Chapter 88: The Soul-Devouring Plague

“The patients? Have any been brought back to the sect?”

Shen Zhaoqing’s thoughts were abruptly pulled back. Her expression was grave, unlike anything seen before.

Her autumn-water eyes, usually brimming with gentle smiles, were now sharp as blades.

“Yes, yes, they’re… they’re in the Calm Heart Hall of the Medicine Hall, already isolated! Uncle-Master Wang and the others have tried everything, but… but it’s no use…”

The outer disciple’s voice was laced with despair.

Bai Zhileng said no more. She turned and instructed the maidservants behind her,

“Watch over Junior Sister Zhaoqing. Do not allow her to leave the courtyard for even half a step.”

Her figure flickered, transforming into a white streak that vanished instantly into the sky, heading directly towards the Medicine Hall.

In the courtyard, only the stunned outer disciple remained, along with several equally pale Penglai maidservants, and Shen Zhaoqing, who lay in her chair, her face looking worse than anyone’s.

The maidservants, ever diligent, surrounded her.

“Junior Sister Zhaoqing, the Holy Maiden commanded that you must not go out.”

“That’s right, it’s so dangerous outside, and your body is weak. What if you were to contract the plague?”

Shen Zhaoqing looked at their faces, each etched with ‘concern,’ and inwardly sneered.

‘Indeed, they’re afraid I’ll get infected.’

‘After all, infected medicinal ingredients would have their efficacy greatly diminished.’

She didn’t waste words with the maidservants. Instead, she slowly sat up from the lounge chair, her gaze fixed on the direction of the Medicine Hall, her eyes dark and unreadable.

She knew that Bai Zhileng’s opportunity had arrived.

A catastrophe sweeping across Qingzhou, one that even the Qingyun Sect found itself powerless against, was nothing short of a divine, perfect stage for the Holy Maiden of Penglai, who wore the mask of “saving the dying and aiding the injured.”

In this disaster, she would play the sole “savior.”

And her bargaining chip for salvation was Shen Zhaoqing herself.

****

Calm Heart Hall.

Once a tranquil place for Qingyun Sect disciples to meditate, comprehend the Dao, and calm their minds, it was now enveloped by a heavy stillness and despair.

Inside the main hall, dozens of temporary beds had been set up, occupied by the first batch of disciples returned, all in the most critical condition.

Shen Zhaoqing had come, after all.

She hadn’t resorted to any clever tricks. She had simply said one sentence to the Penglai maidservants guarding her:

“Senior Sister Bai has gone to save people. As a Qingyun disciple, how can I hide here with a clear conscience? If you insist on stopping me, I might become agitated and fall ill. When Senior Sister Bai returns, I will personally inform her that you obstructed me from contributing my efforts to our fellow disciples.”

Her words were spoken with righteous indignation, brimming with integrity.

The maidservants exchanged glances. Their orders were to “watch over” her, not to use force.

This Junior Sister Shen was the future “main medicine,” incredibly precious. If she suffered even a slight bump or bruise, they would be held accountable. After weighing their options, they reluctantly followed her all the way to the Medicine Hall.

Upon entering the Calm Heart Hall, an invisible, chillingly sticky aura washed over them, causing an immediate discomfort in their Divine Souls.

A piercing coldness suddenly emanated from the Illusion-Shattering Demonic Eye on Shen Zhaoqing’s chest, instantly sobering her. She instinctively activated the Clear Heart Spirit Guiding Art to protect her mind, her gaze sweeping across the hall.

The hall was crowded with worried Qingyun disciples and elders from the Medicine Hall. Gu Chang’an was not present; she was likely at the foot of the mountain, overseeing the situation and managing the overall affairs.

All their faces were etched with solemnity and helplessness.

However, the sight on the dozens of beds made Shen Zhaoqing’s pupils contract sharply.

The senior and junior disciples lying there had wide-open eyes, yet their gazes were as hollow as two bottomless dry wells, devoid of any light. Their chests still rose and fell faintly, proving they were alive, but their faces were utterly expressionless, like exquisitely crafted puppets.

Their spiritual power had completely dissipated, their dantian utterly lifeless.

But the most terrifying aspect was the sensation they exuded.

A feeling of “emptiness.”

It was as if their bodies were mere abandoned shells, their souls long since gnawed away to nothing by some unknown entity.

“It’s useless, all useless…” A white-haired elder from the Medicine Hall suddenly let go of a disciple. He stooped, his face ashen with defeat.

“I have practiced medicine for three hundred years, and I have never encountered such a bizarre illness. The Divine Soul withers, and medicine is ineffective… This is not an illness at all; it’s a curse! A heavenly condemnation!”

An atmosphere of despair permeated the hall.

Just then, Bai Zhileng arrived. Everyone’s gaze instantly fixated on her, as if a drowning person had spotted their last piece of driftwood.

“Holy Maiden Bai!”

“Holy Maiden, please, quickly see if these disciples can still be saved!”

Bai Zhileng nodded slightly to the crowd, then walked with a solemn expression to the nearest bed.

Shen Zhaoqing stood at the edge of the crowd, observing coldly.

She watched as Bai Zhileng extended two jade-like fingers to rest on a disciple’s wrist, closing her eyes in concentration. After a moment, she took out a silver needle and gently pricked the disciple’s glabella.

The silver needle entered the body, yet there was no reaction whatsoever.

Bai Zhileng then lifted the disciple’s eyelids, carefully observing his hollow pupils.

Shen Zhaoqing clenched her fists within her sleeves, the demonic eye on her chest sending wave after wave of chilling sensations.

To others, Bai Zhileng was a living Bodhisattva, a savior of suffering. Yet, in Shen Zhaoqing’s perception, though the Holy Maiden’s face also bore solemnity and compassion, deep within that compassion lurked an excitement and fervor, like a hunter discovering rare prey.

Finally, Bai Zhileng withdrew her hand.

She straightened up, sweeping her gaze across all the expectant eyes in the hall, and uttered three words in an incredibly heavy tone.

“Soul-Devouring Plague.”

“Soul-Devouring Plague…”

An elder trembled as he asked, “Is it the forbidden demonic plague recorded in ancient demonic texts, spread by demonic gods from the Nine Netherworlds, specifically created to annihilate the souls of cultivators?”

Bai Zhileng nodded.

“Precisely.”

Her voice was clear and cold, echoing through every corner of the hall. “This plague specifically harms a cultivator’s Divine Soul, feeding on their spiritual power. Once contracted, the Divine Soul will be like a flickering candle in the wind, completely devoured by the plague within seven days, ultimately scattering and leaving behind only an empty shell.”

She paused, her gaze sweeping over the faces that had instantly turned deathly pale.

“According to our ancient Penglai texts, this plague… has no cure.”

****

The world seemed to lose all sound in an instant.

The Qingyun Sect disciples and elders, who had held onto their last sliver of hope just a second ago, watched as the color drained from their faces at a visible rate, becoming as pale as the living dead on the beds.

“…No cure?”

A young inner disciple murmured distractedly, his legs giving out as he collapsed onto the ground.

His best senior brother lay on the bed closest to him, eyes wide open, staring emptily at the carved beams and painted rafters of the hall ceiling, gazing at a world he could never reach.

“…This, how can this be…”

“An ancient demonic plague… Is Heaven truly determined to destroy our Qingyun Sect?!”

“Where is the Sect Master! Where is the Sect Master?!”

The deadly silence shattered, replaced by an even more overwhelming and desperate panic than before. Cries, accusations, and shouts of collapse intertwined, transforming this supposedly tranquil hall into a mortal battlefield.