Chapter Seventy-Eight: Milk Tea

The process of crafting the Bloodkin Elixir was not particularly complex. With a single glance, Qi Xiao could already discern numerous areas ripe for improvement. Standing on the shoulders of giants, he swiftly developed a vial of crimson elixir. Knowing full well the ingredients of his own concoction, Qi Xiao decided to experiment on himself, pouring a small cup and downing it in one gulp.

A slight burning sensation slid from his throat to his stomach. Qi Xiao noted the feeling and began recording ideas for further refinement. The heat was nothing to him, but for an ordinary person who had suffered years of illness, it would have been like swallowing live embers—potentially lethal. Moreover, after ingestion, the elixir spread directly toward the spine, which, as Xue Ruo confirmed after an examination, was the core of the Blood Thrall lineage. However, in humans, the blood plague tended to accumulate in the lungs and brain, meaning the potion would have little effect when taken this way.

The blood plague corroded both the blood and soul of its victims. Since studying the elixirs the old woman had entrusted to him, Qi Xiao had begun to develop some ideas regarding the treatment of the soul.

...

Lifting his fingers from Xue Ruo’s chest, Qi Xiao watched the faint glow at his fingertips fade. Having obtained the data he wanted, he withdrew his hand, pensively jotting notes on a piece of paper.

Xue Ruo was visibly uncomfortable. He had been sitting here for nearly two hours already, and the young master would call him close from time to time, his hands wandering up and down with no pattern. Xue Ruo dared not resist; he could only tremble in silence.

“You’ve worked hard, Xue Ruo. I’ve finished all my recordings. If I need you again, I’ll let you know. You’re free to go now.”

Qi Xiao’s voice was gentle and pleasant. Instantly, Xue Ruo felt a weight lift from his shoulders and hurriedly replied, “Yes, young master.”

Qi Xiao couldn’t help but smile at Xue Ruo’s panicked state and stopped him just as he was about to leave.

“Don’t go just yet. I’ve prepared this milk tea especially for your taste—give it a try.”

A wisp of wind carried a cup of liquid to Xue Ruo. The drink was red and white, exuding scents of milk and roses. Upon sniffing it, Xue Ruo unconsciously swallowed a mouthful of blood essence. He cradled the cup, glanced at Qi Xiao, and, receiving a nod, closed his eyes and drank.

The first thing Xue Ruo noticed as he tasted the milk tea was an utterly unique fragrance, blending the richness of milk with the delicate aroma of roses, tantalizing his senses. The scent was so distinctive that he could almost imagine its making: select highland goat’s milk slowly heated at a precisely controlled temperature, rose petals drifting down under the caress of wind magic to blend perfectly with the milk.

As the milk tea slid down his throat, Xue Ruo experienced an unprecedented smoothness. It was not merely the flow of liquid, but a magical sensation—as if every drop teemed with vitality, coursing through his body and awakening the instincts of his bloodline, surpassing all the blood he had ever drunk.

With the tea settling in his stomach, Xue Ruo felt a gentle warmth rising within him, a force unlike any energy he had ever known—tender and embracing, instilling a comfort and satisfaction he had never before experienced. The sensation made him relax involuntarily, forgetting his identity and duties, as though he had returned to the safety of his mother’s womb.

“Um... are you alright? Xue Ruo? Xue Ruo?”

Qi Xiao had been watching him with a smile as he drank the special milk tea, taking pride in seeing Xue Ruo’s face suffused with bliss. But soon, Xue Ruo seemed to be completely lost in the experience, the blood energy around him slowly dissipating. Sensing something was amiss, Qi Xiao hurried over and shook him awake.

Crash!

The cup slipped from Xue Ruo’s hand, and the sound of shattering porcelain finally snapped him back to reality. He hurriedly knelt to gather the shards, profusely apologizing as he did so.

“Leave that for now, Xue Ruo. What happened just now? You seemed not yourself.”

Qi Xiao squatted down to meet his gaze seriously. Only then did Xue Ruo realize what he had just experienced.

“I just...” Xue Ruo anxiously recounted every sensation to Qi Xiao, who frowned deeply, pondering his words.

“There’s no way it was just the milk tea... Even though I customized it for the Blood Thrall’s palate, it shouldn’t have this effect. Wait!” Qi Xiao’s thoughts flashed like lightning. The roses he’d used to brew the tea had been stored for a time with the wooden box given to him by Lord Deimos. Though the contact was brief, he was certain it was related.

A flurry of images flashed through Qi Xiao’s mind, but he quickly gathered his thoughts.

“It’s alright, you can go now. I’ll clean up here.”

Qi Xiao planned to analyze the remaining liquid in the cup, so he sent Xue Ruo away.

“As I thought...” With careful testing and observation, Qi Xiao confirmed that the cup still contained a trace of a mysterious aura—so faint it was almost undetectable.

“So the things in that box are actually connected to the mysterious...” It was hard to believe, but considering Lord Deimos’s aura, which was nearly indistinguishable from the mysterious itself, it made sense.

“If it really is related to the mysterious, then I’ll have a perfect excuse for using that one-si Mysterious Aura in my future alchemical experiments!”

More than the contents of the box, this prospect thrilled Qi Xiao. Whatever was in that box, he could always blame any mysterious addition to his alchemy on it. Still, to think even gourmet food could be affected by the mysterious...

Lost in thought, Qi Xiao used the data he had collected to refine a new version of the Blood-Fusion Elixir, preparing to visit Feng in person.

“You’re here! Come on in.” Feng opened the door and, upon seeing Qi Xiao, ushered him in with palpable joy. “My brother is much better after taking that elixir. His appetite is still poor, but at least he can eat now, and even manage to get out of bed.”

He had already brought his younger brother to live with him, and the boy was now upstairs.

“May I see him? Concrete data from my own observations would really help my research.”

“Of course—he’s upstairs.” Feng led Qi Xiao to the staircase, then, at the bedroom door, pressed a finger to his lips and quietly pushed the door open, peeking inside.

The sight amused Qi Xiao. With Feng’s command over wind magic, he could have kicked the door open without making a sound—this caution was born of concern, no doubt.

Qi Xiao mused on this as Feng beckoned him in. Inside, a young boy lay on the bed, eyes turned toward Qi Xiao.

The boy’s delicate skin bore a morbid pallor, as if he were fashioned from the finest porcelain—fragile enough to shatter at a touch. His features held an otherworldly purity; long lashes fluttered gently, each blink revealing his weakness and unease.

Like his brother, his hair was a pale green, rendered somewhat withered in the sunlight and thinned by illness, but still possessing a gentle beauty. His lips were faintly white, yet retained a soft curve, as though he might smile optimistically at any moment.

Despite the illness that bound him, the boy’s gaze was clear, shining with a resilient light—an unyielding desire for life and hope for the future. Though his body was frail, every movement displayed an elegance that made him beautiful even as he lay on his sickbed.