Chapter 008: Micro-Dust Mends Bone to Commune with Wings, Severing Water Ignites a Deadly Crisis

Beside the newly carved porous stone channel, the white-feathered spirit dove lay slumped against the damp mud. Its pristine plumage was soaked in congealed, blackened gore.

Its right wing twisted at a grotesque, unnatural angle, splintered bone jutting through shredded muscle and feathers. Deep upon its breast lay a fist-sized bruise as dark as charred pitch—a cruel palm print radiating the nauseating chill of necrotic corpse fiend.

Gu Qingwei knelt, dirt caked on his hands, and carefully cradled the broken bird in his palms.

A frail heartbeat fluttered against his skin like a candle guttering in a gale. With every ragged throb, a trickle of dark blood laced with frost crystals seeped from its beak.

"Do not rush to open the missive. Save its life first."

Drawing a slender reed stem from his waistband, Gu Qingwei delicately teased apart the dark iron wire cinched deep into the dove’s right claw.

Clatter.

The half-inch bamboo tube sealed with the cinnabar wolf-head fell into the mire. He did not spare it a single glance, pouring all his concentration into shielding the spirit beast's faltering heart.

The old yellow ox trudged over with heavy, squelching steps. Lowering its snout, it inhaled the grim aura radiating from the blackened palm print. Its copper-bell eyes narrowed, its throat rumbling in gravelly human speech:

"The Yin Fiend Heart-Shattering Palm... favored by Manager Zhao's personal henchmen. This bird is a Wind-Chasing Spirit Dove reared by the Outer Sect Deacons' Hall, bred to fly three thousand miles a day to deliver sealed directives. Struck by such vile force, the poison has already eaten into its marrow. In an ordinary laborer’s hands, it would have rotted into a puddle of foul slime before half an incense stick burned."

"Since it fell beside my furrow, its life should not end here."

Gu Qingwei reached into the inner lining of his ragged tunic and retrieved a slender bone needle, polished as fine as a willow leaf.

Sitting cross-legged upon the moist Black Spirit Loam, he laid the dying bird across his lap. Closing his eyes, he eased his breathing into the deep, rhythmic pulse of the earth.

Against his chest, the bronze talisman warmed, casting a halo of muted bronze light across his lap.

Myriad Transformations Micro-Observation—enter the subtle!

Following the tip of the bone needle, Gu Qingwei’s spiritual sense flowed into the dove's tiny frame.

Under his microscopic sight, the avian chest was in ruins: the fragile wing bones were shattered into seven or eight fragments, meridians torn apart, while viscous clumps of dark Yin-fire fiend clung to the marrow like leeches, choking the last spark of life.

"Myriad dust transformations, channel breath to knit the bone."

The needle tip touched the fractured junction. Pure five-element wood and water essence flowed steadily from Gu Qingwei’s fingertips.

Threads of gentle, translucent emerald radiance emerged from the bronze seal, tenderly lifting the jagged bone fragments and setting them back into alignment.

Sensing his summon, the invisible sacred microbes within the Black Spirit Loam rose through his true essence, clustering around the fissures.

In the Dao of the soil, life and death bow to universal harmony.

The microbes gorged upon the stagnant Yin toxins festering in the marrow, greedily devouring the lethal chill and transmuting it into warm, nourishing marrow fluid.

Sssss—

A thin wisp of bitter, foul smoke curled from between the white feathers, dissolving into the air.

The congealed vitality within the dove resumed its flow like a frozen brook greeted by spring. Under the nourishment of the living dust, the fractures sealed seamlessly, fresh muscle knitting closed.

Its fading heartbeat grew swift and vigorous once more!

Gu Qingwei’s face paled. The sharp ache of overextended spiritual sense pulsed between his brows, yet he did not withdraw. Instead, seizing the moment of the bird's resurrection, he activated the second sacred art of the Myriad Transformations Seal:

Universal Resonant Breath!

An invisible ripple of vibrational resonance bridged the space between his palm and the tiny syrinx in the dove's throat.

“Coo... coo-coo...”

The dove’s eyelids fluttered. The murky gray film over its eyes receded, revealing a pair of clear, alert eyes that shone like polished jet.

It blinked in bewilderment. Feeling the soothing warmth coursing through its mended wings, its throat quivered, releasing a shrill, frantic cry.

To an ordinary cultivator, it was merely the frightened chirping of a bird. Yet through the mystical harmony of the Resonant Breath, the sound echoed in Gu Qingwei’s consciousness as the crisp, terrified voice of a weeping young woman:

"Help... run! The secret letter! Someone is plotting murder in the toxic wasteland!"

The dove flapped its freshly mended wings in panic. Lifting its tiny head, it stared in sheer disbelief at the ragged youth before it.

Its thoughts were completely connected with this human!

"Do not panic. You have already landed in the wasteland," Gu Qingwei responded gently through spiritual intent, his fingers smoothing its ruffled head feathers. "I pulled you back from death. What is written in the dispatch upon your claw?"

Trembling, the dove burrowed into his palm, transmitting frantic thoughts:

"It's Manager Zhao! That skin-flaying demon! The mountain patrols smelled the sweet aroma of high-tier spirit rice on the wind and reported it! He suspects you didn't die—that you actually grew living crops out here! He... he issued an extermination decree! He ordered Wang Heng to bring heavy iron locks to weld the northern mountain sluice gate shut tomorrow at noon!"

Gu Qingwei’s eyes turned cold.

Reaching down, he picked up the bloodstained dispatch cylinder from the mud.

Crack!

With a pinch of his fingers, the bamboo cylinder shattered into splinters. A scrap of dark-red parchment rolled into his palm.

Unfolding the parchment, bloody characters penned in Manager Zhao’s venomous hand leaped into view:

"Order Deacon Wang Heng: Tomorrow at noon, prepare heavy black-iron locks and molten slag to seal every sluice gate leading from the northern slope to the rear wasteland! Cut off every drop of water! Should any sign of living green shoots be found within the Myriad Poison flats, slaughter them on sight and report it as incineration by volcanic fiend!"

The handwriting dripped with vicious cruelty—a vow to wipe this barren furrow off the face of the world!

The old ox stepped forward. Lowering its head to read the blood-soaked parchment, twin flames of azure thunder flickered in its copper-bell eyes. A subterranean growl rumbled from its throat:

"What a venomous cur! If the main sluice gate is welded shut, not only will your stone channel run dry, but this entire hollow will become a scorched furnace!"

The ox lifted its muzzle toward the scorching sky, its voice dropping like lead:

"The Scarlet Cloud seedlings have just sprouted their third leaf; their roots desperately thirst for water. If the flow is cut tomorrow at noon, three days under this scorching sun will bake all thirty-six seedlings into gray ash!"

“The broken-winged startled bird plunges burdened with fiendish malice,
Yet micro-dust mends shattered bone to bring celestial foresight.
The mad tyrant plots to sever the lifeblood of tender shoots,
Only to summon deep subterranean springs to temper immortal design.”

Hot wind swept across the Myriad Poison Wasteland, kicking up swarms of charred soot.

Among the furrows, the thirty-six verdant seedlings of Scarlet Cloud Rice swayed carefree in the breeze, utterly oblivious to the catastrophe brewing behind the northern slopes.

Gu Qingwei crushed the bloodstained parchment into dust between his fingers, his knuckles turning stark white.

He looked up toward the distant northern peaks of the Qingling Sect. There was no fear in his eyes—only a cold, unyielding chill, as patient and inexorable as iron buried ten thousand years beneath the mud.

Tomorrow at noon, the gates would close.

There were only twelve hours left before the last breath of life was choked from the wasteland!

Author's Note: Thank you for reading! The conflict is escalating as Manager Zhao moves to cut the water supply. If you enjoyed this chapter and can't wait to see how Gu Qingwei counters this deadly scheme, Advance Chapters are already live on my Patreon under the [The Dying Ox] tier (or unlock both novels via the [Grand Dao All-Access] tier)!

👉 Support the hearth and read ahead on Patreon!

Every follow, rating, and pledge helps this humble forge burn bright, and the old ox sends you a resonant, approving nod!