Within Han Tian Yi’s residence, a month passed in silence.
The room remained dim, curtains drawn, incense long extinguished. Han Tian Yi sat before a low table, fingers resting against his temple as if weighing something heavy in his mind.
A faint murmur slipped past his lips.
“So I still have to descend to the mortal realm…”
His gaze lowered to his own body, brows tightening almost imperceptibly. A quiet sigh followed, shallow and restrained, yet laced with irritation.
“This body… truly troublesome.”
Before him, the Human Skin scripture lay open. Its pages were filled with twisted, ominous symbols that seemed to crawl across the parchment. He turned a page slowly. Then another. And another.
With every line his eyes traced, the air around him grew colder. The faint light in his pupils dimmed, replaced by something heavier, more calculating.
His fingers paused on one passage.
“If I dig deeper… there should be clues.”
He lifted his hand and flicked his sleeve casually.
The formation in the room activated without a sound.
From the outside, the chamber looked unchanged. A young master mourning the loss of his wife. Nothing worth a second glance.
Inside, however, was different.
Han Tian Yi’s eyes narrowed slightly.
“I should refine more.”
A faint pause.
“If I fail…”
His gaze slid toward the spatial ring on his finger.
“…I do not have endless Blessed Body Constitutions to waste.”
With a thought, the ring flickered. A cauldron appeared in his palm and descended onto the ground with a dull, controlled thud.
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He raised a finger.
Black spiritual fire ignited instantly.
The flame did not roar. It spread like ink in water, wrapping around the cauldron in a slow, controlled movement. Its heat was stable, precise, following every slightest twitch of his will.
One by one, cultivation resources floated out and dropped into the cauldron.
Everything was carefully inspected and placed.
Herbs dissolved first. Then mineral powders melted into viscous liquid. Essences fused, layer by layer, under the steady burn of the black flame.
Han Tian Yi watched without blinking.
When the fusion reached its peak, he extended his finger and pressed lightly against it. A bead of blood formed, deep red and pure.
It fell.
The moment the drop touched the mixture, the cauldron trembled violently.
Then—
Stillness.
The black flame receded like a tide.
He lifted the lid slightly. A faint medicinal fragrance spread through the room, deceptively gentle.
“Five hundred.”
His voice was soft, almost satisfied.
Corrupted Healing Pills.
The pills rested quietly within, identical in appearance to ordinary healing pills. Smooth. Pure. Harmless to the eye.
Yet his fingers lingered over them for a moment longer.
Anyone consuming them would feel nothing unusual. Their wounds would heal as expected. Their meridians would remain stable. Their cultivation would proceed without obstruction.
Only with time, with repeated use, would the corruption seep deeper. Not in their flesh but within their spiritual sea and soul realm.
Unnoticed.
Until the resonance of his blood awakened within them.
At that point, his Mind-Seizing Spiritual Art would no longer be merely dangerous.
It would be their disaster.
A slow burn spiritual arts that requires patience and meticulous plan.
He retrieved the cauldron back into his spatial ring.
Ancient scriptures he once studied in desperation had led him to this demonic art. He didn't find the cure for his body inside their clan.
But a weapon had.
Han Tian Yi exhaled slowly and turned his head toward the window.
Outside, the sky had already shifted through countless dawns and dusks.
“A month…”
A faint, cold curve formed on his lips.
“Enough time.”
The suspicion surrounding Xiao’er’s death would have faded by now.
---
Back in the present.
After shouting with perfect “righteousness” in public, Han Tian Yi walked toward the Medicinal Hall with steady, unhurried steps.
His expression was calm. His posture relaxed. But a mask of sadness still lingered on his face.
He stopped before a shelf, picking up a bottle and inspecting it under the light. Then another. And another.
To any observer, he looked like a young master carefully selecting pills for cultivation.
His sleeves brushed lightly against the racks.
His fingers moved once.
Twice.
Swift. Precise. Soundless.
The refined pills slipped into the rows of ordinary healing pills, blending perfectly among them without leaving the slightest trace.
Not a single fluctuation escaped.
Not a single servant noticed.
“Looking for something, Young Master?”
An aged voice interrupted from behind.
Han Tian Yi turned smoothly.
Han Xi Rong stood there, hands behind his back, sharp eyes quietly examining him. The elder’s presence was steady and heavy, the aura of a peak Nascent Soul cultivator naturally pressing against the surroundings.
“Oh, Elder Xi Rong.”
Han Tian Yi cupped his hands politely, expression composed and respectful.
“I am preparing for closed cultivation. I was wondering if there are pills that could assist me in reaching the peak of Foundation Establishment in one attempt.”
The elder’s brows lifted slightly.
“Closed cultivation straight to the peak?”
A soft chuckle escaped him.
“The younger generation truly has confidence these days.”
He studied Han Tian Yi for a brief moment before turning.
“Follow me.”
They moved deeper into the hall, past the common shelves and into a restricted section. Several rare pill bottles were selected and handed over without ceremony.
To normal clansman, to have this pills they need contribution points. However, Han Tian Yi was the eldest son of the current Han Clan patriarch.
Han Tian Yi accepted them with both hands and bowed before leaving.
Han Xi Rong watched his departing figure.
His eyes narrowed faintly.
“That boy…”
A quiet pause.
“In the past, he would have barked orders and demanded everything outright.”
He shook his head with a small smile.
“It seems that Xiao’er truly made that brat righteous.”
