142. Changing tones

Yeqing sat in front of Elder Tiefang, a wide smile stretched across his face as he took a long, satisfying sip from the cup in his hand. The herbal tea—made from mountain-grown leaves around the sect—was leagues above anything he’d tasted during his days impersonating Han Fei. The bitterness was just right. It was clean, sharp, and it felt real.

Finally, finally!

He was done pretending.

As soon as he’d returned, he’d gone straight to the elder’s chambers, even if his robes were still dusty from the road.

Elder Tiefang leaned back in his seat, hands folded in front of him. “Judging from that expression, I assume you were successful.”

Yeqing nodded, still holding the cup close. “I was. But it wasn’t easy.”

He set the cup down and leaned forward slightly.

“I managed to infiltrate the Jadefire Hall sect grounds. They didn’t suspect a thing. I didn’t get to witness the pill-making process directly… but I did make it inside their storage warehouse.”

A glimmer of satisfaction flashed in the elder’s eyes.

“I saw the herbs gathered there,” Yeqing continued. “And I’m confident, we’ll eventually be able to replicate their flavoured pills ourselves.”

That was when Elder Tiefang smiled.

Yeqing stilled for a second, eyes fixed on the man across from him. In all his years under the elder, he had barely seen a smile on his face—maybe, once or twice. It was the clearest sign that he had pleased him.

“What ingredients?” Tiefang asked.

Yeqing didn’t hesitate.

“Alongside the usual herbs—Jadeveil root, Starpetal leaf, Blackscale bark—I found others. Ones that didn’t belong in any medicinal formula.”

He reached into his satchel, drawing out folded parchments and laying it open on the table.

He pointed to the notes and sketches he had drawn—thin strands of a creeping vine, purple-tinted berries, and a grey, almost petrified stalk.

“Nightsting Vine. Hollowberry pulp. Fangshade grass. All of them are poisonous. None of them are medicinal.”

Elder Tiefang’s eyes narrowed slightly but said nothing.

“And this,” Yeqing added, pulling out the small sealed vial of dark liquid. “Beast blood. I don’t know what kind, but…”

He passed it forward.

The elder took it, opened the cap, sniffed it briefly, then tilted it and let a drop fall to his fingers. He rubbed it between his thumb and index, eyes closing in thought.

“It’s thick,” Tiefang murmured. “And the smell is… unusual. Hard to say what beast it came from, but it won’t take long to identify.”

He set the vial aside carefully.

“Very good, Yeqing.”

Yeqing allowed himself a breath of pride. He had done what was asked and more.

“But why would they use herbs associated with poison?”

Yeqing shook his head slowly. “I have no idea, Elder Tiefang. I only found them tucked between the other herbs in their storage. My guess is that those poisonous herbs have some kind of property that enhances the pills. Maybe they use them in such small quantities that the toxicity is neutralized by other ingredients.”

“It’s possible,” Tiefang said, though his voice remained unreadable. For a moment, he couldn’t tell what the elder was thinking. “But we won’t know for sure until we begin experimenting.”

He leaned back slightly and gave a soft exhale through his nose.

“Give the list of everything you found to my disciples. They’ll know what to do with it.”

Yeqing nodded.

“I’ll examine the vial personally,” the elder continued. “Having beast blood in these types of pills is… unusual. But then again, we’re dealing with unusual opponents here.”

Yeqing finished the last of his tea, placed the cup down with care, then stood up and gave a respectful bow, but he didn’t turn to leave. Not yet.

An expectant look settled on his face, subtle but clear enough. Elder Tiefang noticed, of course. A faint sigh slipped from the elder’s lips.

“You’ll receive your reward by the end of the day. I’ll also make sure your name and accomplishments reach the ears of all the inner elders. I’m certain more than a few will take interest in a capable disciple like yourself.”

Yeqing’s lips curled into another smile of genuine pride. “Thank you, Elder Tiefang. I’m honoured to be of service to you and to our glorious sect.”

With that, he bowed again, deeper this time, and finally took his leave.

His steps were lighter than they had been in weeks. The ache in his legs, the strain of pretending, the humiliation of bowing like a mortal—all worth it.

He had carved a clear path toward the foundation establishment realm. And maybe even beyond. It hadn’t even been that hard.

Tiring? Yes.

Headache-inducing? Absolutely.

But not once had the Divine Pill Apothecary’s people suspected his identity. Not even that Chen Ren. They hadn’t noticed a thing.

Yeqing couldn’t help but wonder—just how would they react when the Darkmoon Sect began flooding the markets with their own version of the flavoured pills?

A smirk danced on his lips as he disappeared down the corridor.

Let them find out the hard way.

***

Yeqing sat across from Elder Tiefang once again—but this time, there was no tea. No smiles. No praise. Even the air felt hostile.

It turned out that the Darkmoon Sect never figured out the recipe.

He didn’t understand it at first. Not until Elder Tiefang summoned him just a week after his return—a week that had easily been the best of his life.

He had finally gotten the Myst Core Pill, the one that would help him ascend. And not only that, he’d received things he’d never received in his lifetime.

Whispers of his exploits had swept through the sect like wildfire. None of the outer disciples knew exactly what he had done, only that it was dangerous and important, and that he had succeeded.

For the first time, he felt seen.

Even a few female disciples had taken notice. Asked to "study cultivation methods" together.

Everything had been perfect. So perfect. Or maybe, it really was too good to be true.

Because now, Elder Tiefang was staring at him like he had defiled his granddaughter and then thrown her off a cliff.

“What kind of ingredients did you list?” the elder snapped, his voice barely restrained.

Yeqing felt a shiver run through his spine. “Elder, I—”

“Half the disciples working on that pill are bedridden,” Tiefang cut him off, voice rising with every word. “And those we sent to hunt that kirin blood beast to extract its blood nearly died from the poisonous fog it released! They barely made it back! Are you trying to sabotage your own sect?”

Yeqing’s stomach twisted.

“I don’t understand,” he said quickly. “I swear I told you everything I saw. I wouldn’t lie to you, Elder Tiefang. Not after everything you've done for me.”

The elder slammed a fist down on the table with a

crack

, shaking the incense burner at the edge.

“Then what is it?!” he barked. “Why is this list of yours worthless? Why haven’t we managed to craft even a decent pill from it—forget about a Qi Replenishment one!?”

Yeqing opened his mouth but no words came. He had seen those herbs with his own eyes. Every leaf. Every bark. Every carefully stacked crate.

So how in the hells had it all gone wrong?

Just then, Elder Tiefang threw a pill and it hit his palm with a soft thud.

Yeqing frowned and looked down.

The pill was cracked along the edges, like dried mud under the sun. Its supposed glossy sheen was replaced by a dull, uneven surface riddled with grainy patches. It smelled faintly metallic—like something sour left in the rain—and there was a bitter aftertrace in the air, the kind that stuck to your tongue even without tasting it.

No warmth. No shimmer of mint. Just… rot.

“What does this even do?” Yeqing asked, brow furrowed as he turned it over in his fingers.

Elder Tiefang leaned back, face stiff with anger. “Gives someone a stomach worse than and send them wishing for death worse than any poison pill could,” he said dryly. “That’s if they’re lucky. It is horrible!”

Yeqing gasped quietly.

What the hell?

“Impurities,” the elder snapped. “Too many to count. The moment the pill dissolves in the system, it floods the meridians with trash. And worse—whatever little qi it does generate… it clogs. Slows down cultivation. Forces the body to spend days, weeks cleansing itself before any recovery starts.”

He rubbed his temple, like he had a growing headache.

This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

“And no matter what combination we tried, no matter how we adjusted the ratio, we only got variations of this damn pill. The beast blood too—the one you handed over—it belongs to a thing that releases poisonous gas after it dies. One disciple almost lost his lungs. Do you have any idea how hard that is to cure?”

Yeqing’s grip on the pill tightened. His jaw locked.

“I did everything you asked,” he said, trying to choose his words carefully. “I infiltrated Jadefire Hall. I snuck into the storage hall. I took notes. I saw those ingredients myself—Jadeveil Root, Starpetal Leaf, Blackscale Bark… the poison herbs… the beast blood. There wasn’t anything else. I swear it.”

Tiefang stared him down. “Then explain how this happened.”

Yeqing said nothing.

“Explain,” the elder barked, “how you did everything right—yet we haven’t even touched the first step of replicating those flavoured pills. Are you saying you had it wrong? Or that you were lying to me?”

A heavy silence dropped between them. Then, Elder Tiefang’s voice dropped a note.

“Or did you… give away your identity?”

Yeqing’s heart stuttered.

He hadn’t. He was sure he hadn’t. No one had looked at him strangely. No one had confronted him. He hadn’t gotten a single alarming thing. Nothing—But now, with the elder’s glare drilling holes into his skull… the doubts crept in.

Did someone see through him?

But… but he had done everything right. He had locked his qi tight, dropped his posture, acted like a trembling mortal for weeks. He had faked weakness, faked awe, faked ignorance. Even that cursed wagon-pulling trip up the mountain—he had played the part to perfection.

Hadn’t he?

The seed of doubt wriggled deeper.

That day on the street…

That flash of intuition, the prickling sensation at his nape. He’d dismissed it, brushed it off like a nervous tic. But what if it hadn’t been a mistake? What if that was the moment someone was following him?

Was I already known then?

Did they follow me? Track me all the way to my hideout?

His fingers twitched at the memory of the bound man in the wardrobe.

Had they found him? Freed him? Or worse… were they watching me the entire time?

No. Worse than that. They had let him walk into the storage room. Left it unguarded without any wards or arrays. Fuck, there weren’t even a preserving talisman. It hadn’t been a lapse. It had been bait. A stage.

They wanted me to see those ingredients.

His breath caught. But before he could spell it out, Elder Tiefang scoffed from his seat, pulling Yeqing from his spiraling thoughts.

“You were fooled,” he spat. “

We

were fooled. And this…” He waved at the ruined pill on the table. “This is the biggest insult I’ve suffered in five decades.”

There was a pause in his words, but the man didn’t stop. He narrowed his eyes. “Tell me, Yeqing, what do you want to do about it?”

For a brief second, Yeqing didn’t answer, because he didn’t know how to.

What could he even do? Go back? Infiltrate again? They’d been waiting for him to infiltrate, and if they’d let him go once, it was because they wanted to. And that mercy wouldn’t repeat.

If he stepped foot near the Divine Pill Apothecary again, it wouldn’t be with false smiles—it would be with swords pointed at his throat. His throat tightened.

“I…” he started, but no words followed.

The elder rose without a sound. He walked to the shelf by the window. Opened a drawer.

A large bottle emerged.

Without a word, Elder Tiefang uncorked it and drank straight from the neck.

Yeqing watched in stunned silence as the old man drank. Not a sip. Not a swig. A

gulp

. One that didn’t end until half the bottle was gone.

When the elder turned back around, his expression wasn’t angry anymore. It was tired.

“What?” Elder Tiefang growled, eyes bloodshot and half-lidded. “You want a sip too?”

Yeqing quickly shook his head. “No, Elder Tiefang. I wouldn’t dare.”

The elder scoffed, wiping the corner of his mouth with the sleeve of his robe.

Yeqing hesitated for a second before lowering his gaze again. “I… I will try to make it better. Somehow.”

That earned him a wet, guttural laugh.

“Try?” Tiefang spat. “And what will you do, huh? Make another trip and ask them nicely this time? Maybe hold your begging bowl out in front of their gates?”

Yeqing clenched his fists but said nothing.

“You think this is just a failed mission?” the elder continued, pacing now. “Do you know how much we’re losing every day? The sales of our best-selling pills are bleeding out, and those Divine Pill bastards just won’t stop! And you know what happens when the Sect Leader gets wind of this?”

Yeqing bowed deeper. “He’ll have our skin?”

The elder snorted. “He’ll have my skin. What’s he going to do with yours? Your skin’s not worth anything.”

Those words hit harder than they should have. Not because they were cruel—Yeqing was used to that—but because they were true. His head lowered further, a sinking weight settling in his gut. Not just because he’d failed. But because he knew what that failure cost him.

He hadn’t taken the pill.

That one, precious, foundation-setting pill Elder Tiefang had handed to him. He’d waited, stupidly, thinking it wiser to build up his qi base first. Set the stage. Perfect his breathing. Plan his breakthrough.

He should’ve just swallowed it the moment it touched his fingers. And now… there was no way the elder would let him keep it.

He looked up slowly.

Elder Tiefang was still standing, glaring at nothing, while chugging the drink like it was his last line of life.

He waited for a few seconds, but the silence only grew, and the only noise was of gulping. Yeqing swallowed, “Is there… is there no other way, Elder Tiefang?”

The old man huffed like he hadn’t even heard the question—then glanced sideways. That glare made him shrink further, maybe he would die today. No, not maybe. He would definitely die today.

The elder opened his mouth. “None that I could think of,” he muttered. “Whatever strings I could pull, I already pulled. Even the debt angle didn’t bite. Didn’t work. That bastard Chen Ren had planned for it from the beginning.”

Yeqing felt his chest tighten.

“We have no choice left but to inform the sect leader about it.”

Elder Tiefang tried to take a sip out of the bottle at hand. He puckered his lips, but nothing came—the bottle was empty. He looked down at the empty bottle in his hand.

Then, with a snarl, hurled it at the wall behind Yeqing.

This time, Yeqing shuddered, his hands clutched tighter.

The bottle shattered.

Glass splinters sprayed across the floor. The elder’s breathing was ragged, chest rising and falling as silence settled thick in the room once more.

“Raise your head,” Tiefang said. “Raise. Your. Head!”

Yeqing obeyed.

He looked up slowly, meeting the elder’s gaze. His eyes were glassy, slightly bloodshot—half from drink, half from fury barely held back. There was no trace of warmth in them.

“You’re going to come with me,” Tiefang said.

Huh?

Yeqing blinked. “Where?”

“To the Sect Leader,” the elder replied, turning towards the door.

And just like that, the world around Yeqing seemed to tilt.

“To… the Sect Leader?” he repeated, barely more than a whisper.

Tiefang didn’t even glance back. “If I’m going down for this mess, I’m not going alone. You’re going to walk in there, look him in the eye, and tell him everything you saw while playing spy. Every crate. Every herb. Every failure.”

Yeqing went pale.

His lips parted, but no words came. His heart thudded loud in his ears, drowning out the elder’s footsteps as he made for the door. One thought echoed in his mind.

I’m not coming back out alive.

***

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