wasn't meant to kill him instantly.
It was meant to weaken him.
Break him from the inside.
Then finish him.
His lips pressed into a thin line.
"Too slow…"
Another step.
Then another.
His body lurched slightly to the side, his shoulder brushing against a nearby wall for support. His hand slid along the surface as he steadied himself, fingers leaving faint streaks of moisture behind.
His breathing grew heavier.
Colder.
But his eyes—
They refused to close.
Not yet.
Not until—
A faint presence brushed against his senses.
Subtle.
Familiar.
His steps slowed.
Then stopped.
He lifted his head slightly, forcing his vision to focus through the haze.
There—
Ahead.
A faint silhouette.
Light.
Small.
But distinct.
His chest tightened—not from pain this time.
Recognition.
"Wei… zhi…"
Her name left his lips again, quieter than before.
But this time—
It wasn't just a thought.
It reached outward.
Carried on whatever remained of his strength.
His body swayed once more.
Forward.
Then—
Everything gave way.
His legs finally failed him.
The strength he had been forcing into them vanished all at once, and his body tipped forward, balance completely lost.
But even as he fell—
His gaze remained fixed ahead.
On that faint, familiar presence.
As if that alone was enough to keep him conscious just a moment longer.
Just enough—
To reach her.
Before the darkness closed in.
Wuming's body tipped forward, the last thread of strength snapping as darkness rushed in from the edges of his vision. His eyes began to close—heavy, unwilling—as the world around him dissolved into silence. His senses dulled, his thoughts scattered into fragments that refused to stay together, slipping further and further away from his grasp.
Then a voice cut through it.
Sharp. Clear. Unmistakable.
"Don't stop now. Wake up."
The darkness trembled slightly, as if disturbed.
A pause followed, and then the voice came again—colder this time, edged with something almost mocking.
"Wake up to reality. It's nothing but your damn fantasy, you fool."
Wuming's eyes snapped open.
A sharp breath tore through his chest, but it brought no relief. His lungs moved, yet it felt like he wasn't breathing at all—as if the air itself refused to reach him. His body tensed slightly, trying to ground itself, trying to understand what had just happened.
He wasn't on the ground.
He wasn't falling.
He was standing.
Upright.
Still.
Leaning slightly against a pillar.
Right in front of Wei Zhi's room.
For a moment, he didn't move. His vision steadied slowly, the world piecing itself back together—walls, corridor, dim light stretching across the floor. Everything looked real. Too real. His breathing remained rough, uneven, like something had dragged him back from a place he wasn't meant to return from.
Then his gaze shifted.
And he saw it.
Standing in front of him.
Small.
Unnatural.
Watching him.
The demon infant.
Its expression was different this time. There was no curiosity, no strange playfulness—only a faint frown, as if it were displeased with him. Its dark eyes locked onto his, steady and unblinking.
"Wake up," it said again, quieter now, but carrying the same weight.
"She's not very far away."
Wuming didn't respond immediately. His mind was slower now, catching up piece by piece, reconstructing what had just happened. The collapse. The darkness. The feeling of sinking into something endless—
"…a hallucination."
The realization settled in.
That attack from the snake hadn't simply damaged him. It had dragged him into something else entirely—a fabricated state, a false ending designed to trap him at the edge of consciousness.
And while it did that—
It drained him.
Completely.
Wuming flexed his fingers slightly.
Nothing responded.
No flow.
No movement of energy.
"…my qi…"
Gone.
Not weakened.
Not reduced.
Gone.
Absolute Zero.
His body felt hollow, empty, as if everything inside him had been scraped clean and left vacant. And yet he was still standing. Still aware. Still conscious.
His gaze lowered slightly, resting once more on the figure in front of him.
The demon infant.
It didn't follow the rules of qi. It never had. It existed outside that system entirely, untouched by its limitations—as if the very concept of restriction simply didn't apply to it.
It pragmatically said, the laws of qi can kiss my ass.
A quiet breath left Wuming.
"…of course."
The only reason he was still here—the only reason he had broken out of that illusion—was because of it.
Slowly, he raised his hand. The movement was heavier than usual, but controlled. He reached forward and gently placed his hand on the infant's head, giving it a light pat.
"…good job."
For a brief second, the infant's expression shifted. It smiled—wide, sharp, almost unsettling—but there was satisfaction in it.
Then its form began to blur.
Its outline dissolved into thin strands of dark energy, fading at the edges.
Without a sound, it moved forward—
And merged into him.
Gone.
Silence returned.
Wuming stood there alone once again, his hand lowering slowly back to his side. His breathing was still uneven, his body still empty, but his mind was clear now.
He understood.
That thing—the demon infant—wasn't just something that existed within him.
It was a safeguard.
A trigger.
Something that appeared only when he reached the very edge.
The brink of death.
Or something close enough to it.
A second lifeline.
A final interruption.
A force that refused to let him fall completely.
Wuming exhaled slowly, his gaze shifting toward the door in front of him.
Wei Zhi was just beyond it.
Close.
Within reach.
But for the first time, he didn't move immediately.
Because now he knew—
Whatever had been sent after him…
Wasn't done yet.
He tried to take a step forward, but his body didn't listen. His balance broke instantly, and he stumbled, his knees hitting the ground with a dull impact that echoed faintly through the corridor. The strength he thought he had regained vanished just as quickly as it came.
"…tch…"
A strained breath escaped him, but he didn't stop.
He couldn't.
Slowly, painfully, he began to crawl.
Each movement dragged, heavy and uncooperative. His palms pressed against the cold floor, fingers slipping slightly as his arms pulled his weight forward. His breathing grew harsher with every inch, his chest tightening, his vision blurring again at the edges—but his focus didn't waver.
Five feet.
That was all.
Yet it felt like a distance he had to fight for.
He reached her door.
His hand lifted—shaking, weak—and he knocked. The sound wasn't loud, but in the silence, it was enough.
Inside, something shifted.
The door opened.
Wei Zhi stood there.
For a split second, her expression didn't change. She had been studying, a book still open behind her, the room faintly lit and calm.
Then she saw him.
Everything shifted.
Wuming's eyes lifted slightly to meet hers, barely able to keep focus. "I got… ambushed…" His voice was rough, low, breaking under strain. "My soul… it hurts…" He took a shallow breath. "…help me… Wei Zhi…"
That was all he managed before his body gave in.
Wei Zhi moved instantly.
No hesitation.
She dropped down, catching him before he could collapse completely, her hands gripping his head firmly as she pulled him closer, supporting his weight as best as she could.
"You idiot—" her voice came out sharp, strained, her control already slipping.
She didn't waste another second.
She dragged him inside.
The door shut behind them.
The calm of the room shattered immediately.
She pulled him further in, adjusting her hold—one arm around his back, the other gripping his shoulder as she steadied him. His body felt heavier than it should have, lifeless in places, unresponsive in others.
Her eyes scanned him quickly.
No visible wounds.
No blood.
But she knew.
This wasn't physical.
His soul.
End of 24