Dragon Boat Secret Realm 16: Parasite

The mine shaft was even cruder than Su Qing expected, shallow and unassuming, with a trickle of blue-green viscous liquid seeping from the entrance.

“How deep is this mine?” Su Qing asked. “It doesn’t look deep.”

Chen Minjing explained, “It’s not as deep as it seems—we’ve dug over a hundred meters.”

“A hundred-meter vertical shaft, and the liquid still flows up,” Su Qing marveled. “How much must be stored underground?”

Chen Minjing scooped a ladle for Su Qing. It brimmed with spiritual energy, the liquid glowing faintly metallic, like melted spirit stones.

Su Qing dipped a finger, rubbing it. She couldn’t identify it. If it were spirit ore, Manqing Sword would react, but it didn’t. If a spirit spring, it was too viscous—no such spring existed.

One thing was clear: it was non-toxic. Long-term effects were unknown.

Su Qing decided to collect it for study.

The mine was guarded by six Body Sect disciples. Besides Chen Minjing, the other five were acquaintances from the sect, faces familiar from classes.

The team was short-handed because a Talisman Sect group had requested help opening new mines. With half the team needed for talisman support, only two or three could stay. Against raids, the mine was vulnerable, so they sought reinforcements.

Su Qing’s arrival solved this. The team welcomed her, though Yang Mu grumbled, “Our mine’s big, with plenty of liquid—many eyes on it. We need someone reliable.”

He implied Su Qing’s fourth-layer Qi Refining wasn’t enough.

It was fair—her cultivation was low, and the mine was a prime target. She might not hold it.

Su Qing considered. “If that’s the case, I won’t stay to guard. I’ll help the Talisman Sect open new mines instead.”

Mining was grueling. Su Qing’s offer was a relief. Yang Mu fell silent, and the team agreed.

Chen Minjing said, “I’ll go too.”

The mining team had three: Zheng Xin, Gao Tian, and Chang Zixu. With Chen Minjing joining, Zheng Xin stayed to guard.

The new team was Chen Minjing, Su Qing, and the two others. Both had decent cultivation—Gao Tian at fourth-layer Qi Refining, Chang Zixu at fifth.

Chang Zixu, the strongest and most experienced, nodded. “No objections.”

It was settled.

Privately, Chen Minjing apologized. “They only mentioned manpower shortages, not cultivation requirements. It’s unfair. If you don’t want to go, don’t feel obligated.”

Su Qing waved it off. “It’s nothing.”

She had another doubt. Chen Minjing was cautious and wouldn’t use unverified liquid. “The liquid’s great, but too easy—suspicious. I feel something’s off.”

Opportunities weren’t rare, but this one’s abundance, with mines everywhere and no conflicts, was odd. Plus, if it formed over centuries, why hadn’t previous trial participants mentioned it?

Su Qing remained skeptical.

Chen Minjing pondered. “I thought the same, so I used it to water spiritual plants, not consume it. But many on the island have cultivated with it. Chang Zixu, for example, went from third-layer Qi Refining a year ago to fifth-layer now. He says no side effects, just better affinity with the island’s qi.”

A year without issues suggested safety.

Theory aside, Su Qing wanted to see how it was extracted.

The team said more Talisman Sect disciples had arrived, straining existing mines, so they sought new ones.

Three Talisman Sect members joined: one veteran, Lu Lin, who’d been on the island for half a year, advancing from fifth to sixth-layer Qi Refining using the liquid. The other two were newcomers.

With both groups, they discussed the task.

Three potential sites were identified. They’d scout, confirm viability, then mine.

Scouting was unique: listening.

Su Qing never imagined that. The three new Talisman Sect disciples looked dubious.

Chang Zixu explained, “I don’t know the exact principle, but when we first mined with Danmen, that’s how we did it. The liquid is a form of energy, born from some transformation underground, which makes sound.”

Lu Lin added, “Yes, everyone on the island scouts like this. Louder sounds mean richer, stronger liquid. These three sites have activity. We’ll judge which is strongest.”

With no objections, they proceeded.

Cultivators had keen senses, but detecting sounds a hundred meters underground was tough. They borrowed a “Sound-Threading Wire” artifact.

Infused with spiritual energy, the wire burrowed tens of meters, transmitting sounds back. Lu Lin inserted it, passing the remaining thread around.

“Hold this, and you’ll hear.”

Su Qing gripped a section, curious about the underground sounds. For a quarter-hour, she heard nothing but the group’s breathing and heartbeats.

The depths were silent.

After another quarter-hour, as she tuned into the group’s rhythms, the thread vibrated sharply.

*Thump—!*

Like a boulder dropped into the sea, a deep rumble echoed through her body, syncing with her heartbeat, as if the earth’s depths pulsed with life.

“It’s strong,” Chang Zixu said, pleased. “Plenty of liquid below.”

Lu Lin agreed. “Let’s check the other two before deciding.”

Only then did Su Qing snap out of it, rubbing her arms, chilled.

Chen Minjing, noticing her pallor, asked, “What’s wrong?”

Su Qing shook her head. She couldn’t explain the unease.

Was the island alive?

…

Jiang Xiaocao reached a lush mountain range on Dragon Scale Island, the island’s most verdant spot. Streams babbled, moss carpeted rocks, greenery thrived under thick canopies, brimming with vitality.

As a spiritual plant, he excelled at sensing earth energy. He came not for treasures but to ask the earth for a favor.

He found a spot, closed his eyes, and vanished. His clothes fell, revealing a blade of green grass below.

Blending into the grass sea, it was undetectable. The countless blades swayed in the breeze, all equally ordinary.

He extended his aura deep underground, silently pleading: *Earth Mother, I’ve been humanoid for a century without growing. I want to be taller—just half a palm higher.*

As usual, he probed the earth’s core, but felt no familiar power.

Frowning (if grass could frown), he thought: *Why’s the earth energy so weak here? Even in the secret realm, it shouldn’t be this faint. Is the island dead?*

…

Dragon Scale Island was stranger than Su Qing expected. Though resources sufficed, she chose not to delve deeper. She shared her doubts with Chen Minjing, who agreed but noted many cultivators used the liquid. Chang Zixu had advanced two layers in a year without issues, claiming better island qi affinity.

A year without problems suggested safety.

But suspicion lingered without profit’s allure.

Su Qing didn’t force others to agree. Perhaps the liquid was harmless, or even a free boon.

She stayed at Body Gate’s camp, focusing on body refining and sword practice.

She’d consumed nearly twenty stalks of Nine Heavens Spirit Grass. Each was worth at least a thousand spirit stones outside, requiring connections to obtain. At this rate, she’d eaten twenty thousand spirit stones. Pre-secret realm, this luxury was impossible.

Now, free and priceless, every leaf was profit.

Her body changed subtly. The meridians forcibly widened by the Golden Silk Wood stabilized under the grass’s nourishment, their walls tougher. Though far from Senior Sister Zhu Xu’s thunder-enduring level, she could withstand at least ten lightning strikes now.

Her organs strengthened imperceptibly, undetectable without daily internal checks.

Her sword practice had lagged at sea. With time before the trial, she caught up, refining her techniques for the upcoming assessment.

Three years later—exit from the secret realm—Qin Zhen Senior Sister would test sword qi.

With the deadline looming, she had no sword qi yet.

Reflecting, the issue was her purple qi. When Jiang Xiaocao forged the Manqing Sword, he inscribed a gathering array, storing three bursts of purple qi for powerful strikes.

These bursts rivaled or exceeded sword qi, making her reliant on them, stalling her sword qi development.

Sword qi was the resonance of a sword cultivator’s spiritual energy and sword, manifesting as sword light or airflow—formless yet devastating. Mastering it would add a versatile attack, boosting her combat prowess.

She understood, but forming it was another matter—far more esoteric than sword techniques. She needed practice to grasp the feel.

A sudden event disrupted her routine.

An accident at a new mine.

Chang Zixu’s team hit a parasite during excavation, infecting three members, now unconscious and critical.

Hearing this, Su Qing’s heart skipped—Chen Minjing was on that team!

Rushing to the shelter, she found Sword Sect disciples gathered, faces grave. Chen Minjing, at the scene, was discussing with the group.

Seeing her unharmed, Su Qing exhaled.

The air reeked of blood. Sword Sect lacked medical specialists, but Medicine King Valley had them. Over a dozen students arrived with medical kits.

Yet, when Su Qing arrived, the situation remained unresolved.

She caught Medicine King Valley’s senior brother exiting, shaking his head. “No good. The parasite’s too entrenched—conventional methods won’t work.”

Chen Mu, sweating profusely, asked, “What now? Let Brother Chang die? We should’ve guarded our mine—no trouble then.”

Ling Xiaorui, nearby, caught the blame. Chen Minjing coughed lightly. “It’s unexpected. Focus on saving them.”

The injured were Body Gate’s Chang Zixu, Talisman Gate’s Lu Lin, and Sun Yu. The wounds were small, but the parasite burrowed deep, untouchable.

When Medicine King Valley tried extracting it, the parasite burrowed faster, as if sensing danger.

If it reached the heart meridians or dantian, it was fatal. Left alone, it would drain the host’s blood, flesh, and qi, leaving a desiccated corpse.

The group was stuck. Fortunately, the parasite absorbed slowly, keeping the three alive for now, though prolonged neglect risked root damage and death.

Chen Minjing, subdued but clear-headed, recounted the incident.

Su Qing stepped back, spotting a contradiction no one mentioned.

If the parasite was triggered by blood and entered through wounds, why Chang Zixu and Lu Lin? They had no injuries.

Everyone trained together at Sword Sect—surely they weren’t blind to what she saw.

In a sect like Sword Sect, where Body Gate’s fate affected the whole, she couldn’t ignore it. A few Sword Sect deaths would harm her too.

Waiting, she saw no one speak up. Taking a breath, she asked, “So, the parasite was awakened by blood scent and entered via the wound. But Chang Zixu and Lu Lin had no wounds—why were they infected, while others nearby escaped?”

Her calm, unyielding gaze met theirs. She was uneasy but composed.

Reactions varied: some looked down, avoiding her; some frowned, conflicted; others feigned confusion, hiding clarity.

Su Qing read them all, asking slowly, “Why only them infected, others spared?”

Silence. She pressed, “Chang Zixu and Lu Lin advanced via spirit liquid, while others didn’t use it. That’s the difference.”

No beating around the bush. “The liquid’s problematic. Short-term gain versus long-term life—which matters more? If you’re skeptical or unafraid, keep using it.”

Her calm words cut sharp, paling faces.

Chen Mu, unwilling, argued, “How do you know they used it? Chen Minjing didn’t—her plants aren’t mature yet. Why believe her? Because you’re friends?”

Chen Minjing, shocked at Chen Mu’s words, snapped, “I’m stating facts—you’re twisting it.”

Su Qing eyed Chen Mu coldly. “If you doubt, go to the mine. You call it an accident—surely it won’t happen to you.”

Her stern gaze unnerved him. He shrank, muttering, “Why me? Why not you?”

Su Qing ignored him, addressing the group. “I’ll seal the mine. Anyone who hasn’t used the liquid and wants to help, follow me.”

Faced with action, Chen Mu backed down, lips pursed.

Most stayed put, but a few followed after thought. They didn’t fully agree but knew containing the issue was wise.

By speaking, Su Qing took responsibility.

Sword Sect lacked a central leader like a senior brother or sister, elected annually by students, not based solely on strength, lineage, or seniority.

Typically, a natural leader emerged before formal elections. From noble families, powerful, or well-liked—like second-year Body Gate’s Zhu Xu—they commanded respect.

But Su Qing’s cohort had no such figure. The strongest Daozi had died early, uninterested in affairs, and Tian Ning’s icy demeanor kept others at bay.

Tang Yueling was strong and noble but seemed aloof. Talisman, Array, and Beast Gate talents existed, but overshadowed, lacking broad appeal. Thus, no consensus leader had emerged.

Without one, issues led to fragmented responses, no one taking charge.

Su Qing’s intervention was temporary—her low strength limited her influence—but she couldn’t stand by. Stabilizing this came first.

After sealing the mine with an array, she sent messages to Sword Sect factions, seeking disciples or treasures to save the three.

The messages spread. Some, already suspicious, stopped using the liquid; others paused, watching; a few dismissed her as alarmist, speeding up collection to monopolize it.

One even confronted her, demanding “debate” to prove her wrong—actually a challenge to intimidate. If not for his actions risking the island, Su Qing wouldn’t bother.

Rumors flew, putting Su Qing in a tough spot. Whatever she said or did, she faced doubt, disdain, or hostility.

Chen Minjing worried, feeling Su Qing was dragged in because of her.

“No worries. It’s my choice to meddle,” Su Qing reassured. She wasn’t panicked, saying, “Help’s coming soon. My backup’s arriving.”

Three days later, a frozen path appeared on Dragon Scale Island’s vast sea, splitting waves like Moses parting the waters.

A black-robed woman, sword of ice on her back, walked the icy trail across the sea toward the island.

The breeze lifted her hair. Raising her dark eyes, she said coldly, “We’re here.”