Elder Mei Lihua traced the shimmering, translucent green husk with a weathered finger, her expression a careful balance of wonder and academic scrutiny. The relic pulsed with gentle luminescence, its translucent depths swirling like captured mist in a mountain spring. A faint, earthy aroma, akin to fresh moss after a spring rain, wafted from it. She had encountered countless Dao-relics in her long life, but never one that felt so… alive, yet so utterly unadorned by human craft. “A discovery of immense import,” she declared to the assembly of inner sect leaders gathered in the Grand Concordance Hall. The air in the cavernous chamber, usually thick with the scent of aged incense and simmering ambition, now crackled with a different energy. Elder Bo Zhixian, a wizened man with a perpetually skeptical squint, leaned forward, his silver beard almost dipping into the polished jade table. Elder Jin Xuang, known for his obsession with geomancy, tapped a rhythmic beat with his finger, his eyes fixed on the husk. “Indeed, Elder Mei, it radiates the purest Wood Essence I have witnessed in generations. A true Verdant Heart-Stone, perhaps? From where did it emerge?” Elder Bo’s tone betrayed a hint of suspicion, a silent challenge to her claim. Mei Lihua met his gaze without flinching. “It appeared, quite inexplicably, from beneath an ancient pine tree in the outer courtyards. A gift from the Earth Veins, perhaps, in these lean times.” She chose her words carefully, omitting the detail of the young sweeper, Cui Yuchen. His story, she knew, would only complicate matters, and the boy already carried burdens enough. Her explanation was met with murmurs of awe and envy. The Shrouded-Pine Pavilion, despite its grand facade, had seen its spiritual reserves dwindle in recent decades. A genuine Wood-Core Dao-Relic, capable of nourishing foundations and cleansing impurities, was beyond price. Gao Renxue, seated among the junior inner acolytes, kept his handsome gaze pinned on the translucent shell with an intensity bordering on hunger. His stomach still roiled from the golden amber, a discomfort he had convinced himself was a sign of his accelerated cultivation, but the thought of another such ‘purification’ made his mouth water with avarice. The senior council decided, after deliberation, to safeguard the jade shell within the sect’s most secure vault, the Azure-Jade Repository, until the Patriarch could personally examine it. They planned a grand banquet to celebrate its discovery. As the meeting dispersed, Gao Renxue lingered, his eyes tracing the path Elder Mei took as she carried the relic away. Muttered rumors of ‘Verdant Heart-Stone’ and ancient power echoed in his ears, feeding an insatiable craving. Later that night, under the shroud of the new moon, Gao Renxue, using a key he had pilfered years ago from a forgetful custodian, slipped through the shadowed corridors. His movements were swift, practiced. He bypassed ancient wards with cunning ease, his hands trembling only slightly as he approached the main vault. The air within the vault smelled of cold cinnabar and ancient wards. His gaze fell upon the molted rind, nestled on a silken cushion within an unblemished crystal casket. He snatched it, the cold smooth surface a thrill against his palm, and vanished back into the night, a phantom of greed. Unaware of the commotion his cast-off shell had caused, Cui Yuchen moved through the outer flagstones with an unburdened step. The massive Flagstone Square, once a daunting expanse that left him aching and breathless, now felt manageable. Each sweep of his broom, once a laborious drag, was now a fluid motion. His newfound robustness allowed him to clear the scattered pine needles and withered winter blossoms with an almost effortless grace. Zhiyin, perched on his shoulder, trilled a joyful melody, a series of bright, ascending notes that seemed to chase away the morning chill. Yuchen smiled, a genuine, easy smile that reached his eyes. A patch of frost-kissed briar rustled nearby. From its tangle, a pair of sharp, amber eyes tracked Yuchen. It was a small, sleek fox spirit, its fur the color of winter moonlight, a regular observer of the courtyard’s happenings. It had observed Yuchen’s limping stride for months; now, it tilted its triangular head in quiet recognition before vanishing into the hedge. Yuchen paused beside a frost-crusted bench as Zhiyin hummed a steady, low note. Nearby, two sweepers in patched tunics huddled over a brazier, their hushed speech carrying on the cold draft. Yuchen tried not to listen, but their words pierced through his peaceful reverie. “Did you hear? The Verdant Heart-Stone that Elder Mei found is gone! Lifted right from the Azure-Jade Vault last night!” one murmured, glancing nervously over his shoulder. “Gone? Who could slip past the seals?” The second man leaned in close. “Word is Young Master Gao prowled near the storehouse before dawn. He took offense that the senior hall withheld such a find from his training.” The first disciple scoffed. “Of course! He thinks everything is his due. But to steal from the sect vault? What if it brings misfortune?” The blood drained from Yuchen’s face. *Misfortune.* He lunged to his feet, nausea knotting his belly. That cast-off husk still carried the concentrated venom of the Whispering Briar—the very rot he had purged from his marrow. Gao Renxue had stolen the venom. Guilt burned thick in Yuchen’s throat. He had to warn him, had to prevent this terrible mistake. He dropped his broom, ignoring Zhiyin’s confused, questioning hum, and ran. He ran faster than he ever had, his new legs carrying him with a speed that astonished even himself. He raced through the labyrinthine service alleys, visions of blistering sap and Gao Renxue’s sneer flashing before him. Skidding to the ceremonial archway that divided the sweeping grounds from the upper terrace, he slammed flat against the golden ward hummed between the pillars. His knuckles cracked against the solid air. “Gao Renxue! Stop! That thing holds venom, not power!” he cried, his voice cracking against the seal. On the other side, strolling through a manicured garden filled with winter-blooming chrysanthemums, was Gao Renxue. A cluster of fawning peers flanked him, one pointing toward the shouting sweeper. Gao Renxue stopped, a disdainful smirk curling his lips as he recognized Yuchen. He watched the sweeper’s desperate pounding, the wild, urgent cries, and a cruel laugh bubbled up from his chest. “Look at him,” Gao Renxue sneered, raising the translucent rind that glowed pale green against his fingers. “The scullery rat chokes on envy. He saw what the seniors brought in, and he covets it.” He angled the bright object in the morning glare, marveling at its clear veins. “He screams only because he yearns to hold it.” His sycophants chuckled, nodding in unison. “Indeed, Young Master! A sweeper’s frantic wailing proves the relic's unmatched worth!” Gao Renxue’s smirk widened. “Such pathetic envy. I shall grant him the agony of watching.” With a flourish, he flipped the green rind into the air and snapped it into his open mouth, forcing it down his throat in a single gulp. He leveled a victorious grin at Yuchen through the shimmering ward. An instant later, Gao Renxue’s face blanched. His skin, usually a healthy, bronze hue, began to take on a sickly, translucent green pallor, as if the very essence of the husk was seeping through his pores. A gasp tore from his throat, followed by a violent retch. He crumpled to his knees, spitting out a thick, viscous black sludge that reeked of decay and bile onto the pristine white snow. His body convulsed, a wracking cough shaking his frame. His followers rushed forward, their expressions a confused mix of concern and admiration. “Young Master!” one exclaimed, though his voice held an almost reverent awe. “You expel the deepest mortal filth! Such a profound purification! Truly, only a spirit foundation as mighty as yours could endure such a potent cleansing!” The others chorused agreement, their voices thick with deluded praise, as Gao Renxue continued to vomit, his eyes wide and glazed with an agony he could not comprehend, his once perfect skin now a mottled, toxic green.

A Banquet of Fools