Chapter Twenty-Three: Rescue

When they landed in the woods, the roc was already unconscious. Ye Hua stepped forward to examine it closely. The bird had jade-green eyes and golden feathers, an iron beak and steel talons, giving it an appearance of extraordinary nobility and ferocity. Yet its body was stained with blood, large patches of feathers fallen, clearly indicating severe injuries. Many wounds still bled, the blood dark and foul-smelling, revealing the presence of a potent poison.

Ye Hua frowned as he observed the roc’s condition; the poison was formidable, perhaps beyond his ability to cure. Yet he could not bear to see such a magnificent creature on the brink of death. He extended his finger toward the bird, sending a stream of golden energy into its body from a distance. The roc shuddered, slowly awakened, and fixed its gaze on Ye Hua. Sensing the benevolence in the gesture, a trace of gratitude appeared in its eyes.

Seeing the roc revive, Ye Hua stopped and clasped his hands in greeting. “Brother Roc, I am Ye Hua. I mean no harm. I see you have been severely poisoned today. I wonder if I might assist you.” The bird seemed to understand his words, let out a long cry, and shook its head, suggesting Ye Hua could not help.

“Do you have any means of detoxification yourself?” Ye Hua asked. The roc whimpered mournfully and shook its head again, indicating it had no way to save itself and could only resign itself to fate. Ye Hua sighed, “My cultivation is shallow; I fear I am powerless as well.” The roc did not hold out hope for Ye Hua, but its eyes dimmed even further upon hearing this.

Ye Hua watched the bird in silence. Both stood motionless for a long time. The roc’s gaze gradually lost its light. Unable to bear seeing such a noble creature die, Ye Hua hesitated briefly and said, “Brother Roc, I have one method that might save your life, but I fear you may not consent.”

Upon hearing this, the bird’s fading spirit gathered itself, a hint of urgency in its eyes. Ye Hua dared not delay, explaining haltingly, “My method is… I will use a secret art to bind your three souls and seven spirits, then purge the poisoned blood from your body, and replenish what is lost with my own essence. You may survive, but henceforth, your body and soul will carry my vital energy. If I am injured or die, you will also suffer greatly. Do you accept?”

The roc hesitated for a moment, then nodded vigorously, signifying its consent. Seeing this, Ye Hua no longer hesitated. He calmed his mind and quietly summoned his energy.

This secret technique originated from the “Ghost Valley Codex,” used to subdue spiritual beasts by binding them with one’s own blood and spirit, ensuring absolute control—such a beast could never betray its master, its fate tied to the master's will. Though many methods exist for taming spiritual beasts, this one is notorious for its cruelty, shunned by most.

When Ye Hua studied the codex, he paid little attention to this technique. Now, it was not a matter of exploiting weakness; only by employing this art could he fully purge the poison and save the roc’s life. He did not intend to enslave it.

The roc, understanding Ye Hua’s intentions, thought to itself: “I will likely have to follow Ye Hua all my life. If I am fortunate, perhaps he will treat me as a friend or teacher; if he is malicious, I may be doomed to servitude. But at this moment, I have no choice—my fate is sealed.”

Ye Hua meditated for some time. Suddenly opening his eyes, he waved his hands around and chanted, “Dark depths reverse, traverse the six voids.” Light surged around him, flags appeared in the ground, forming a strange array encircling the roc. As the formation took shape, chill winds rose, ghostly voices echoed. Ye Hua reached into the array and shouted, “Release!” Instantly, the roc’s body shuddered, black mist billowed, and a faint shadow drifted up from its form—its three souls and seven spirits, wavering in midair as if about to dissipate.

Ye Hua traced a half-circle in the air, and a ball of golden light emerged from his brow, floated forward, and intertwined with the bird’s soul, merging within it. The shadow grew more substantial. Ye Hua’s hands trembled with exertion, but he breathed a sigh of relief upon completing this step.

The next task was to purge the poisoned blood. He steadied himself, extended his finger, and sent a thread of golden flame—a pure elemental fire—toward the roc, enshrouding it. Soon, black blood oozed from the wounds, its foul stench filling the air. The fire and blood hissed as they interacted, and Ye Hua marveled at the potency of the poison. “No wonder even such a formidable bird was rendered helpless.”

Ye Hua continued the detoxification for two or three hours until no trace of poisoned blood remained. By then, his energy was depleted, barely able to sustain the elemental fire. He took several pills from his pouch, swallowing them to restore his strength.

Glancing at the bird lying within the formation and its soul hovering above, Ye Hua knew time was critical. He could not afford to rest. His right hand summoned the Crimson Crow Dagger. Without hesitation, he slashed his left arm, blood flowing freely. Before it touched the ground, he guided it with a gesture so it floated forward, forming a crimson thread in the air.

The blood paused briefly, then settled onto the roc and vanished. Gradually, Ye Hua’s complexion grew paler, while the bird’s body began to recover. Feathers regrew at an astonishing rate, golden plumage shining anew. Seeing the bird restored, Ye Hua pressed his right hand to the wound, staunching the blood. His body staggered, nearly falling, as dizziness and darkness clouded his vision—he knew it was due to excessive loss of essence. “I must not faint now, or all will be lost!”

He forced himself to focus, summoned what energy remained, and looked at the soul, now drifting as if about to vanish. Ye Hua realized the crucial moment had come—the soul would not last much longer; he must act swiftly.

He clasped his hands and shouted, “Unite!” The soul, pressured by his will, began to descend, though it met resistance, repelled from merging with the body. Ye Hua knew the soul and his essence were initially incompatible, but he exerted all his strength. Slowly, the soul drifted onto the bird’s body, merging within, the two gradually becoming one.

Ye Hua relaxed, knowing he had succeeded. At that moment, the world spun, darkness overtook him, and he collapsed unconscious.