Chapter 24: Blood-Stained Vein Needle

A hundred yards away from the Green Bamboo Pavilion, in a dense forest, more than a dozen disciples of the Tianji Mu family were gathered together.

"Brother Kaishan, do you think that man named Lin Shan really has the ability to forge the Pulse Needle and help our family survive this crisis?" one of the young disciples, barely in his teens, asked the Mu family’s young master, Mu Kaishan.

"It's hard to say. Let's just wait and see," Mu Kaishan replied, his expression grave.

"Brother Kaihe, if the matter of Miss Mu’s pulse pain becomes known to the imperial Mu family in the capital, will they blame us? Will we be in grave danger?" another young girl, dressed in light armor, asked anxiously.

"Blame is inevitable. As for whether we’ll face disaster, that depends on our luck," Mu Kaihe replied with a bitter smile, clearly holding out no hope for mercy from the imperial branch.

Not far from this group, Ding Wanshan and his disciple Mi Xinjian were also watching the Green Bamboo Pavilion from a distance.

"Master, after the humiliation of having my sword broken, I beg you to stand up for your disciple and seek justice for me!" Mi Xinjian pleaded in a low voice, tears glistening in his eyes. The matter of his sword, broken by Mu Qiaoxue’s maid Mu Yun’er, had already spread throughout the entire Tianji Mu family, and Mi Xinjian could not even lift his head in shame.

"Hmph! Mu Yun'er! Just because she is Miss Mu’s personal maid, and followed her here from the imperial capital, she thinks she can do as she pleases? She dares not even give me, Ding Wanchong, the slightest respect?" Ding Wanchong clenched his fists tightly. His disciple’s sword, broken by Mu Yun’er, was a slap in his own face as a master. Moreover, just moments ago at the pavilion’s entrance, Mu Yun’er had bluntly told him to leave, a clear sign of her utter disregard.

"Master, do you think that Lin fellow will succeed?" Mi Xinjian asked.

"Hmph! He said he needed an hour. Now, an hour has already passed, and then some—if he were going to succeed, he would have done so by now. It shouldn’t take until the last moment," Ding Wanchong muttered.

"Well, I hope he fails! Then we’ll have a good show to watch!" Mi Xinjian said.

"Watch your tongue!" Ding Wanchong shot him a fierce glare. If anyone overheard such words and reported them to the disciplinary hall, having one’s tongue torn out would not be too severe a punishment.

Thinking of Mu Qiaoxue’s suffering, Ding Wanchong’s heart was in turmoil. Only he knew the depth of his affection for her. Every time he trained to exhaustion, it was thoughts of her smile and demeanor that kept him going. Only by becoming stronger, ever stronger, could he hope to express the love buried in his heart, and perhaps win her affections.

Now, with Lin Shan working his mysterious craft, Ding Wanchong’s hopes for his success were perhaps three parts genuine, but the other seven parts were that he would fail!

Firstly, if Lin Shan succeeded in forging another Pulse Needle, with six in total, Mu Qiaoxue’s pain could be completely suppressed. She might no longer remain confined to the Mu family, and might even travel or return to the imperial capital, ten thousand miles away.

If that happened, his hopes would be completely dashed.

Secondly, after having previously clashed with Lin Shan, if the latter succeeded, it would not only make Ding Wanchong lose face but paint him as a villain who nearly ruined an important matter for Mu Qiaoxue. His image in her eyes would fall drastically.

"Lin Shan, fail! You will not succeed, you must fail!" Ding Wanchong dared not let Mi Xinjian say such things aloud, but he shouted them internally with all his might.

...

A hundred yards away stood the Green Bamboo Pavilion.

Chu Feng was still pacing rapidly in circles as time slipped by, minute after minute.

The agreed time was one hour, and now, seven of the eight quarter-hours had already passed.

When the hour was up, the Mu family would not grant Chu Feng any more time. Every moment of delay was another moment Mu Qiaoxue had to endure the agony of her pulse!

Sweat poured from Chu Feng’s face like rain—not from exertion, but from the anxiety twisting in his gut.

Just now, as the seventh quarter-hour ended, Chu Feng checked his storage pouch again. Strangely, its artifact-forging function had not failed; the gold and silver ingots, battle-shadow iron, and the metallic pellets for hidden weapons had all increased a little.

But the lone golden Pulse Needle remained there, solitary as ever.

"An hour is almost up, and I still haven’t managed to create a second Pulse Needle. What am I to do?" Chu Feng was consumed by anxiety, his mind in chaos.

"Master Lin Shan, is it not ready yet?" Mu Yun’er’s anxious voice called from the inner room.

This was the fourth time she had urged him, each time more urgent, just short of openly asking—can you make the Pulse Needle or not? If not, hand over the one you have!

Pressed by her question, Chu Feng's mind raced. "Sister Mu, let me try one final time! This time, it will be quick! When the hour is up, I will not delay any further!"

"Hurry, please! Miss Mu is in great pain!" Mu Yun’er’s voice was sharp with distress.

Chu Feng said nothing more. He immediately stopped pacing and dumped all the metallic items from his storage pouch—everything but the golden Pulse Needle. Not a single metallic object remained.

He had just realized that perhaps the other metallic items—gold and silver ingots, battle-shadow iron, and so forth—were taking up the pouch’s artifact-forging energy, preventing the golden Pulse Needle from being made.

It was like flowers and weeds growing together, both needing nutrients, but if weeds absorb most of them, the flowers are left with little, growing slowly or not at all.

This reasoning was hardly certain, but Chu Feng could think of no other explanation.

"At this point, I have no choice but to gamble on my luck. If it works, everyone rejoices. If not, the Mu family will call me a charlatan, and I’ll have no defense," he resolved.

After clearing the pouch of all metallic items, Chu Feng watched closely.

"Hm? What’s this mist?" he noticed a faint wisp of mist swirling around the golden Pulse Needle. The mist churned, condensed, spread, and gathered again in a flurry of activity.

In just a few breaths, before Chu Feng could discern what was happening, another golden Pulse Needle appeared next to the first—two identical needles!

His heart raced—was he seeing things? No, looking closely, there were indeed three golden Pulse Needles!

In the storage pouch, there were now three golden Pulse Needles!

The original had suddenly produced two perfect replicas.

One had become three.

Just a quarter-hour before, Chu Feng would have thanked the heavens for even a single new needle. Now, two had appeared at once!

"Success! I haven’t let Miss Mu down—I did it! Ha!"

Chu Feng was ecstatic, more so than a couple who, after fruitless longing, suddenly welcomed twins.

"Master Lin Shan, is it not ready yet?" Mu Yun’er’s voice called again from inside. "The hour is up! You need not force yourself any longer. Miss Mu understands your good intentions and won’t blame you. Keep the Pulse Needle safe—I am coming to take it."

"Sister Mu, I succeeded!" Chu Feng exclaimed, immediately taking out the three Pulse Needles and placing them carefully on the table. He then quickly gathered the gold and silver ingots, battle-shadow iron, and metallic pellets from the floor and stowed them away.

"What? Master Lin Shan, you succeeded? There’s a second Pulse Needle?" Mu Yun’er’s voice was filled with joy as she hurriedly lifted the curtain and entered.

"Sister Mu, not just two, but three! This one is the Pulse Needle you gave me. The other two I just forged with a secret method. Quick, take them inside—use them for Miss Mu!" Chu Feng, overwhelmed with excitement, handed the three needles to Mu Yun’er, his breath coming in gasps, his hands trembling.

"Thank you, thank you! Master Lin Shan, are you alright?" Noticing Chu Feng’s pallor and trembling, Mu Yun’er was alarmed—he looked as if he had suffered a severe internal injury.

"Master Lin Shan, are you alright?"

"I... I..." Chu Feng opened his mouth, but no words came out. He felt as though a surging tide of energy was battering through him, his organs aching as if struck by hammers.

Suddenly, his throat tightened; with a cry, he vomited a mouthful of fresh blood, splattering it across Mu Yun’er’s chest and staining the three Pulse Needles a vivid crimson.

Chu Feng’s vision went black, and he collapsed heavily to the ground.