Chapter 11: The Blood Debt of Mount Qingcheng

Liang Yue stared at the image. The chemical marker had turned Grandma's liver cells a sickly green—the color of decay, of something unnatural. She'd seen enough histology slides in her pharmacy courses to know what healthy tissue looked like. This wasn't it.

"What am I looking at?" she asked, though a cold certainty was already settling in her chest.

"Bismuth subgallate. Combined with a synthetic compound I've never seen before." Professor Li pointed to a cluster of dark spots on the scan. "These aren't natural metabolic byproducts. They're crystalline formations. The toxin was designed to accumulate over months, gradually disrupting cellular respiration until—"

"Until her heart stopped." Liang Yue's voice came out flat, robotic. She'd learned this in pharmacology too. The difference between acute poisoning and chronic accumulation. Grandma hadn't been killed in a single moment. She'd been killed slowly, methodically, over half a year.

"Six months," Professor Li confirmed, as if reading her thoughts. "The half-life of the compound suggests initial exposure around New Year's."

New Year's. Liang Yue's mind raced back. Grandma had been fine at New Year's. They'd made tangyuan together, the sweet rice balls filled with black sesame paste. Grandma had laughed at Liang Yue's clumsy wrapping, had shown her how to pinch the dough just so—

"The furnace," she said suddenly. "They were trying to get to the furnace. If they poisoned her slowly, they must have been watching her, waiting for her to give it up."

"Or waiting for her to die naturally so they could search her house without suspicion." Professor Li's jaw tightened. "But she outsmarted them. She gave it to you before the toxin could finish its work."

Liang Yue's hand went to her dantian instinctively. The furnace pulsed there, warm and alive, like a second heart. *Don't let them twist the Way.* Grandma's last words made terrible sense now.

"I need to see her," Liang Yue said. "The body. I need to—"

"Absolutely not." Professor Li's voice was sharp. "If anyone sees you there, if anyone connects you to her death—"

"I don't care." Liang Yue stood up, her chair scraping against the floor. "She's my grandmother. She raised me. She died because she was protecting this—" She pressed her hand against her abdomen. "And I've been sitting in my dorm room refining pills like nothing happened."

"Liang Yue—"

"She taught me everything, Professor Li. Everything except what was really happening." Her voice cracked. "And now I have to figure it out alone."

"You're not alone." He stood too, moving around the desk. "I've been protecting her research for three decades. I'm not about to stop now."

"Then take me to the morgue."

He studied her for a long moment, his tired eyes searching hers. Whatever he saw there made him nod slowly.

"Tonight. After midnight. The night shift guard is a friend."

---

The university morgue was in the basement of the medical school, three floors below ground. The corridors were empty at 12:30 AM, the fluorescent lights humming with a sickly buzz. Liang Yue followed Professor Li through a maze of hallways, her sneakers squeaking on the linoleum.

"Why midnight?" she asked, keeping her voice low.

"Fewer cameras. Fewer questions." He stopped at a steel door, punched in a code. "And the morgue attendant owes me a favor."

The door swung open into a cold room that smelled of formaldehyde and bleach. Steel tables lined the walls, most of them empty. But one, near the back, held a sheet-covered figure.

Liang Yue's breath caught.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Professor Li asked softly.

She didn't answer. She walked forward, her legs moving on their own, until she stood beside the table. Her hand reached out, trembling, and pulled back the sheet.

Grandma looked... peaceful. That was the worst part. Her skin was waxy, her lips slightly blue, but her face was relaxed, almost smiling. Like she'd simply fallen asleep.

But Liang Yue knew better now.

She pulled out the small brass pill furnace she'd brought—not the true furnace in her dantian, but a decoy she'd refined from copper and her own Qi. It was crude, barely functional, but it had one property that mattered: it could detect Qi residue.

She pressed the furnace against Grandma's chest, right over the heart.

For a moment, nothing.

Then the furnace began to glow—a sickly green light that pulsed in rhythm with Liang Yue's own heartbeat.

"What does that mean?" Professor Li asked, leaning closer.

"It means there's still Qi residue in her body. The poison wasn't just chemical. It was alchemical." Liang Yue's voice was hollow. "They used a pill. A modified version of the Dispersing Breath Pill."

"The one you told me about? That purges spiritual energy?"

"A corrupted version." She pulled the furnace away, but the green light lingered in the air for a moment before fading. "The original pill helps cultivators expel impurities. This one was designed to do the opposite—to bind Qi to the cells and prevent the body from healing itself."

"Making her death look natural while slowly suffocating her spiritual core."

"Yes." Liang Yue's hands clenched into fists. "Only an Internal Alchemist could have made this pill. Someone who knew the original formula."

Professor Li's face went pale. "You think there's another alchemist? Working for the Zhang family?"

"I think there's a traitor." Liang Yue turned to face him, her eyes hard. "Grandma was the last Internal Alchemist. That's what she always told me. But someone else knows the recipes. Someone else has been practicing the Way."

"But if there's another alchemist, why did they need Grandma's furnace?"

"Because the furnace isn't just a tool. It's a key." She looked down at Grandma's face, memorizing every line, every wrinkle. "The true furnace stores not just Qi, but knowledge. Generations of alchemical secrets, passed down through bloodlines. Whoever made this poison pill had partial knowledge. But they need the furnace to access the complete records."

"Which means they need you."

"They need me alive," Liang Yue corrected. "At least until they can extract the furnace's knowledge."

She reached out and touched Grandma's cheek. The skin was cold, stiff. But beneath it, she could feel something else—a faint warmth, like embers dying in a hearth.

Grandma's Qi. Fading, but not gone.

"I can save her," Liang Yue whispered.

"What?"

"Her Qi is still there. Faint, but present. If I can refine it, purify it, I might be able to—"

"Liang Yue, she's dead. Her body has been dead for three weeks."

"No. Her body is dead. But her spirit—" She pressed both hands against Grandma's chest, closing her eyes. "In Internal Alchemy, death isn't the end. It's a transition. If I can gather her remaining Qi, I can preserve it. Keep it safe until I find a way to—"

"To what? Bring her back?" Professor Li's voice was sharp with concern. "That's not alchemy. That's necromancy."

"It's the Way." Liang Yue opened her eyes. "The Way is transformation. Change. Grandma always said that matter and spirit are the same thing, just vibrating at different frequencies. If I can learn to shift that frequency..."

"This is dangerous. You're talking about crossing lines that alchemists have warned against for centuries."

"I know." She looked at Grandma's face one last time, then pulled the sheet back over it. "But I'm not going to let her die for nothing."

She placed the decoy furnace on Grandma's chest, right over the heart. Then she began to chant—soft, ancient syllables that Grandma had taught her in whispers, late at night, when the world was sleeping.

*The fire refines. The water cleanses. The spirit rises from the mud.*

The furnace began to glow again, but this time the light was golden, warm. It spread from the furnace to Grandma's body, tracing the lines of her veins, her arteries, her meridians. The green Qi residue began to burn away, dissolving into nothing.

And beneath it, something stirred.

A spark. Tiny, fragile, but undeniably present.

Liang Yue grabbed it with her own Qi, pulling it into the furnace, cradling it like a newborn flame.

"Got you," she breathed.

"Liang Yue!" Professor Li's voice was urgent now. "We need to go. Someone's coming."

She looked up. Through the morgue's frosted glass door, she could see shadows moving. Multiple figures. And the green glow of Qi—not pure like hers, but tainted, artificial.

The Zhang family's men.

"Go," she said, shoving the furnace into her bag. "Now."

But as they reached the door, it burst open.

A man stood in the doorway. Tall, sharp-featured, with eyes that burned like cold fire. He wore a suit that cost more than Liang Yue's entire year's tuition, and his Qi reeked of chemicals and synthetic power.

"Miss Liang," he said, his voice smooth as silk. "We've been looking for you."

Behind him, four more figures emerged from the shadows. Their eyes glowed green.

Professor Li stepped in front of her. "Zhang Wei. I should have known."

"Professor Li." The man's smile was razor-thin. "Still meddling in matters you don't understand. I thought you'd learned your lesson after the last time."

"Last time?" Liang Yue's voice was ice.

"Your grandmother's first warning," Zhang Wei said. "A car accident that nearly killed him. We thought he'd take the hint."

Liang Yue's vision went red.

*You.* The word burned in her throat. *You tried to kill him too.*

"We're done talking." Zhang Wei raised his hand, and the four figures behind him surged forward.

Liang Yue didn't think. She reached into her bag, pulled out a handful of pills—the ones she'd refined in her dorm room, the ones she'd made from Grandma's recipes.

She crushed them in her palm.

The powder ignited, filling the corridor with blinding white light and the scent of sandalwood. The figures recoiled, their artificial Qi flickering.

"Run!" Liang Yue grabbed Professor Li's arm and pulled him through a side door.

They burst into the stairwell, taking the steps two at a time. Above them, they could hear shouts, footsteps, the crackle of corrupted Qi.

"Where are we going?" Professor Li gasped.

"The roof." Liang Yue's mind was racing. "I have a plan."

"A plan? What plan?"

She didn't answer. She just ran.

Up and up, past the ground floor, past the second, the third. The roof door was locked, but Liang Yue pressed her hand against it, channeling her Qi into the lock mechanism. It clicked open.

They burst out onto the rooftop. The night air was cold, the city lights glittering below them.

"Now what?" Professor Li asked.

Liang Yue turned to face the door. The stairwell was filling with green light.

"Now," she said, pulling out the decoy furnace, "we see if Grandma's teachings were right."

She threw the furnace onto the ground. It cracked open, spilling golden light across the rooftop.

And then she waited.

Zhang Wei emerged first, his green eyes gleaming. "A brave attempt, Miss Liang. But futile."

"You want the furnace?" Liang Yue pointed at the broken decoy.