Chapter 18: The Poison in the Blood

Liang Yue stared at the image, her mind refusing to process what she was seeing. The cross-section of Grandma's liver was marred by tiny crystalline structures, like shards of glass embedded in the tissue.

"What am I looking at?" she asked, her voice hollow.

"Qi crystallization," Professor Li said. "In twenty years of research, I've only seen it once before. In a failed alchemist who tried to force a breakthrough with experimental pills."

"That's impossible. Grandma was the most careful alchemist I've ever known. She never took shortcuts."

"She didn't take them willingly." He pulled out another photo—this one of Grandma's stomach lining. "The poison wasn't ingested. It was absorbed through the skin over months. Someone was dosing her without her knowledge."

Liang Yue's hands clenched into fists. "Who?"

"I don't have a name. But I know how they did it." He pointed to a chemical analysis report. "The toxin was suspended in a common hand cream. One that your grandmother used daily. The brand was manufactured by a subsidiary of Zhang Holdings."

The world narrowed to a pinprick. Zhang Holdings. The same corporation that funded half the university's research. The same family that had been circling her since Grandma's funeral.

"They killed her with face cream," Liang Yue whispered. The absurdity of it made her want to laugh, or scream, or both.

"Slowly. Methodically. Over six months." Professor Li's voice cracked. "I didn't catch it until it was too late. By the time I found the residue, the damage was done."

"Why didn't she notice? Grandma was an alchemist—she could detect poisons at a molecular level."

"Because the toxin was designed by alchemists. The Zhang family has been collecting fragments of Internal Alchemy theory for decades. They've never been able to recreate the full furnace method, but they've learned enough to create a poison that mimics natural Qi decay."

Liang Yue's mind raced. If the Zhang family had alchemist-trained scientists, they could have been monitoring Grandma for years. Watching her. Waiting for the right moment to strike.

"Does Chen Wei know about this?" she asked.

"Chen Wei? The heir?" Professor Li's eyebrows rose. "I don't know. The Zhang family is large, and internal politics are complicated. But if I were you, I wouldn't trust anyone with that surname."

"He saved my life. Twice."

"He's also the grandson of Zhang Mingliang, the family patriarch. The same man who personally funded the artificial Qi research for the past decade." Professor Li's eyes were tired. "I'm not saying Chen Wei is involved. I'm saying you need to be careful. Blood runs thicker than water, and in families like the Zhangs, loyalty is bought and sold like stocks."

Liang Yue wanted to argue, but the words died in her throat. She thought of Chen Wei's easy smile, his quick wit, the way he'd stepped in front of a bullet for her. But she also remembered how he'd hesitated when she'd asked about his family's business. How he'd changed the subject whenever she mentioned the Zhang family's expansion into pharmaceutical research.

"I need to see Grandma's body," she said finally. "Properly. Not through photos."

Professor Li nodded slowly. "I was afraid you'd say that." He pulled out a key card from his desk drawer. "The morgue is in the basement of the medical school. Level B2, room 107. But Liang Yue—"

"What?"

"Someone's been watching the building. I've noticed a black sedan parked on the street corner for the past three nights. Same car, different license plates every time."

"The Zhang family."

"Most likely. They know I was close to your grandmother. They probably suspect I have evidence." He pressed the key card into her hand. "If you're going to do this, do it tonight. The security rotation changes at midnight. You'll have a fifteen-minute window."

"And then what?"

"And then you'll have to decide what to do with the truth." His voice was heavy. "Because once you know for certain, you can't un-know it. And the Zhang family won't let you walk away quietly."

Liang Yue pocketed the key card. Her fingers brushed against the furnace, which pulsed warmly in response. Grandma's voice echoed in her memory: *The Way is not a path of comfort. It is a path of truth, no matter how painful.*

"I'm not walking away," she said.

---

The basement of the medical school was everything she'd expected and worse. Fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting everything in a sickly green pallor. The air smelled of disinfectant and something else—something metallic and wrong.

Room 107 was at the end of a long corridor, past storage closets and abandoned offices. The door was unmarked, but the electronic lock clicked open when she swiped the key card.

Inside, the room was small and clinical. A single examination table dominated the center, covered by a white sheet. Racks of chemicals lined the walls. A ventilation system hummed quietly overhead.

Liang Yue's hands trembled as she approached the table. She'd seen Grandma's face at the funeral—peaceful, waxen, not quite real. But that had been a closed casket. The undertaker had said something about preserving dignity in death.

Now she understood why.

She pulled back the sheet.

Grandma's face was the same—the same gentle features, the same silver hair. But her skin had an unnatural pallor, almost grey. And when Liang Yue lifted one of Grandma's hands, she saw the truth.

Tiny crystalline deposits had formed under the nails, at the cuticles, along the veins. The poison hadn't just damaged Grandma's organs. It had transformed her body into something else—a vessel for artificial Qi that had nowhere to go.

"Grandma," Liang Yue whispered. "I'm so sorry."

The furnace pulsed angrily in her dantian, as if recognizing the contamination. Liang Yue closed her eyes and reached out with her Qi sense, trying to understand the poison's structure.

What she found made her stomach turn.

The artificial Qi wasn't just a toxin. It was a seed. A carefully designed catalyst that, once inside a living body, would begin converting natural Qi into something else. Something that could be harvested.

Grandma hadn't just been killed. She'd been used.

Liang Yue's eyes snapped open. "They were trying to extract her alchemy."

The words hung in the air, impossible and undeniable. The Zhang family hadn't just wanted Grandma dead. They'd wanted her knowledge. Her power. The furnace's secrets.

And they'd been willing to turn her into a battery to get it.

A sound from the hallway. Footsteps, light and deliberate.

Liang Yue's hand went to the concealed pouch at her waist—a dozen pills she'd refined over the past two weeks, each designed for a specific purpose. Smoke bombs. Tranquilizers. Something stronger, if needed.

The door creaked open.

"Miss Liang." The voice was smooth, cultured, with a faint accent she couldn't place. "I was hoping to find you here."

The man who stepped into the room was tall and elegant, dressed in a tailored black suit. His face was ageless—somewhere between forty and sixty—and his eyes were the color of rusted iron.

"Who are you?" Liang Yue demanded.

"My name is Zhang Weimin." He smiled, showing perfect teeth. "I'm the head of Zhang Holdings' Special Projects Division. And I've been looking forward to meeting you for quite some time."

"The man who killed my grandmother."

"Killed?" He raised an eyebrow. "No, no. We merely accelerated the natural process. Your grandmother was eighty-three years old. She'd already lived past her usefulness."

Liang Yue's vision went red. "She was worth a thousand of you."

"Perhaps. But she was also stubborn. Refused to share her knowledge. Refused to help us advance human civilization." He took a step closer, and Liang Yue's hand tightened around a smoke bomb. "You, however, have potential. Your generation understands that progress requires sacrifice."

"I'll never help you."

"You already have." He pulled out a small device from his pocket—a black box with a single blinking light. "Every time you've refined a pill in your dorm room, your furnace has been broadcasting its frequency. We've been recording everything."

The world stopped.

"What?"

"Did you really think the last Internal Alchemist could hide forever?" Zhang Weimin's smile widened. "We've been tracking the furnace's signature for eight centuries. Every wielder. Every location. Every technique you've used, we've recorded and analyzed."

The furnace in her dantian went cold.

"Your grandmother knew, of course. That's why she never refined anything stronger than basic healing pills after she retired. But you, Miss Liang—you've been so generous with your knowledge." He gestured to the black box. "The purification pill. The Qi acceleration formula. The precursor to the legendary Golden Elixir."

Liang Yue's mind raced. If Zhang Holdings had been recording her furnace's frequency, they'd have access to every technique she'd used. Including the ones Grandma had passed down through generations.

"You're lying. The furnace encrypts its output. Only the wielder can decode it."

"Normally, yes." He tapped the box. "But we've had eight decades to study your grandmother's neural patterns. We've mapped every quantum fluctuation in her Qi signature. And since the furnace recognizes her bloodline, we've been able to piggyback on your transmissions."

Eighty years. They'd been planning this for eighty years.

"You killed her to get the furnace."

"We killed her because she was in the way." His voice hardened. "She refused to help us create artificial Qi. She refused to share the furnace's secrets. She stole her own granddaughter from our recruitment programs and hid you in a normal school."

"Stole me?"

"Your parents were Zhang Holdings employees. When you were born, the furnace chose you as its next wielder. Under family law, you belonged to us." His eyes glinted. "Your grandmother kidnapped you when you were six months old. Changed your name. Erased your records. Made you forget."

Liang Yue's legs felt weak. She remembered her parents—vaguely, in fragments. A woman with kind eyes. A man who smelled of cigarettes and sandalwood. They'd died in a car accident when she was three. Or so Grandma had said.

"Your parents didn't die in an accident," Zhang Weimin said, as if reading her thoughts. "They died trying to find you. They spent three years searching, and when they finally got close, your grandmother had them killed."

"No."

"She hired a driver. A drunk with a truck. Made it look like an accident." He tilted his head. "Did she tell you she loved you? Did she hold you close and promise to protect you?"

Liang Yue's hands were shaking. The smoke bomb fell from her fingers, rolling across the floor.

"Everything she told you was a lie, Miss Liang. Your grandmother was not a saint. She was a thief. A murderer. A woman who destroyed her own family to keep the furnace's power for herself."

"You're lying."

"Am I?" He pulled out a phone, tapping the screen. A photo appeared—a younger Grandma, standing next to a man and woman. The man had Liang Yue's eyes. The woman had her smile.

The photo was dated twenty-one years ago. Three years before the "accident."

"That was taken at your first birthday party," Zhang Weimin said softly. "Your grandmother was already planning their deaths. She'd been planning it since the day you were born."

The furnace pulsed, and Liang Yue felt something crack inside her chest.