The ponytail girl bent unsteadily over the body, her outward appearance that of a child not yet twelve.

  Yet every movement mirrored the black-robed crone from the underground palace.

  “Such a pretty face,” she murmured, voice rasping like dry leaves. “Early elemental stage… but no matter. From this day forward, you serve me.”

  Her fingers traced Wanwan’s smooth, youthful cheek with possessive reverence.

  “Awaken, my faithful servant.”

  A coil of black mist rose from the girl’s chest.

  She pried open Wanwan’s bloodless lips and guided the darkness inside.

  Black essence flared from her palms—tendrils that burrowed into Wanwan’s chest.

  They brushed the pierced heart. With a gentle squeeze, the wound sealed. The heart beat once more.

  Wanwan drew a shuddering breath and opened her eyes.

  Icy blue irises stared up into bottomless black.

  To the newly revived Wanwan, those ink-dark pupils were achingly familiar.

  Closer inspection revealed five tiny black specks swirling slowly within them.

  “Han Shuang swears eternal loyalty to the Spirit Lord!” Wanwan dropped to her knees in fervent devotion.

  The girl smiled, satisfied. The Spirit Lord had kept the promise.

  “Cherish this vessel,” the rasping voice continued. “Your loyalty earned it.”

  Tears spilled down Wanwan’s cheeks.

  “Han Shuang will follow the Spirit Lord unto death!”

  “From today, you are Wanwan. Live as her. Speak of this to no one.”

  “Wanwan obeys!”

  The girl’s smile widened—everything unfolding exactly as planned.

  She turned to the window, glaring at the storm-heavy sky as if she could drag the hidden saint from the clouds.

  “Enough,” she said at last. “Go free the others. I sense them close. Act when the moment is right.”

  “As you command!”

  Wanwan bowed and hurried from the ward.

  The black spirit within settled comfortably into its new home—far superior to the crumbling shell it had abandoned.

  She summoned water essence, then froze it in an instant. The sensation stirred memories of her original body.

  Lost in the pleasure of it, she had barely stepped into the corridor when Yue Yang caught her arm.

  Yue Yang signed gently, “I’ll take the second half of the night. Go rest.”

  Wanwan stared blankly—she couldn’t understand the signs. Only then did she grasp the Spirit Lord’s cunning: the real Wanwan had been a healer here.

  Afraid of giving herself away, she muttered, “Need the latrine,” and slipped free.

  Yue Yang watched her go, frowning. She touched her own hand—Wanwan’s skin had been unnaturally cold.

  Uneasy, she entered the ward and turned on the lights, moving bed to bed, checking each sleeping child.

  The medicine had kept them in peaceful dreams. No sign of trouble.

  Relieved, Yue Yang moved to leave—then noticed the deep-blue patterned curtain fluttering in the corner.

  She hurried over. The window stood ajar.

  She was certain she had closed it herself. Wind?

  She secured the latch, but glanced outside in time to see Wanwan heading not toward the washrooms, but toward the outer camp’s detention block.

  High above, Rui Guo rode the wind on her earthen platform, Timo Yang at her side.

  Storm clouds swallowed the sky. Darkness pressed close, broken only by distant beast roars from the forest below.

  Timo, who had always feared the dark, now felt electric with excitement.

  He summoned pure white wind essence, reveling in its freedom. In daylight he would already have vanished on the breeze.

  Then a familiar stench cut through the air—necromantic corruption.

  “Aunt Guo—I smell death essence!”

  Rui Guo’s eyes narrowed. Awakened only hours ago, and already this sensitive?

  She had never met anyone who could distinguish necromantic traces so clearly. The Wind Taming bloodline was extraordinary.

  “Where?”

  She halted the platform, following his pointing finger southeast—straight toward the Black Forest road.

  Evil Cultivator remnants. The children had spoken of a surviving fire evil cultivator. It had to be.

  “Back to camp first,” she decided. “Once the curse lifts in a day or two, I’ll investigate properly.”

  She accelerated. Soon the outer camp gates loomed below—closed, steel drawbridge raised.

  Sentinels spotted her from afar and flashed greeting signals.

  The tight security reassured her. Any evil cultivator remnant able to approach undetected possessed at least three-element power.

  The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  Rui Guo soared over the walls. Aside from thunder and lightning overhead, the camp lay quiet.

  If the children showed no further symptoms tonight, half the curse crisis was over.

  “Timo, get some rest.”

  He took two steps—then froze, sniffing deeply.

  “Aunt Guo—it’s here again!”

  Her blood chilled. She scanned the watchtowers. All clear.

  Magitech sensors lined the perimeter—even a bird couldn’t slip through unnoticed.

  “Where?”

  He pointed southwest, toward the detention block.

  Rui Guo’s guard went up. She strode forward.

  The posted guards were asleep—normal for the usually quiet post.

  But tonight the block held rootless prisoners rescued from the palace, handed over by Rui Guo herself.

  Those prisoners had spoken only one phrase: “Death to all who oppose the Spirit Lord.”

  Nothing else. As if their minds had been hollowed out.

  Rui Guo sniffed the air herself—no trace.

  “Timo, again.”

  He pushed the heavy iron door ajar and inhaled deeply through the gap.

  “It’s definitely inside.”

  Certain now, Rui Guo shoved the door wide and stepped in.

  Every cell door stood open.

  The prisoners were gone.

  She moved deeper. In the mess hall, they stood in perfect rows, waiting like soldiers for orders.

  “Death to all who oppose the Spirit Lord! The Spirit Lord is eternal!”

  Their voices rose in eerie unison. At the sound of footsteps, every head turned.

  Timo hurried after Rui Guo—and a large hand suddenly blocked him.

  He looked up. Over a dozen pairs of eyes glowed dull gray.

  The prisoners parted.

  Wanwan stepped forward.

  “Wanwan!”

  Rui Guo’s voice cracked with disbelief. She had watched this girl grow up. She refused to accept it.

  “Mother of Earth,” Wanwan said with a sharp, mocking laugh. “We meet again.”

  Timo couldn’t believe his eyes. Kind, gentle Wanwan—who flinched at killing even insects—how could she be a evil cultivator?

  Mirage of Treachery

  Rui Guo could only sense an overwhelming aura pressing down on her; she couldn't see the necromantic black mist emanating from Wanwan's body.

  But she could smell it—a musty, fungal decay permeating the air. The outer camp's temporary detention quarters were usually vacant, occasionally used to host merchant caravans, with the mess hall scrubbed clean daily.

  She'd always associated that stench with the depths of the Black Forest palace, not here in the open.

  "Kid," she murmured, "is the death essence right here?"

  Timo inhaled deeply, baffled by his own certainty, yet utterly convinced the scent originated from Wanwan herself.

  "Aunt Guo, there's a tear in Sister Wanwan's uniform—right over her chest."

  Timo whispered, and Rui Guo nodded subtly; she'd already noticed.

  A wound like that should have been fatal. Water healers lacked the robust earth-element defenses to survive a pierced heart. Even a three-element healer would be helpless.

  "Who are you really?" Rui Guo demanded. "Reveal your true form!"

  Tri-colored essence flared around her, but her wind reserves were critically low after the recent depletion.

  The Black Forest palace battle had sapped her vitality, and she was still in recovery.

  "We only met moments ago," Wanwan replied coolly. "That girl who betrayed me—she was one of yours, wasn't she?"

  Rui Guo's shock intensified. Wanwan was a picture of classic beauty; nothing about her aligned with the ice evil cultivator from the palace—those black pupils, pallid corpse-like skin, puppet-like stiffness.

  "Impossible. We watched that hag drain your life force. How are you still alive?"

  Laughter bubbled from Wanwan's lips. "If your Earth Mother fell, the Spirit Lord would revive you just the same—as her slave."

  She flexed her slender fingers, summoning water essence in one hand and ice in the other.

  She reveled in the youthful vigor of this body. But it didn't stop there; the pale blue ice crystals darkened to inky black in an instant.

  "Aunt Guo, Sister Wanwan only awakened water essence—she hasn't mastered ice. Could she really be that ice evil cultivator? But she looks exactly like Wanwan!"

  Timo had often seen Wanwan by his sister's side after training sessions, which only deepened his confusion.

  "Just a glamour spell," Rui Guo replied grimly. She'd captured illusion spies before, but achieving such a seamless mimicry—appearance, voice, even essence—required at least peak two-element prowess.

  "Aren't you all awake yet?" Wanwan called to the rootless prisoners. "Just waiting to die?"

  Sensing Rui Guo's murderous intent, Wanwan knew a real fight on Watch Legion turf would draw reinforcements. She couldn't afford to betray the Spirit Lord's trust by lingering.

  "Death before dishonor to the Spirit Lord!"

  As Wanwan's chilling tone faded, the rootless prisoners shouted in unison.

  Then, the semicircle of captives underwent a sudden transformation.

  It was as if monstrous entities awakened within them, their energy fields surging so powerfully that their black robes billowed.

  Their once dull eyes turned ashen gray. The fifteen rootless humans raised their hands, each channeling peak two-element force.

  "All peak two-element? How is that possible?"

  Rui Guo stared in disbelief. Sixteen peak two-element foes—she couldn't possibly prevail in her current state.

  She was certain these rootless were ordinary humans; slaying innocents violated every principle of the Watch Legion.

  No matter what dark sorcery this impostor had employed, Rui Guo couldn't bring herself to strike.

  But Wanwan's original consciousness had long been supplanted by Han Shuang. The moment Wanwan perished, the Spirit Lord had orchestrated Han Shuang's dark spirit to inhabit her.

  By splitting off Han Shuang's essence, the Spirit Lord had delayed the girl's death and secured a flawless vessel for her loyal servant.

  Wanwan inhaled the transformations unfolding among the rootless, touching the raw power of corrupt spirit energy, breathing it in with ecstasy.

  "This... this is the sensation!"

  Seeing Wanwan's enraptured state, Rui Guo sought one final confirmation.

  "What have you done to Wanwan?"

  At Rui Guo's words, Wanwan reverted to the demeanor of the familiar gentle healer.

  "It's me, Aunt Guo. Have you forgotten me already?"

  The imitation was uncanny.

  This only heightened Rui Guo's uncertainty, making it impossible to strike decisively.

  "This... impossible! Rootless humans without spirit roots, suddenly at peak two-element!" Rui Guo muttered, encountering such dark arts for the first time.

  "The Spirit Lord is immortal and omnipotent—anything is possible."

  Wanwan responded calmly, her steps drawing her closer to Rui Guo and the visibly tense Timo.

  As Wanwan approached, Rui Guo summoned iron cages to ensnare her.

  But strangely, the figure solidified within—only for Wanwan to emerge from another direction, as if the trapped one were a mere shadow clone.

  "Tonight, whoever you are, you're not leaving Watch Legion territory!"

  As Rui Guo shook the walls of the detention quarters with seismic force, urgent footsteps echoed from behind.

  "Deacon Guo, stand down! They're just rootless—no need for such overkill!"

  A familiar voice rang out as Commander Fan Yi rushed in, disheveled and still in his night attire.

  Deacon Lan and Elder Gan followed closely, scrambling after him.

  When the deacons entered the mess hall and beheld the rootless radiating peak two-element auras, they gaped in astonishment.

  Before anyone could react, every prisoner morphed—into identical copies of Wanwan.

  "Wanwan, you're the traitor? No wonder you kept hovering around Feng Yi! I'll end you!"

  Roaring, Commander Fan Yi summoned crimson fire essence and charged forward.

  Rui Guo knew the commander was grief-stricken over his son's sacrifice, but executing without trial breached Watch Legion protocol.

  She opened her mouth to object—

  But Fan Yi's fire essence abruptly veered, slamming full force into Rui Guo's chest.

  "Traitor—this is your judgment!"

  Rui Guo reeled in shock as molten-hot hands hurled her backward, shattering her protective barrier. She smashed through three stone walls and tumbled over the cliff's edge.

  Witnessing this, Timo channeled his full spirit energy, unleashing a ferocious wind blast that staggered Fan Yi back two steps.

  But Fan Yi, consumed by rage, his eyes bloodshot, ignored the shouts from Deacon Lan and Elder Gan, raising a flaming fist to strike Timo down.

  As the fire punch hurtled toward Timo's face, in that frozen instant, Fan Yi locked eyes with Timo's wide, terrified gaze—and lost control of his body.

  "Die!"

  Timo's voice thundered in Fan Yi's mind, the roar splitting his skull with excruciating pain.

  "Get out!"

  Fan Yi bellowed in agony, his consciousness finally expelling Timo's intrusion.

  "It's the evil cultivator's mental control—seize Wanwan! She's the Child of Darkness!"

  Seeing Fan Yi's frenzied state, Elder Gan stepped forward to shield Timo.

  "Old Yi, snap out of it! He's Commander Yang's son! We've all fallen into the evil cultivator's illusion—our emotions are being amplified infinitely."

  With that, Elder Gan produced a magitech metal box and flipped it open, emitting a shrill, ear-piercing screech.

  The surrounding frequencies shattered, disrupting the illusion field. The wavering mirages revealed that the myriad Wanwans were mere phantoms—the true one had long vanished.

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