OwlrageousJones

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When I asked Mo Jianyang to start by describing the problem, I have to admit, I still wasn't expecting anything quite as dramatic as what came out of his mouth.

"My father is dying."

Although in retrospect, it'd have to be something fairly dramatic or he wouldn't be on his knees begging for our assistance, right?

"Our sect-the mission to-" He pauses for a moment, trying to marshal his words, "... A large number of our sect went away to assist in a war. Nearly all the sects sent cultivators."

I nod, but don't interrupt. I'm pretty sure it's whatever big kerfuffle had the Heavenly Misty Peak sending so many people as well - I guess the fighting's over. I hope Brother Shan's okay.

"They returned yesterday. We…" Another moment. "We sent one hundred men. Only nine returned, my father included."

… I really hope Brother Shan's okay. I swallow the burning questions, place a gentle hand on Cheng-ge's arm to remind him to keep his mouth shut for a little longer, and then wait for Mo Jianyang to continue.

His hands twist up into fists, clenching tightly enough that I'm concerned he's going to draw blood. "None of them are… uninjured, but my father…" He swallows. "Whatever vile sorcery they used, our healers have not been able to counteract it. Please. You're the only ones I can turn to."

It's not that I don't want him to lean on us for support when he needs it - I'm glad he's reaching out, really! - it's just… this is a little out of my depth. For now, I just resort to what I know best, which is serve food and be a comforting presence.

And it just so happens I have a new handy trick to do both at the same time so I spoon out some congee for him. "Here," I offer quietly, "Eat this. It'll help you feel better."

He takes the bowl gingerly, staring into it as opposed to, you know, eating it. What do you think food is for, Mo Jianyang?

"We'll do everything we can to help," Zhou Cheng declares, eyes alight with determination and I'm trying really hard not to make a face. Please consult me before making promises, Cheng-ge! Although I can't say I'm against his words. For what it's worth, he hasn't promised we'd fix it or cure his father, just that we'll do our best to help.

I don't want to give Mo Jianyang false hope if I can avoid it. "I suppose our first step is to… assess your father's condition. Will your sect be amenable to that?" I can't imagine they'd appreciate some random strangers rocking up and attempting to do what they couldn't.

Then again, depending on how important Mo Jianyang's father is, they might be desperate enough to try anything.

"They will," he affirms gravely.

Well then. I suppose getting Zhou Cheng's robes will have to wait a little bit. "I'll fetch Senior Sister," I announced quietly, "She'll want to come along for this."

The Whispering Sea Lodge lived up to its name in a number of ways - it was just a bit down the coast from the city, maybe a few days on foot. We were taking a boat, skimming swiftly across the waves, to hurry our journey along given the urgency of matters.

It looks fairly impressive though, given the 'Lodge' seemed like it was a single, artificial island of sorts, emerging shortly off the coast - just far enough that swimming would be a difficult trial for a mortal.

And certainly gave them plenty of space to enact any kind of water-based defensive formations they liked.

Our little boat pulled in without fanfare, pulled in to dock alongside a number of nearly identical ships, and we fell into step behind Mo Jianyang. There were stares and murmurs of course - I'm sure we made for something of a sight, with Tian Mingfei and Zhou Cheng both flanking Mo Jianyang like they were his new bodyguards whilst I brought up the rear like a new servant.

That, and I'm pretty sure Zhou Cheng was one of the most powerful people on this little island right now.

The Lodge looked like one single construction, made out of slick stone with that looked like some kind of algae or slime in places to add an element of colour. I would've assumed they'd clean that off, personally, but it did give the place a very… 'rose from the sea' kind of vibe. Honestly, my first thought was like, R'lyeh or something but I didn't see any squid imagery.

And if I did see some, I was completely on board with politely excusing ourselves and hightailing it out of there. I do not want to find out if the Great Old Ones are a thing.

That's a question I'm happy to leave unanswered, thank you very much.

The interior of the Lodge is cool, and surprisingly breezy - I'm not entirely sure how the place is built, but it feels like they emphasized a lot of airflow. It does create a sound that sounds eerily similar to indistinct whispering, but it at least keeps everything feeling fairly cool and refreshing in terms of climate.

It may also double as a way to cover up the actual whispering that's going on, but I've already made up my mind not to pay attention to any of that. Mo Jianyang has already begged for our assistance, and we've already agreed to give it. Any consequences of such are his to consider and bear. It's his sect, after all.

No words were exchanged or spoken as we moved - not to us, not from us. People seemed rather intent on just not getting in our way, and watching us with a mix of pity, curiousity and concern.

Even the guards standing outside the room don't say anything, merely stepping to the side the moment Mo Jianyang approaches.

Inside is a richly appointed bedroom - everything from the bed, to the small tables, to the wall scrolls are all incredibly crafted from some of the finest materials money could buy (well, mortal money). The moment we step in, one of the room's two occupants glance up to look at us.

Judging from her bearing and demeanour, I pegged her as a healer. The other person in the room was laid out in the bed, looking like they were knocking on death's door so I was going to go ahead and assume that's Senior Mo.

"Young Master," the woman greets politely but tersely. The look she gives us isn't… disdainful, but she certainly doesn't seem pleased by our presence.

"Senior Lao," he returns, giving her the barest of bows. His gaze flickers over to the still form on the bed. "Is Father…"

She purses her lips. "There has been no improvement. We've done all that can be done."

'All that can be done', huh? Great. Now if we do manage something, she's probably going to be upset we upstaged her. "Senior," I offer quietly, attempting to extend something of an olive branch, "Would you permit me to examine Senior Mo as a favour to the Young Master?"

Her lips pursed further, but after a small moment, she gives me a nod.

First hurdle cleared! I try not to rejoice visibly, given the whole situation, but I can't help but want to pump my fist. Instead, I reach out to very carefully touch two fingers to Senior Mo's forehead, and then two to his stomach to try and get a surface reading of his Qi. I could ask, but I am trying to establish myself as… an expert of sorts.

Which I'm honestly not. I studied some medicine and healing back at the Sect, but like, I'm not a qualified healer, Mo Jianyang! I barely qualify as an apprentice! I-

… Oh what the fuck.

I'm not going to lie. The sensation of what I touch upon is horrifying enough that I nearly recoil in revulsion. It's… I don't think I have words for how wrong it feels. I didn't even know something like this was possible.

I can easily understand why Senior Lao doesn't have much optimism for success here.

"Well, Hei Lian?" Mo Jianyang urges quietly, and oh god I'm going to have to tell him his dad's screwed. This is why I could never be a doctor. The responsibility is too much - not only your patients lives, but also having to tell their family the outcome when things don't work out.

"It's… it's his Qi. It's…" I fumble around blindly in my head for the best way to describe it. "... poisoned, for lack of a better word." Qi is… you take Jing, essence, and refine it into Qi, vitality. Qi is your life. That there exists a method to turn your own life against you is… supremely fucked up. It's like an autoimmune disease, only worse. It'd be like turning someone's blood into poison that still somehow functions as blood.

"Can it be fixed? Purified?" There is such open desperation in Mo Jianyang's voice.

Don't make me crush his hope…! I rack my brain for anything. Any crumb of knowledge, any scrap of something. There has to be a way to resolve it - if someone can inflict something like this on someone else, it stands to reason that there must be a way to reverse it. If you can poison Qi, then you can… medicinalise Qi? Is that word?

Agh, wrong thing to focus on right now, Hei Lian!

Purifying it though… it was worth trying, at least, wasn't it? If your options are death and death, wouldn't you risk it all for a chance at life?

I take a slow, deep breath - and try to draw out a thread of Senior Mo's Qi. I expect it to burn, really. To feel like acid in my veins or something to that effect, but it feels like cool autumn seas.

It feels… fine. But if it's hurting him then…

To confirm my burgeoning hypothesis, I feed him the tiniest drop of my own Qi. He doesn't react visibly, but he doesn't have to. I can feel that little droplet circulating through his meridians.

I can feel the damage it's causing.

"It's not his Qi," I murmur softly, "It's his body." If it was just his Qi… then maybe we could, somehow, empty his meridians and then replace everything. It'd be insane, to be certain, and painful, and probably take years, but you know. It might work.

But it's not that the Qi is poison. It's that the body can no longer tolerate it.

"Even if we could purify the Qi - or replace it, or anything - it'd still kill him. His body can't tolerate any of it."

"Could we replace the body then?" Tian Mingfei pipes up, like that is in any way a reasonable suggestion.

… is it? I flick my gaze over to Senior Lao, who doesn't look particularly optimistic about this particular option, but…

It's… probably possible, isn't it? Cultivators undergo Body Reformation as a natural process, and there are medicines and such capable of regenerating incredible damage or improving natural functions of the body to absurd levels.

I suppose the question isn't 'Does such a thing exist?' but 'Can we obtain it?'

An idea was starting to form in my mind. It was, if nothing else, an absurd gamble, but… I can't believe I'm even thinking something like this, but I think if it's Zhou Cheng, things will tilt in our favour.

That thing with Ao Long was one thing. The Guardian Lions was another. Once is coincidence, twice is enemy action. Three times is confirmation of a pattern. I could assume they're just lucky breaks, but one could also call winning the lottery a 'lucky break', and if you keep winning the lottery… Well. Sooner or later you'd assume someone has their thumb on the scale, right?

The Heavens are real so it stands to reason they must smile on someone. Why not Cheng-ge?

"I think," I begin quietly, "That our best hope at obtaining any medicine capable of… giving Senior Mo an entirely new body," and Heavens above wasn't that sentence, "is going to be at the Auction." I meet Zhou Cheng's eyes, but I really needn't have bothered checking.

"If it's there, then we'll surely obtain it," he declares, practically burning with determination.