Chapter Thirteen: Metamorphosis

After becoming the head servant, Gong Hao found his work had actually become lighter. At the end of the third month, the Liberty sent another servant to take over his duties in Area 13, freeing Gong Hao from being tied to that area every day.

Still, as before, he continued to help all the other servants with their tasks, always cheerful, always ready to lend a hand, his face perpetually adorned with a bright smile.

No one could see the storm of hatred hidden behind the smile of this golden-haired boy.

These days, Gong Hao had more than once used his battle energy to search for the so-called spirit seed within his body.

Yet, strangely enough, he could never sense anything amiss within himself.

It seemed this little thing was remarkably adept at hiding—even his battle energy couldn’t detect its presence.

On the flip side, while searching for the spirit seed with his battle energy, Gong Hao discovered another use for it—internal vision.

Following the external release and retraction of inner energy, Gong Hao had successively mastered three applications of battle energy: elemental sensitivity, shadow concealment, and internal vision. What puzzled him was this—wasn’t elemental sensitivity supposed to be the innate talent of magi? Why could he sense it when using battle energy?

He had a vague sense that, lacking proper guidance, his path of martial cultivation was veering into uncharted territory—a road none before him had walked.

A path he himself must carve out alone.

The prospects of this road were uncertain, fraught with hardship; no one could predict its outcome. Yet he had no other choice.

After mastering internal vision, Gong Hao discovered a sixth application of battle energy: the rapid alternation between external release and retraction. By first channeling his battle energy to his legs for explosive kinetic force, then instantly retracting the flow, he could launch himself forward like a cannonball, achieving sudden acceleration.

If he then focused his battle energy into his arms, he could execute a fierce, thrusting assassination. He named this move “Piercing Thrust.”

The use of battle energy was the foundation of all martial skills. The more Gong Hao learned to wield it, the more he realized that so-called martial techniques were simply outward manifestations of how one employed battle energy.

All applications of battle energy ultimately served these martial techniques. The more abundant and better mastered one’s battle energy, the more powerful one’s techniques became.

For now, Gong Hao could only perform a single Piercing Thrust before the rapid circulation of energy left him utterly exhausted. Still, he was confident that, with time and adaptation, he would be able to execute the move repeatedly.

Having also grasped some skills of shadow concealment, he knew that combining it with Piercing Thrust would have devastating effects in assassination.

But Gong Hao’s main focus remained on investigating the spirit seed within him.

He had scoured nearly every book and record in the library, but to his regret, found nothing on the subject.

Clearly, the truly advanced alchemical texts were not kept in the library.

Unable to find records of the spirit seed and unable to sense it with battle energy, Gong Hao could only wait for an opportunity.

In the meantime, he kept working diligently. After all, as long as he was alive, there was hope. To stay alive, he had to convince Andrew that a living Xiu Yigleier was more valuable than a dead one with the spirit seed cut from his belly. Only then would Andrew let him remain.

Only then would Gong Hao have a chance to resolve his own crisis.

To achieve this, he needed to make as many contributions as possible.

Gong Hao threw himself into alchemy with near-maniacal dedication. Across all sixty material zones, his busy figure could be spotted everywhere.

He researched every possible method to increase yields, poured his heart into nurturing and extracting the potential value of every magical plant, insect, and beast, familiarized himself with their habits and behaviors.

Half a year passed in a flash. Thanks to Gong Hao’s efforts, several magical beasts and plants on the brink of extinction were successfully cultivated. Efficiency in every region soared; the supply of materials greatly improved.

Even Andrew praised him on more than one occasion: “This boy is a genius. His contribution here far exceeds that of any apprentice.”

Before his remaining value was wrung dry, Gong Hao had no intention of relinquishing the spirit seed. Just as he had predicted, the seed could be taken at any time, but a servant as exceptional as he was truly rare.

———

A few drops of Spotted Viper’s venomous saliva fell onto the heart of the flower, and the ferocious ghostly face on its blossom softened for a moment.

After becoming head servant, the Lot Flower became the only species Gong Hao personally tended. It required the venomous saliva of the Spotted Viper to survive—a substance that only Gong Hao could obtain with any reliability.

“Lot” was the name Gong Hao gave this unknown species, to honor its discoverer, Lancelot. The gesture was skillful flattery; Lancelot’s expression when he learned that Xiu Yigleier had named a species after him was quite a sight.

Gong Hao had said, “I simply wish for future generations to know that a great warrior once devoted twenty precious years of his life to the rise of the Empire. While all the peerless warriors are leaving their mark on this era in their own way, you, sir, remain unsung. It’s unfair to you. I am but a lowly servant, with no means to do much for you. But at the very least, I can cultivate a species you discovered. If fate allows it to spread, then your name may linger in the memories of those who come after. When people wonder why it’s called the Lot Flower, they’ll say a Sky Warrior once buried himself on a deserted island for the Empire’s sake—a truly great warrior.”

Lancelot had said nothing at the time.

But he did share with Gong Hao some crucial tips and precautions for using battle energy, saving him much hardship on his self-taught path.

Often, to move a person’s heart, one needed only the right words. Perhaps what Lancelot wished for most in life was to leave this place, return to the human world, and win people’s admiration with his martial prowess.

On this infernal island, Gong Hao felt that aside from the servants, Lancelot was perhaps the only man of conscience.

Perhaps he chose to live by the lakeside because he couldn’t stomach Pierre and the others’ cruelty—treating every boy as an experiment, subjecting them to inhuman trials, and unable to stop it because of his orders from above.

If Gong Hao wanted to prolong his days on the island, his best hope might lie with Lancelot. Maintaining a good relationship with him was crucial.

Of course, Gong Hao knew Lancelot would never openly oppose the Empire for his sake, but that didn’t preclude him from offering small favors and protection. With Lancelot’s help, Gong Hao could carry out his plans more smoothly.

His words had not merely been to please Lancelot and receive instruction; more importantly, they were meant to kindle that hidden longing in his heart.

As a Sky Warrior, Lancelot could never be content to wither away in obscurity on this island.

At this stage, Lancelot’s presence was immensely beneficial: his good graces could make Andrew hesitate before acting against Gong Hao; he was a source of advanced battle energy techniques; he could even do things Gong Hao himself could not. But at the final moment, Lancelot’s presence might become a huge impediment—he was, after all, part of the castle’s defense.

Thus, Gong Hao needed to both cultivate a good relationship with Lancelot and, when necessary, help him leave this place.

He buried this entire plan deep in his heart, reminding himself every day to tread carefully, to act with the utmost caution.

After dripping the saliva, the Lot Flower bloomed even more radiantly.

Gong Hao stepped back a few paces, gazing at the flower and murmuring, “What are you, really? What use do you have? You know that on this island of purgatory, useless life is never allowed to linger.”

The Lot Flower offered no reply, merely drooping its blossom slightly.

Was it shy?

Gong Hao was curious. He stepped forward, examining the flower’s reaction. Odd—it had never done this before.

Had his words struck it so deeply?

Ever since he successfully cultivated the Bloody Orchid, Gong Hao understood he could never treat magical plants as ordinary flora. Magical beasts had simple minds—some could even communicate with humans—but magical plants possessed an even greater spiritual sensitivity. They couldn’t speak, but they understood emotions and behavior, knew what was beneficial or harmful to them.

Why are graveyards always desolate, covered in withered grass and dead leaves? Because even plants shun places filled with death.

The Lot Flower seemed visibly affected by Gong Hao’s words, its blossom drooping dispiritedly.

Gong Hao reached out, intending to comfort it by caressing a petal. In the next instant, he was stunned—the ghostly face on the blossom vanished.

Rubbing his eyes, he saw clearly that not only had the ghostly face disappeared, but every stalk and leaf of the Lot Flower had suddenly withdrawn, curling back into the soil—even the flower head began to wilt.

Every part exposed above the earth shrank back as if the plant’s entire life cycle—from germination to growth to ripening—had been reversed in a single moment. Gong Hao watched, dumbfounded, as the process of life itself was played in reverse.

He had no idea what had happened. Still astonished, he hurried forward and dug into the flowerpot.

There, lying quietly in the soil, was a snow-white chrysalis, radiating a crystal-clear light.

“My heavens!”

Gong Hao finally understood.

It wasn’t a plant at all, but a magical beast!

Much like the cordyceps fungus, the continent of Wind Song was home to strange magical beasts that, in their juvenile stages, took the form of plants. These creatures were extraordinary: born as magical plants, but later transforming into magical beasts.

Their plant phase was the most vulnerable—any weak creature could kill them. During this time, they needed special protection: perhaps masquerading as a fierce ghost-faced flower, perhaps being cared for by a powerful beast.

Yet even so, they were easily harmed.

Creatures with such forms were often the young of extremely powerful magical beasts. As they grew, they attracted the attention of mighty beings—some seeking to devour them for the benefits, others simply wishing to eliminate a potential threat.

Alchemists called this the Dormancy Period of magical beasts, also known as the juvenile or death phase. Many powerful magical beasts perished at this stage. People believed this was a law made by the gods to balance the existence of the strong and the weak.

This law ordained that powerful magical beasts must undergo hardship in their growth, thus limiting their numbers.

According to alchemists, the Dormancy Period had several stages. Some beasts, upon leaving their plant phase, matured immediately; others had further stages. The longer the dormancy, the stronger the beast would be upon maturity.

Now, it seemed this magical beast had ended its plant phase and entered the chrysalis state—like a caterpillar turning into a butterfly.

Who knew what would come after the chrysalis? Would it emerge fully formed, or was there yet another stage?

Never in his wildest dreams had Gong Hao imagined he’d encounter such a strange species. The so-called Lot Flower was a joke—this was the juvenile form of a magical beast destined for unimaginable greatness. No wonder it possessed such spiritual sensitivity and emotional response.

Once, Gong Hao might have considered reporting this to Andrew. But not now.

What did it matter if it was a powerful magical beast? The stronger, the better—may it one day turn this cursed fortress upside down.

Resolute, he gently stroked the snowy chrysalis. “I know you’re still fragile. Maybe you’re scared, maybe you were meant to pupate long ago but didn’t dare. But don’t worry—until you truly grow up, I’ll protect you. No one else will know you exist.”

The white chrysalis quivered in response.

Gong Hao covered it back up with soil.

It looked like the chrysalis would remain underground for some time yet.

Now, the only problem was how to explain the disappearance of the Lot Flower.

As he pondered, Fink suddenly burst in, shouting, “Xiu Yi, something’s wrong! There’s trouble!”