Chapter 26
A thin layer of instability within his soul that hadn't been completely sealed.
Wei Zhi's eyes narrowed slightly.
She couldn't stop here.
Slowly, she moved again, more cautious this time. Her hand rose and hovered over his chest before she gently placed it down, her touch light but deliberate. She closed her eyes, drawing in a steady breath as she gathered what little control she had left, carefully channeling her qi once more.
Not forceful.
Not invasive.
Just enough.
She focused.
Her consciousness sank inward again, brushing against his soul layer with extreme caution. This time, she didn't push. She guided—softly reinforcing what remained fragile, strengthening the weakened edges rather than trying to repair everything at once.
Her qi flowed in a thin, controlled stream.
Careful.
Measured.
And then—She felt it.
Wuming's soul.
Calm.
Still.
Almost… too still.
For a brief moment, she thought it had stabilized completely.
But then—She listened.
Not with her ears.
Not with her qi.
But with something deeper.
She stilled her own breathing completely, her body going silent, her senses sharpening as she focused entirely on that connection.
And that was when—Her eyes snapped open.
Her pupils shrank.
Her face drained of color.
Because beneath that calm—There was something else.
A rhythm.
A pulse.
A heartbeat.
But it wasn't normal.
It wasn't steady.
It wasn't peaceful.
It carried—Emotion.
Violent.
Overwhelming.
Unrestrained.
It sounded like a melody—But not one of harmony.
A melody of wrath.
It roared through his soul in silent waves, each beat heavy, furious, filled with something so intense it felt like it could tear everything apart if it was ever fully unleashed. It wasn't just anger—it was something deeper, older, more consuming.
He was angry.
So angry.
Furious beyond reason.
And it didn't fade.
It didn't weaken.
It burned.
Relentless.
Wei Zhi felt her own heartbeat falter for a second before it began to hammer against her chest, fast and uneven. A chill ran down her spine despite the warmth of the room, her body reacting instinctively to something it could not fully comprehend.
She felt intimidated.
Not by him—But by what lived within him.
Still, she didn't pull away.
Instead, she focused harder, pushing past the fear, listening more carefully.
And then—She noticed something else.
Structure.
Not just a soul.
Not just a flow.
But divisions.
Clear.
Defined.
She froze.
"…what…?"
There were vessels.
Four of them.
Soul vessels.
She could feel them distinctly now, each one separate, each one holding something different.
The first—Was his.
Stable.
Central.
The core of everything.
The second—Familiar in nature, yet empty.
A beast vessel.
Her thoughts aligned quickly.
He's a beast tamer…Of course.
That explained it.
He had inherited the Xiěyè tèzhǐ of Lady Yin Fu—the mark, the capacity to bind and control a beast through his soul. But that vessel was hollow.
Unused.
Waiting.
He didn't have a beast yet.
But the space existed.
Prepared.
Reserved.
Her breathing grew slower as she moved further.
Then—The third.
And the fourth.
She stopped.
Completely.
Because these—Did not make sense.
They weren't empty.
They weren't dormant.
They were occupied.
Her heart skipped.
"…what are those…?"
The third vessel—Was filled with that same black presence she had felt before.
Dense.
Heavy.
Watching.
But now—Up close—It felt even more terrifying.
It wasn't chaotic.
It wasn't wild.
It was controlled.
Contained.
As if it allowed itself to be.
Her qi brushed against it again—And this time—It didn't reject her.
It didn't consume her.
It simply… allowed her.
A silent permission.
Wei Zhi's breath caught.
It's letting me…That realization unsettled her even more.
It had the power to stop her completely.
To crush her efforts like before.
But now—It wasn't.
It was observing.
Measuring.
Deciding.
Her legs felt weak where she sat, a faint trembling running through her as the weight of that presence pressed against her awareness.
And then—The fourth vessel.
She hesitated.
Just for a second.
Before sensing it.
And when she did—Her entire body stiffened.
Because whatever was there—Was not something she could understand.
Not clearly.
Not fully.
But it existed.
And it was not empty.
Her breathing broke slightly, her control slipping for the briefest moment before she steadied herself again.
Four vessels.
Only one should exist.
At most—two.
But four?
That wasn't natural.
That wasn't normal.
That wasn't—Possible.
Wei Zhi slowly opened her eyes, her hand still resting against his chest, but her thoughts no longer steady.
Her gaze lingered on his face.
Quiet.
Unaware.
Unmoving.
Yet inside him—Something far beyond her understanding was alive.
Her fingers curled slightly.
Her voice didn't come out.
But her thoughts did.
What are you…?
Because what she had just seen—What she had just felt—Was not something meant to exist within a single person.
And yet—It did.
Inside him.
Her hand remained on his chest, but her thoughts no longer moved the same way.
Slow.
Careful.
Measured.
Because what she had just sensed refused to fit into anything she had ever been taught.
Her breathing steadied slightly, but her mind did not.
It kept circling back—To those vessels.
To that structure.
To that impossibility.
Every human…Has only one.
One vessel.
One soul core.
That is the rule.
That is the foundation of everything.
Even beast tamers—At most—Form a second vessel.
A borrowed space.
A controlled extension.
Never equal.
Never independent.
And yet—Wuming…Was different.
Not slightly.
Not unusually.
But fundamentally.
Her fingers pressed faintly against his chest again, as if confirming what she had already felt.
One vessel—His own soul.
Stable.
Central.
The axis.
The one that should define him.
The second—The beast vessel.
Empty.
Silent.
Waiting for something that had not yet arrived.
That alone should have been the limit.
That alone should have been the exception.
But it wasn't.
There were more.
Two more.
Not extensions.
Not fragments.
Not artificial constructs.
But complete.
Independent.
Existing.
Her pupils shrank slightly again.
"…impossible…"
The word didn't leave her lips.
It formed only in her thoughts.
Because saying it out loud would mean accepting it.
And she wasn't ready to do that yet.
She thought :Three additional vessels.
Not one.
Not two.
Three.
Which meant—He wasn't just a cultivator.
He wasn't just a beast tamer.
He wasn't even just something abnormal.
He was—A system that shouldn't exist. A structure that broke the rules entirely.
He was a mistake.
No he's not a mistake, who am i to say this? He's loved, he's precious to lady Yin fu. He is wanted.
Unlike me.
I was a wanted child who later become the unwanted child.
A child, for whom the begged, prayed, wished with so much love was now nothing but a trash.
She looked at him again, looking at his face.
Her heartbeat picked up again, quieter this time, but heavier.
Because now—She understood it more clearly.
Not fully.
But enough.
He wasn't carrying extra power.
He wasn't storing excess energy.
He wasn't overdeveloped.
He was built differently.
Completely.
As if someone—or something—Had rewritten the very concept of what a "soul vessel" could be.
Her gaze lowered slightly.
That third vessel—The black one.
That presence.
It wasn't assisting him.
It wasn't protecting him out of loyalty.
It existed on its own terms.
And yet—It chose to remain.
Within him.
The fourth—Still unclear.
Still unreadable.
But present.
And that was enough to make her uneasy.
Because unknown was always more dangerous than hostile.
Her hand slowly withdrew from his chest.
Not in fear—But in thought.
Deep.
Careful.
Heavy thought.
"He's…"
She paused.
Her voice finally coming out, quiet, almost lost in the silence of the room.
"…the master of four vessels."
A faint breath left her.
Then she corrected herself internally.
No.
Not just four.
Because one—
Belonged to every human.
Which meant—What made him different…
Wasn't what he had.
But what he had extra.
Three additional vessels.
Three unknown variables.
Three separate existences.
Inside one body.
Her eyes narrowed slightly as she looked at him again, something sharper forming beneath the calm.
"That's not talent…"
It wasn't luck.
It wasn't inheritance alone.
It wasn't cultivation.
"…that's something else entirely."
Something that shouldn't exist.
Something that shouldn't be stable.
Something that should have torn him apart long ago.
And yet—He was alive.
Breathing.
Holding it all together.
As if it was natural.
As if it belonged.
Wei Zhi's fingers curled slightly at her side.
Because now—The question had changed.
It was no longer:
How do I heal him?
It was—What exactly am I trying to heal? Wei Zhi slowly withdrew her hand from his chest, her fingers lingering for a brief second as if reluctant to break that connection. Her mind, however, was far from steady.
How can he even handle this…?
The thought repeated itself, heavier each time.
One vessel was already the limit for most.
Two—only for those rare enough to walk the path of beast taming.
But three?
And eventually four?
Her brows drew together slightly, exhaustion finally beginning to settle into her bones.
It's too complex…Healing a single soul required precision.
Balance.
Control.
But Wuming—He wasn't a single system.
He was layered.
Interlocked.
Unstable in ways that didn't show on the surface.
Every time her qi touched him, she had to adjust, redirect, restrain herself from going too deep again. It wasn't just healing—it was navigating something unknown.
Her breathing turned heavier.
Healing him… takes too much qi…She glanced at her own hands.
With the amount of qi it took to heal him, i could heal myself 20 more times, even in the wost state, than him.
Well that woman's practise and experiment paid off finally.
A faint tremor.
Subtle.
But there.
I'm almost drained…Three hours.
It had been three full hours since she started.
Three hours of constant control, constant focus, constant risk.
If she had made even one wrong move earlier—Her eyes flickered slightly.
She didn't finish that thought.
Instead, she exhaled quietly, letting her shoulders drop just a little.
Thankfully… he came here…
If he had collapsed anywhere else—If no one had understood what was happening—She closed her eyes for a brief second.
…and thanks to that woman.
A faint memory surfaced.
Guidance.
Observation.
Training she had once thought she would never use like this.
I thought I wouldn't be able to do this on anyone but myself…
And yet—She had.
Barely.
But enough.
Slowly, she pushed herself up to her feet.
Her legs felt heavier than usual, a slight weakness running through them as the strain finally caught up. She took a step back, putting a bit of distance between herself and the bed.
Then—She noticed.
Wuming.
Still.
Lying there.
The towel loosely wrapped around him, barely enough after everything that had happened.
Her expression shifted slightly—not flustered, not embarrassed—just… aware.
Practical.
She moved without hesitation.
Reaching for the blanket, she lifted it and carefully spread it over him, adjusting it properly so it covered him fully. Her movements were quiet, controlled, making sure not to disturb him.
He didn't react.
His breathing remained steady.
Even.
Calm.
A stark contrast to how he had been earlier.
Her gaze lingered on him for a moment.
Then shifted.
She reached for the cloth resting nearby—the one she had placed earlier.
It was no longer as cold. It was dry, as a new cloth. Thank god I put it on him.
She picked it up, feeling its temperature between her fingers before setting it aside.
Her eyes narrowed slightly in thought.
His body's temperature is normal now…
Earlier—It had been different.
His body had turned cold from within.
Not external.
Internal imbalance.
That's why she had done it.
Not instinct.
Not guesswork.
Choice.
Her qi—By nature—Carried warmth.
Refinement.
Stabilization through heat.
But too much warmth—Would have worsened the imbalance.
So she had countered it.
Externally.
Cold cloth.
To regulate the body while the internal system adjusted.
Her gaze lowered slightly.
Using more than one element…
Her fingers curled faintly.
…is never easy.
Most healers specialized in one.
At most—two.
Beyond that—Control dropped.
Risk increased.
But she had managed.
Barely.
And only because she understood what she was doing.
Her eyes returned to Wuming.
Now calm.
Now stable.
Now—Silent.
For a long moment, she said nothing.
End of 26