The darkness that swallowed Wei Shen after he ingested the drop of "Poisonous Sand Scorpion" venom was not the quiet darkness of death, but a vortex of pure torment. He felt as if hellfire had erupted in his veins, burning every cell, tearing every nerve. His lean body trembled with uncontrollable violence on the cold gray earth, his back arching in painful spasms, his mouth emitting muffled groans like the cries of a dying, wounded animal.
There was no true consciousness, only scattered islands of searing sensation. At times, he would feel an icy coldness seeping into his limbs, as if death were extending its cold fingers to grasp his soul. At other times, he would feel an unbearable heat, as if being roasted over a slow fire. The meager "Blood Qi" in his Dantian was in a state of utter chaos, clashing violently with the venoms ravaging his body – the venom from the original sting, and the venom from the additional drop he had ingested.
It was a savage internal struggle, a battle raging in every artery and every muscle. It wasn't Emperor Arthur's consciousness directly leading this fight; he himself was on the verge of fading, barely clinging to a thin thread of awareness amidst this inferno. But his steel will, that unyielding determination forged through years of dominance and conflict, had been deeply imprinted onto this body, into this new soul. "Wei Shen's" body, despite its weakness, refused to surrender.
"Will not… fall… here…" The thought formed with extreme difficulty, a lone spark in a storm, tearing apart and reassembling itself. "Not… like this…"
Time passed without Wei Shen sensing it. Perhaps hours, or maybe an entire day. He fluctuated between consciousness and unconsciousness, between burning pain and cold numbness. In rare moments of relative clarity, he would see the face of the dead "Poisonous Sand Scorpion" before him, his bloodstained leather waterskin, and beside it, the "beast core" for which he had nearly paid with his life. These images served as a harsh reminder of the price, and of the potential reward if he survived.
Then, very slowly, almost imperceptibly, the balance of power in the internal conflict began to shift.
Perhaps that additional drop of venom, which had seemed like a certain death sentence, had induced a kind of violent shock to his system, a shock that forced his "Blood Qi," or what remained of his body's vitality, into a more desperate and ferocious battle. Or perhaps, as sometimes happens with venoms, a very small quantity of the same poison had stimulated a kind of primitive immunity or an extreme defensive reaction.
Wei Shen didn't know the reason, nor was he in any state to analyze. All he felt was that the intensity of the searing pain gradually began to lessen, and the deadly coldness that had been creeping through his limbs started to slowly recede. The convulsions became less violent, and his breathing, which had been shallow and ragged, began to deepen slightly.
When he finally regained full consciousness, his body was still in a pitiable state. He was so weak he could barely move his eyelids. His skin was covered in a layer of cold, viscous sweat and bore dark purple patches where the venom had been most concentrated, especially around the original sting site on his shoulder. His head throbbed with a dull ache, and his mouth was as dry as a desert.
But he was alive.
"Survived… barely," he rasped, his voice weaker than the rustling of leaves.
With a colossal effort, he opened his eyes. The world was still blurry and distorted, but he could make out the outlines of the scorpion's corpse before him, his leather waterskin, and the beast core. No one had touched them. No other predator had approached. Perhaps the strong scent of venom emanating from the scorpion's carcass and from himself had kept other creatures away.
He looked at his injured shoulder. It was still badly swollen, its color a terrifying mix of blue, black, and purple. But the burning pain had eased, transforming into a deep, heavy ache. More importantly, the numbness was no longer spreading. It had stopped.
"This madness… actually worked," he thought, a strange sense of cold amazement washing over him. "I danced with death… and came out with scratches."
He examined the "Blood Qi" in his Dantian. It had been almost completely depleted during the battle with the venom, only a very thin thread remaining, even weaker than when he had broken through to the first level. But this meager thread felt different now. It was colder, sharper, as if that horrific experience had refined it, purged some impurities (or perhaps added new, darker ones). He sensed that this "Qi" now carried a slight resistance to toxins, as if it had acquired a bitter memory from the recent battle.
"Whatever doesn't kill me… at least makes me different," he muttered with biting sarcasm.
Now, the priority was to survive after escaping immediate death. His body was in dire need of water and rest, then food.
Very slowly, he began to drag himself towards his leather waterskin containing the scorpion's blood, and to the pouch holding the beast core. Every movement required an unimaginable effort. When he finally reached them, he grasped the spiritual core first. It was still slightly warm and pulsed with a potent spiritual energy.
"This… is fuel for the stone," he thought. "But perhaps… perhaps I can benefit from it directly now, even if only a little."
He had no idea how to absorb energy directly from a beast core. The original "Wei Shen's" memories held no information on that; such things were far beyond the reach of an outer disciple with a damaged root. But he was desperate.
He closed his eyes, held the core in both hands, pressed it against his Dantian, and tried to draw the energy from it in the same way he had drawn "Blood Qi" from the stone.
Nothing happened at first. Then, after several minutes of arduous concentration, he felt a very thin thread of pure, warm energy, entirely different from the cold, aggressive "Blood Qi," seeping slowly from the core into his body. It was an extremely slow process, and the amount he absorbed was minuscule, but it was enough to give him a slight sensation of warmth and comfort, and to alleviate some of that deadly exhaustion.
"Pure energy… can be absorbed, but with very low efficiency without a proper technique," he concluded. "But it's better than nothing."
After absorbing what he could from the core, which seemed to have lost a small part of its luster, he drank a little of the scorpion's blood he had collected in the waterskin. It tasted revolting, but he felt it give him a slight boost of vital energy.
Then, with the last of his remaining strength, he began to crawl, dragging his exhausted body, his wounds and pains, and his precious spoils, towards the cave. The return journey was like a nightmare, every meter covered a small victory over the death that still lurked nearby.
When he finally reached the dark cave entrance, he collapsed completely, losing consciousness once more.
But he was inside the cave. He had survived.
And when he awoke again, many hours later, the "Blood-Devouring Stone" was still there, waiting silently, like an ancient demon promising power to those who dared pay the price.
Wei Shen looked at the stone, then at the waterskin of scorpion blood and its core beside him. His body still ached, and hunger was returning, but there was a new determination in his eyes, a determination forged in the crucible of venom and death.
"I've paid the price for this offering… in advance, and very dearly," he rasped, his voice carrying a deep hoarseness. "Now… show me what all this suffering is worth, you damned stone!"
He lifted the waterskin of scorpion blood with a trembling hand and prepared to make the most precious offering he had yet presented.