The main hall of the Bai Clan was vast and imposing, polished dark wood reflecting the cool light filtering through high, latticed windows. Pillars carved with swirling cloud motifs supported the heavy ceiling, lending an air of ancient authority. At the head of the hall, seated on a large, intricately carved chair that resembled a throne, was Bai Feng.
Even seated, Bai Yu's father radiated an almost physical pressure. His presence wasn't merely that of a clan patriarch; it was the oppressive aura of a Martial Grandmaster, a subtle weight in the air that demanded respect and obedience. His face, usually stern, seemed etched with a deeper line of concern today, his gaze fixed on Bai Yu as he entered.
Standing beside the Patriarch's seat was an old man Bai Yu didn't recognize. He was clad in robes of deep grey, simpler than the clan elders' attire, yet carrying an air of quiet wisdom. His beard was long and white, his eyes sharp and assessing behind wrinkles earned through decades of study.
Bai Yu walked the length of the hall, the silence broken only by the soft echo of his own footsteps. He stopped a respectful distance away and bowed deeply. "Father. You summoned me."
Bai Feng's voice was deep, resonating slightly in the large space. "Bai Yu." He gestured towards the old man. "This is Lord Wu Mao. He is a renowned Alchemist, visiting Water Court City for the Blossom Gathering. I have asked him to lend his expertise."
An Alchemist? Bai Yu's heart gave a nervous flutter. Alchemists were masters of herbs, minerals, energies, and the body's intricate systems. Perhaps... perhaps Lord Wu Mao could find something the clan healers had missed?
"Lord Wu Mao," Bai Yu bowed again, this time to the visitor.
Wu Mao returned a polite, scholarly nod. "Young Master Bai. Your father has explained your... unique situation regarding Qi cultivation. If you would permit me?" He gestured towards Bai Yu's wrist.
Bai Yu nodded, extending his arm. He braced himself for the familiar disappointment, the confirmation of his own inadequacy.
Lord Wu Mao's fingers, surprisingly cool and steady, pressed gently against Bai Yu's pulse points. He closed his eyes, a faint shimmer of his own Qi—refined and controlled, clearly that of a seasoned cultivator, likely a Martial Master at least in his spiritual sensitivity—flowing into Bai Yu's arm.
Silence stretched. Bai Yu could feel the probing energy moving through him, mapping his meridians. It felt different from the clan healers' attempts, more subtle, yet penetrating deeper. He watched the Alchemist's face. Initially placid concentration shifted to a slight frown, then confusion, then utter disbelief.
Suddenly, Wu Mao's eyes snapped open, wide with shock. He snatched his hand back as if burned.
"This... This is impossible!" The cry echoed sharply in the hall, startling Bai Yu and making even Bai Feng lean forward, his formidable aura flickering with parental anxiety.
"What's wrong?" Bai Feng demanded, his voice tight, losing its usual measured tone. "Is it damage? A blockage beyond repair?" The fear of confirming his son was truly crippled in his cultivation path was palpable.
Wu Mao stared at Bai Yu, then back at his own hand, then at Bai Feng, his breath coming in short gasps. He visibly forced himself to calm, taking a slow, deep breath before speaking, his voice now hushed with awe and trepidation.
"Patriarch Bai... Young Master..." He paused, choosing his words carefully. "Well, this is quite the troublesome matter. Depending on perspective, and indeed on fate itself, it could be an unprecedented blessing... or an absolute disaster."
Bai Yu's mind raced, a whirlwind of fear and a desperate, illogical spark of hope. What? What did he find? Disaster? Blessing? What's wrong with my meridians? The silence felt suffocating as he waited for the explanation.
Wu Mao continued, his gaze fixed intently on Bai Yu. "Young Master, your meridians are not inherently damaged. They are not blocked in the conventional sense, nor are they naturally weak." He leaned slightly closer, lowering his voice further. "They are suppressed. Actively, powerfully suppressed... by the nascent presence of a terrifyingly powerful magical beast Soul."
The words hung in the air, heavy and unbelievable. Bai Feng stared, momentarily speechless. Bai Yu felt a cold dread mixed with utter confusion. A beast soul? Inside him?
Wu Mao saw their shock and quickly elaborated, "I... I have only read of such phenomena in the most ancient, fragmented scriptures. It speaks of exceedingly rare instances when a truly formidable magical creature, perhaps one nearing the end of its lifespan or facing unavoidable destruction, seeks a form of reincarnation. Instead of dispersing, its potent soul-fragment searches for a suitable vessel, a nascent life force with compatible potential, to latch onto."
He looked directly at Bai Yu, his eyes filled with a mixture of wonder and deep concern. "The scripture warned of this. The vessel's own life force and cultivation potential are heavily suppressed, sometimes completely sealed, as the beast soul lies dormant, gathering strength or awaiting a catalyst. The vessel becomes... like a cage, unable to access their own power, while unknowingly nurturing something immense within. This Young Master, is why your Qi feels like water in a sieve – the beast soul passively absorbs or disrupts almost all ambient energy you try to draw in, preventing it from settling in your meridians."
Wu Mao straightened up, his expression grave. "A blessing, if the vessel can somehow awaken, tame, or merge with this power. A disaster, if the beast soul awakens uncontrolled, consuming the host entirely, or if its mere presence attracts catastrophe." He looked from Bai Feng's stunned face to Bai Yu's pale one. "And judging by the sheer potency I sensed... the soul residing within you, Young Master, belonged to no ordinary creature."