Eternal Cultivation Of Alchemy

Bai Zhuqiang was stirred awake from his deep cultivation. He took a moment to calm himself and brought out an artifact containing Voidsand within it. He checked the time that had passed and realized that it hadn’t been time.

There was still close to 2 years left before the trial he had sent the young one to come to pass. He pulled out a talisman and closely read through it. His eyes shot open instantly. The world swirled around him as he forced it to form a path from his room to the hall.

Reality shifted around him, and he was teleported into the main hall where a few White Tigers had been waiting for his arrival.

“Patriarch!”

“You’re here.”

“It’s a disaster.”

Bai Zhuqiang took one look at each one there and nodded. “Remain calm. Let me go investigate what is happening first.”

He disappeared again and arrived in a sacred location within the White Tiger Palace. It was a descending spire that went deep into the earth. Circular stairs descended from the top, where a large lantern burning with a gold and green fire lit up the area.

The patriarch looked toward the flame for a moment, always happy to see the Soul Flame of the Progenitor that continued to burn.

This was a secret that no one else among the White Tigers, except for a select few members, was aware of.

The wall of the upside-down spire was carved out, small lamps placed inside. Beneath the lamp was a name. The soul flame that burned within it carried the truth of the person’s survival.

Bai Zhuqiang walked down the stairs, walking past mostly empty lamps. The names at the top belonged to the Progenitor’s various

children and their various grandchildren.

There were more names among the grandchildren, but even then there weren’t many. Most of Bai Zhuqiang’s cousins had passed away long since. Those that were alive had weak Soul Flames.

There were a few that had strong flames, but it was nothing more than a lie kept alive by the spire as it too was unaware of the truth. Sometimes, a White Tiger died while out in space, and their flames never vanished.

Something about the lack of Heaven caused these Soul Flames to not work as they were intended.

Bai Zhuqiang continued walking down, walking past the region where the lamps were more alive than not. His children, nieces, and nephews were mostly alive, and so were their children. Many perished too, but not as many as there were alive.

Walking past those, Bai Zhuqiang finally arrived at the region that had called for his attention.

He stopped before a name – Bai Yanbei – and saw the empty lamp. That child had died.

The Soul Lamp could be copied by a parent or others who wished to keep an eye on their children. It would be linked to the soul lamp in here, and when the flame winked out here, it winked out in the copied lamp as well.

However, there were sometimes chances of the copied lamp malfunctioning, resulting in the sudden winking of the flame.

Normally, if a soul flame went out, the person would request someone to come check here to make sure it was true or not. Almost every time, it wouldn’t be the patriarch.

Today, however, things were different.

Today, 29 lamps had gone out in the span of not even a few hours, the latest one being Bai Yanbei.

The patriarch continued down.

Bai Shanqiu’s flame was gone, so was Bai Wangmi’s. Bai Tengzhi, Bai Funing, Bai Ruxiao, and every other one of the 29 names he had been given were all dead.

The patriarch’s breath caught in his chest. What could have happened? A massacre of the White Tigers needed to be answered. He needed to find out the truth as soon as he could.

He was about to leave, but he knew he needed to see one more name.

He moved down the stairs, walking past hundreds of other lamps before he arrived at the very last one.

This one didn’t belong to a Bai, but rather a Qing.

Qing Shouchuang’s lamp was burning bright and proper.

The patriarch sighed in relief and finally left the Soul Flame spire, appearing back at the hall.

“I have checked. These deaths are indeed not a mistake,” the patriarch said. “Our children have indeed been killed. Someone tell me you know where they were. Go check their last known status now.”

“Patriarch,” Bai Fulin stepped forward. “I’ve already had that checked. I have come to learn that they had all entered the Fighting Island about

a decade ago.”

The patriarch paused. “A decade ago?” he asked, his eyes narrowing in

suspicion.

Bai Fulin nodded. “Eight years ago, to be precise.”

The patriarch nodded slowly, an understanding coming to him. He turned toward the other White Tigers in the room. He looked at one

of the White Tigers whose child had died.

The beast was in a very sorry state, but the patriarch struggled to find sympathy for his situation.

“Little Paijung, your son was not part of the small group of youngsters

that were sent to the Fighting Island, was he?” he asked.

“No, Patriarch. He went out later, to test himself.”

“To test himself, huh?” the patriarch repeated his words. “And it was

for no other reason?”

The White Tiger gulped. “I… I’m not aware of any other reason he may

have gone there for.”

“Is that so,” the patriarch said, not forcing the situation. “And remind

me again who Bai Yanbei’s grandfather is.”

“Bai Caoyang, grandfather,” Bai Fulin said.

“Bai Caoyang, grandson of Bai Caoming,” the patriarch said.

“Why should that matter, Patriarch?” the other White Tiger asked.

“Our children have died.”

“Your children died in the lawless land where murder isn’t persecuted. You are fully aware that whoever dies in the Fighting

Island is never avenged,” the patriarch said. “I’ll see if we can have the corpses recovered. We’ll have a funeral for all the dead shortly.”

Once everyone left, begrudgingly, Bai Fulin stepped closer.

“Bai Caoyang and his coterie of purists have already left for the Fighting Island.”