Chapter 5 - Twelve Heartbeats
A wave of boos and jeers erupted from the assembled disciples.
"How pathetic!" someone shouted. "He's a coward!" another voice chimed in. "What a disgrace to the sect!"
I could see the spiky-haired girl shaking her head in disappointment, while the drug dealer was already taking bets on how many seconds I'd last if I did accept.
The red aura around Li Hu intensified, and I could feel the murderous intent from it even from where I was standing. "You dare refuse?" he hissed, his composure finally cracking. "Are you a man or a mouse? Do you have no honor?"
"I am injured," I said to a fresh wave of boos. "I am still recovering from my… altercation… with your cousin. It would not be a fair fight."
"You—!"
"Enough!" Instructor Bai interrupted, stepping forward and glaring at Li Hu. "He is right, Disciple Li. A deathmatch challenge can be refused if one of the parties is injured. It is sect law." He gave me a long, hard look, his eyes narrowing. "However," he added, "a promotion challenge cannot. And since you, Disciple Li, have just been promoted, you are entitled to a spar. A non-lethal spar. Disciple Wei, you will face him. Now get on the platform."
I didn't get on the platform. I didn't get on the platform because I was trying to come up with a convincing argument for why I should be excused from any and all forms of physical activity for the foreseeable future.
Unfortunately, nothing came to mind.
"Disciple Wei," Instructor Bai said, his voice dangerously low. "Do not test my patience. Get. On. The. Platform."
Well, shit.
I sighed inwardly and reluctantly trudged toward the sparring platform. When I was halfway there, I stopped, turning to face Instructor Bai. "Honorable Instructor," I said, bowing slightly. "With all due respect, I believe a spar between a First Realm and a Second Realm disciple is… a waste of everyone's time. Disciple Li Hu is clearly superior in every way. However, if I must fight, I propose a condition."
Again, my new polite tone seemed to catch everyone off guard. It gave me just enough time to finish my pitch. "I will face him, but only for five heartbeats. If I can remain standing on this platform for five of your heartbeats, Instructor Bai, then I win. If I am knocked off or incapacitated before then, he wins. What do you say?"
"I say you shut your mouth and get ready to fight," Instructor Bai growled. "This isn't a marketplace for you to haggle. The rules are simple. You fight until one of you is unable to continue. Now get in position."
Yeah… no. I was not doing that. "With all due respect, Instructor Bai, I believe my proposal is a reasonable one," I insisted. Then, on a whim, I added, "my dear sister has spent a great deal of resources on my recovery. I would hate for her efforts to be wasted on a pointless spar that reopens my wounds. Surely, you understand."
It was a huge risk. If Instructor Bai was one of those hard-asses who didn't give a damn about sect politics, this could backfire spectacularly. But judging by the way his eye twitched at the mention of Wei Ling's name, I knew I'd hit a nerve.
Honestly, thank God for the OP core disciple sister card. Five seconds of this was far less than the 'until you cannot continue' option.
Instructor Bai seemed to struggle with himself for a moment, his face contorting in a silent battle between his desire to see me get pulverized and the headache he'd get from Wei Ling if I ended up in the infirmary again. Finally, he let out a frustrated sigh. "Twenty heartbeats," he grumbled. "You have twenty of my heartbeats to survive. And I want a real fight, not a pathetic display of cowardice. Do you understand?"
Twenty seconds? That was way too long. "Ten," I countered, pushing my luck.
"Twelve heartbeats!" he snapped back. "And that's my final offer! Now get on the damn platform before I throw you off this mountain myself!"
"Of course, Instructor," I said quickly, giving him a deep bow. "We have a deal." I rushed to the center of the platform before he could change his mind. "So are you going to count, Instructor Bai, or use a timekeeper, or…?"
They actually did have some pretty accurate devices for measuring time in this world, usually powered by some sort of spiritual energy. I wasn't sure if their "second" was exactly the same as Earth's, but it was close enough for practical purposes. I guess he'd use one of those, if he had one on hand.
For some reason, though, Instructor Bai was staring at me like he'd never seen a bigger idiot in his life. Then, he smiled. A rather evil smile.
Without any preamble, he casually pulled off his outer robe and tossed it to one of the nearby disciples, revealing a bare, muscular torso crisscrossed with scars. I stared in confusion at the wrinkled old body that would nonetheless put most bodybuilders to shame. The man was literally a wall of meat, and the scary thing was, he wasn't even channeling any Blood Qi into his muscles. It was just that he was naturally that ripped. Even Wei Fan's body, fifty years younger than this old fossil, couldn't even hope to compare.
But then I noticed the faint, rhythmic pulsing of Blood Qi emanating from his chest.
What the hell…?
Was he actually going to use his own heartbeat as the timer…?
There was a loud "thump" that echoed throughout the courtyard.
His chest cavity was literally glowing red. The ground was trembling.
Everyone waited in silence for what felt like an eternity.
Then, THUMP!
Another pulse, louder and deeper this time.
I gawked in disbelief.
"That was one," Instructor Bai said, his evil smile widening. "Take your positions. Start your warm-ups. The spar begins on my fourth heartbeat."
…Jesus Christ. This was going to take forever. The man had a resting heart rate of, like, two beats per minute. Twelve heartbeats would take at least six minutes. Six minutes of this was an eternity.
Fucking hell. This piece of shit had played me like a damn fiddle. He now had an excuse for Wei Ling to not chew him out later, and he still got his long, drawn-out entertainment.
I turned to Li Hu, who was already circulating his Blood Qi, his muscles swelling and veins bulging grotesquely as the red aura around him became more pronounced. I began circulating Blood Qi as well. The "warm-up" routine was, thankfully, simple: just circulate the Blood Qi through the whole body for a couple of cycles. But I needed that warm-up. As a pathetic First Realm I needed some time to get the rusty old gears turning, so to speak.
It didn't take too long, though. My face quickly started to flush and my body began to tremble slightly. I could feel the blood pounding in my ears, the wind on my skin, the heat radiating from Li Hu's body.
I felt like I could bench press a small car. It was the first time since arriving in this world that I genuinely appreciated the effects of Body cultivation.
To be honest, I could see the appeal, but I still wanted no part of it in the long run.
THUMP!
Third heartbeat. One more to go. I had a crazy impulse to drop the useless Blood Qi circulation and start circulating my Dream Qi, but I resisted it. Using an untested technique mid-spar was a recipe for disaster.
Li Hu turned to me. "You know," he said, his voice surprisingly calm now that the initial theatrics were over, "I don't hate you, Wei Fan. I don't even care that you treat everyone around you like dirt. What I care about is that you got my cousin killed. He had a family. A wife and a son. And now they have no one." He paused, his expression hardening. "He was innocent, and you allowed your sister to murder him over a few bruises. You stood by and did nothing. That is a sin that cannot be forgiven."
"I understand," I replied truthfully. Wei Fan was a piece of shit, and while I had nothing to do with his actions, I had inherited the consequences. "And I am sorry for your loss. But your cousin was not innocent."
Li Hu's eyes narrowed. "What did you say?"
"Your cousin was trying to kill me," I replied simply. "He wasn't just giving me a few bruises. He was going to beat me to death. If my sister hadn't intervened, I would be dead. And your cousin would be the murderer."
"Lies!" Li Hu snapped. "My cousin was an honorable man! He would never kill a fellow disciple in cold blood!"
I shrugged. "Believe what you want. But I know what happened. And I know that if the roles were reversed, you wouldn't be standing here demanding justice for me."
Li Hu was silent for a moment, his jaw working as if he was chewing on my words. He seemed to be genuinely considering what I'd said. It was a surprising reaction. I'd expected him to just fly into a rage and start swinging.
"It doesn't matter," he finally said. "Your sister is a monster. She must be stopped before she kills again. The Li clan will stop her. We already have the support of half the sect elders. It's only a matter of time."
I frowned at that. "What do you mean by half the sect—"
THUMP!
"BEGIN!"
Li Hu exploded into motion before Instructor Bai could even finish the word, his fist a blur of red light as he charged towards me. I barely had time to raise my arms in defense before his fist slammed into my guard, sending a shockwave of pain through my entire body. My Blood-Iron Carapace technique was activated, but his fist was still stronger than the Blood Qi-reinforced flesh. It was almost completely useless.
My feet skidded backward across the stone platform, barely managing to maintain my balance. I let myself skid all the way towards the edge of the platform, hoping to be pushed off it and end the spar as quickly as possible. But Li Hu wasn't having it. He was too smart to fall for such a simple trick. He channeled Blood Qi into his feet, digging his heels into the ground and stopping his momentum, then exploded forward once again, quickly overtaking me and catching me by the collar before dragging me back towards the center of the platform.
He slammed my body into the ground with enough force to rattle my teeth, and then tried to stomp down on my chest with his full weight. I rolled out of the way just in time, only a fraction of a second away from having my ribcage turned into a fine red mist.
I tried to use Blood Steel Palm to push myself up, but I fucked up the Qi channeling and only managed to activate it halfway. My body jerked awkwardly, and Li Hu took advantage of my momentary stumble to slam his knee into my face.
Only a split second of instinctual application of Blood-Iron Carapace saved me from a broken nose, but the impact still sent stars dancing across my vision. I stumbled backward again, spitting out blood and trying to clear my head, only to eat another fist to the gut. Somehow, I managed to return the favor with another awkwardly channeled Blood Steel Palm that grazed his cheek, which actually managed to stagger him back a step. He grunted in annoyance, but otherwise seemed completely unfazed. This guy was a fucking tank.
It wasn't completely useless, though. I finally had a moment to breathe.
I was catching my breath while retreating in a circle on the platform's edge, when I realized that my hand was starting to feel like it was turning to mush. I glanced at it, and my eyes widened at the sight of the red, angry swelling. It kept swelling and swelling until it was almost a basketball in size.
Oh shit. I'd fucked up the Blood Steel Palm technique so badly that I created some kind of deadly positive feedback loop. The already activated Blood Steel Palm was drawing more blood into the fist, but it was being blocked by the clumsy channeling, causing it to lock in the technique even more. It was like a balloon being pumped past its breaking point. In another minute or so, my hand was going to explode.
Li Hu seemed to notice my distress, because he did not follow up with another attack. Instead, he stood still, and gave me a chance to recover.
THUMP!
Was that just the second heartbeat? Seriously? This was going to be the longest twelve heartbeats of my life.
"Pathetic!" Instructor Bai spat. "You can't even handle a First Realm technique properly. You are a disgrace to this sect, Wei Fan!"
Uh… considering that this was technically my first time using the Blood Steel Palm, I thought I was doing pretty well. It wasn't exactly easy to master a complex Qi channeling technique while simultaneously getting your face caved in.
My hand didn't end up exploding. The ballooning stopped a few seconds later when I finally managed to disrupt the positive feedback loop by cutting off the Blood Qi supply. But now my hand was throbbing like a jackhammer, and I could barely feel my fingers. I was pretty sure I'd sprained something.
"Li Hu," Instructor Bai growled. "You shame yourself by toying with him. Finish it. Show us what a Second Realm disciple on the Crimson Blade Path is truly capable of."
I really didn't like the sound of that.
Li Hu nodded, his gaze hardening once again. He took a deep breath, and the blood-red aura around his body flared up like a supernova.
I blinked in surprise.
And then I realized what was happening.
No way… He wasn't going to…
Yep, he was.
A hole burst open in Li Hu's chest and a massive, crimson blade withdrew from it with a sickening squelch. It was dripping with Blood Qi. Blood QI, and literal blood. The blade was easily twice as long as he was tall, and it thrummed with so much power that the air around it shimmered.
He must have used almost every drop of blood in his body to generate that thing. The amount of strain he was putting on his heart was insane. I could see the blood vessels in his eyes bulging, and his face was starting to turn an unhealthy shade of purple. If he fucked up and lost control of the technique, he'd probably kill himself. That much blood had to return to his body somehow, and if it didn't, he'd die from blood loss.
But it wouldn't happen. It wouldn't happen because he could simply use this blade to cut me in half first, and there was nothing I could do to stop it.
Which thankfully meant that the spar was over by all practical accounts. I couldn't defend myself, so that meant Instructor Bai would have to call it off.
I sighed in relief that it was finally over, holding my swollen hand with my good one. I was lucky. It ended as fast as it could have. Sure, I'd taken a beating, but I was still in one piece.
I eyed Instructor Bai, waiting for him to end the spar. Then, I turned my attention back to the impressive Blood Qi blade that Li Hu was currently remote controlling.
That was the main difference between a Second Realm and a First Realm Body cultivator. The Second Realm was where you started projecting Qi outside your body. First Realm Body cultivators could only circulate Blood Qi through their muscles to strengthen their physical attributes. Second Realm Body cultivators, however, could condense and project their Blood Qi into the environment. It was a massive leap in power.
And I was completely powerless to defend against it.
"Finish it," Instructor Bai said, nodding his approval. "Show us the true power of The Crimson Blade Path."
Huh?
What the hell?
I stared at him in disbelief. Was he willing to let me get maimed or killed during a non-lethal spar just to prove a point? The sheer insanity of this sect was staggering.
Yeah, fuck that.
"I yield," I said, raising my hand in a clear gesture of surrender. "It's over. I can't defend against that. You win."
Li Hu, seemed to waver for a moment, his grip on the crimson blade faltering. He was now pale as a ghost, and sweat dripped down his face in torrents.
"Your choice, Disciple Li," Instructor Bai said. "You can accept his surrender, or you can finish the spar. The rules state that a spar ends when one of the participants is unable to continue. He is still standing. He is still able to continue."
No way… No way was this actually happening. I watched Li Hu's face hardened, his eyes burning with fanatical intensity.
I glanced at Instructor Bai, who was smirking like a goddamn sadist, and then back at my good 'friend' the drug dealer, who was now frantically waving spirit stones in the air and shouting increasingly larger bets. The spiky-haired girl was shaking her head in disgust. Everyone was waiting to see me get slaughtered. No one here was going to lift a finger to help me.
I was going to die. I was going to get murdered for crimes committed by some asshole who wasn't even me, and there wasn't a damn thing I could do about it.
The massive crimson blade, the titular Crimson Blade of the Crimson Blade Path, was raised high above Li Hu's head. He took a deep breath, and the veins on his neck bulged like thick, purple cords. "Goodbye, Wei Fan," he said, his voice a strained whisper. "May you rot in the Nine Hells for your sins."
"W-wait a second," I stammered, shocked into a blank terror. "This is just a spar. There's no need to—NO! DON'T! STOP! STOP!" I screamed in horror.
Li Hu swung the Crimson Blade down.
I dropped the useless Blood Qi circulation and focused all my attention on my Upper Dantian.
I had no idea what I was even doing.
For a second, it was as if I were watching myself from outside my body. I was staring at myself standing in the center of the platform with my back turned to the setting sun, sweat dripping down my face as I stared at my reflection in the crimson blade.
Then, I was back inside my body again, and I instantly shoved every little bit of Dream Qi that I could muster into that single, almost invisible connection between my brain and my spinal cord. I didn't bother with any fancy channeling methods. I just brute-forced it, flooding my Mind meridians with raw, untamed Dream Qi, letting it surge down along the spinal cord and back up again, completing a single, desperate cycle.
The world slowed to a crawl.
My back tingled with an odd, static-like electricity, and my senses sharpened to an almost painful degree. Everything went silent.
The blade came crashing down, and I simply side-stepped it.
The crowd gasped.
The blade went for my neck next, and I turned my head just enough to avoid it, feeling the wind of it slice past my ear.
The world sped up slightly, and I almost lost control of the Dream Qi circulation.
And yet, it was still enough for me to dodge the next attack.
And the next one.
And the one after that.
I was in the fucking zone.
I was completely, utterly, untouchable.
/-/
Instructor Bai could only stare in disbelief as that brat Wei Fan, that worthless, talentless, good-for-nothing piece of trash, dodged Li Hu's Crimson Blade technique not once, not twice, but five times in a row. The boy wasn't fast, not in the muscle-ripping way of a Body cultivator. He was just… not where the blade was. Every time Instructor Bai thought he would surely have to step in and stop the spar before Li Hu accidentally decapitated Wei Fan, the little bastard would shift just enough to avoid getting hit.
Bai hadn't even planned on letting things get this far. As a Peak Third Realm Body cultivator, it was easily within his power to dismantle Li Hu's pathetic attempt at a Crimson Blade construct with a single flick of his own Blood Qi. It wouldn't have been the first time he'd intervened in one of these sparring matches to prevent any serious injuries.
But he hadn't, this time. He wanted to push the brat, to humiliate him in front of everyone, and teach him a lesson about overstepping his bounds. Actually letting the little shit die, though tempting, would have been far too much trouble. His sister Wei Ling would undoubtedly rain hellfire down upon the sect if anything happened to her precious brother, and while Bai was confident in his ability to handle her in such a scenario, the paperwork and political fallout would simply be too irritating to deal with.
Besides, as much as Wei Fan was a useless waste of resources, he was still technically a disciple of the Crimson Blade Sect. Bai didn't enjoy wasting potential recruits, no matter how dismal that potential might be.
And so, he used his Eye of Clarity to carefully track the movements of the two combatants, ensuring that Li Hu's attacks didn't accidentally sever any limbs or vital organs. The Eye of Clarity was a Third Realm Body technique that allowed him to improve his eyesight to a level that he could clearly see the Blood Qi flowing through the disciples' meridians, and even, with enough concentration, trace the minute movements of their muscles and bones.
Which was how he was able to see the impossibility of what was happening before him.
Wei Fan wasn't circulating Blood Qi at all.
That wasn't to say his Blood Qi had stopped completely—every Body cultivator automatically circulated some Blood Qi through vital organs to maintain enhanced physical resilience—but it was clear that he wasn't actively channeling it into any techniques or augmentations.
Which was impossible. Simply impossible.
Bai's first thought had been demonic possession. Wei Fan had almost died recently, and it wasn't unheard of for desperate or dying cultivators to make pacts with demons to save their sorry hides. Wei Fan certainly seemed like the kind of spineless fool who would beg a demon for help if it meant saving his own skin.
But that couldn't be it. Pill Master Zhao, the old codger, would have tested Wei Fan thoroughly for demonic corruption during his treatment in the infirmary.
So if not demonic possession, then what? Bai glanced at Disciple Lin Tao, the weasel responsible for supplying half the outer sect with low-grade cultivation enhancers. It was possible that Wei Fan had somehow gotten his hands on a rare stimulant. Possible, but extremely unlikely. Such pills were too expensive to be wasted on a First Realm trash. And even if he had used something like that, the effects wouldn't last long enough to make any real difference, not against a Second Realm cultivator like Li Hu wielding a fully formed Crimson Blade technique.
But no matter.
Whatever the truth was, one thing was clear: Bai was being made a fool of. And he did not appreciate being made a fool of.
He would get to the bottom of this, one way or another.
It didn't take long for whatever Wei Fan was doing to take its toll. The boy was starting to sweat profusely, and his movements were becoming sluggish. Technically, there were still eight heartbeats left, but the time limit was a farce anyway—Bai could have slowed down his heart rate to the point where the match would have lasted until the next morning. In truth, he'd just been waiting for an excuse to call it off without looking like he was favoring the brat.
And now he had his excuse.
Before Li Hu could finish his next swing, Bai jumped onto the platform and slammed his foot down with enough force to send a shockwave rippling through the stone. Both boys were thrown off balance, Li Hu's massive crimson blade dissipating into a shower of bloody mist as he staggered backward. Losing so much blood would have been devastating under normal circumstances, but luckily for Li Hu, Bai was there, and he immediately infused a pulse of his own Qi into the shower of blood, forcing it to return to Li Hu's body in a controlled stream. The boy gasped and collapsed to his knees, clutching his chest and trembling from the strain.
"The match is over," Bai declared. "It's a draw."
He ignored Li Hu's pathetic protests as he strode over to Wei Fan, grabbing him by the scruff of his neck. The boy had the nerve to glare at him—glare!—as if Bai had somehow wronged him. The insolence!
"Here, swallow this." He handed Wei Fan a small, black pill. "It will stabilize your Qi and help with the internal damage."
Wei Fan's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "What is it?"
"A Blood Stabilizing Pill," Bai grunted impatiently. "Do you want it or not? You will participate in the drills with the rest of us either way, so I suggest you take it."
Wei Fan seemed to weigh his options for a moment, then snatched the pill and swallowed it dry. A wise choice. Bai wasn't lying; the pill was exactly what he said it was. A standard-issue, low-grade recovery aid. Of course, it also had a minor, completely harmless side effect of making the user's Qi flow slightly more… transparent for the next few hours. A useful diagnostic tool for a concerned instructor wanting to check on his disciple's well-being.
"Good, now get back in formation," Bai ordered, shoving Wei Fan towards the ranks of the First Realm disciples. He then turned to address the still-stunned crowd. "The entertainment is over! I want to see a thousand repetitions of the Iron Mountain Fist, and I want to see them done perfectly! Anyone who slacks off will be doing an extra five hundred! Now MOVE!"
"A thousand repetitions?!" Wei Fan had the gall to complain. "But I'm—"
"Wei Fan!" Bai barked. "Fifteen hundred repetitions for you, for questioning my authority. Do you want to make it two thousand?"
He watched with satisfaction as, surprisingly, Wei Fan shut his mouth and fell back into line. The boy was still bleeding from his nose, and his left hand was swollen to twice its normal size.
Good.
"You call this an Iron Mountain Fist?" Bai roared not five seconds later, smacking Wei Fan across the back of the head with enough force to make him stumble. "You look like a drowning chicken! Put some power into it! Channel your Qi! Are you trying to tickle your opponent to death?!"
"No Instructor, I simply—"
Bai smacked him again. "Do not talk back to me, you worthless maggot! Do you think you're special just because you managed to survive a few hits from a Second Realm? You are nothing! You are less than nothing! You are a speck of dust in the vast cosmos of cultivation, and you will be treated as such! Now drop and give me five hundred push-ups! On one finger! NOT THAT FINGER, ON YOUR PINKY, YOU USELESS PIECE OF TRASH! YES, LIKE THAT! ONE, TWO, THREE, FOUR..."
Oh, that felt good. That felt really good, in fact.
It was about time this insolent brat learned some discipline.
Chapter 6 - The Price of a Sick Day
By the time Evening Drills were finally over, I was pretty sure I had coughed up at least one of my lungs. My entire body felt like a giant, throbbing bruise, and my pinky finger was probably broken. I was a wreck. A complete and utter wreck.
I just wanted to crawl back to my room and die.
Unfortunately, I had company.
"You really need to tell me how you pulled that off, brother." It was Lin Tao, the drug dealer. He had his arm slung around my shoulders and was grinning at me like we were best friends. I didn't like the way he was looking at me. It was the look of a vulture circling a dying animal. "You've been holding out on us, haven't you? Got your hands on some of that good stuff from the Central Plains, eh? The kind that makes you see the future?"
"I don't know what you're talking about," I grunted, trying to shrug his arm off. I was barely able to limp back to the outer disciple quarters, and this guy was making it ten times harder. "I just got lucky."
He laughed, a wheezing, unpleasant sound. "Lucky? Don't insult my intelligence, Brother Wei. Luck had nothing to do with it. That was a Grade Five 'Flowing Shadow' pill, wasn't it? Or maybe even a 'Dragon's Insight' elixir? Come on, you can tell me. I'm your friend."
He was my 'friend' the same way a loan shark was your 'financial advisor'.
"I told you, I don't know," I said, my voice sharper this time. "Now get off me." I shoved him away with as much force as I could muster, which wasn't much.
"Whoa! What's gotten into you?" Lin Tao said, taking a step back and holding up his hands in mock surrender. "Just a simple question, man. Don't get your topknot in a twist. Oh, wait, you don't have one anymore. Seriously, what's with the hair? Did you lose a bet?"
"I didn't lose a bet," I replied evenly. "But you certainly did, didn't you? I saw you waving those spirit stones around. How much did you lose?"
It was easy enough to see what the guy was trying to do. He'd lost a lot of money betting against me during the sparring match, and now he was desperate to figure out how I'd pulled off my little "miracle." It didn't help that Wei Fan owed him a substantial amount of spirit stones for previous dealings.
His fake smile didn't quite crumble, but it was a close thing. "Ah, well, a man of business must take risks," he said, trying to sound nonchalant. "Sometimes they pay off, sometimes they don't. Speaking of which, about that debt you owe me..."
"I'll pay you back," I said, cutting him off. "When I have the money."
"Of course you will!" He clapped me on the shoulder again, a little too hard for my liking. "I know you're good for it. Heard your sister's been covering your expenses lately. Must be nice, having a rich, powerful sister to bail you out of trouble." He winked. "Maybe you could ask her for a little loan? Just to tide you over? She's just murdered some guy for you, so she must be in a good mood."
Jesus Christ. The level of manipulation this guy was operating on was almost comical. "My sister isn't a murderer," I said. "It was self-defense. And I'm not asking her for anything. I'll get you your money. Just give me some time."
Well that was just embarrassing. 'I'll get you your money, I swear!' I sounded like some washed-up gambler in a bad mob movie.
I sighed defeatedly.
I guess I was allowed some pathetic moments, considering I'd just barely survived a homicidal sparring match against a guy wielding a literal blood sword.
"Of course your sister is a murderer," Lin Tao scoffed, for some reason choosing to press on that particular point. "She's a cultivator. We're all murderers, more or less. It's just a matter of scale. You kill a man, you're a criminal. You kill a hundred men, you're a hero. You kill ten thousand men, you're a legend. Your sister's well on her way to becoming a legend." He winked. "And you, my friend, are her favorite excuse."
So now this guy fancied himself a philosopher too, did he? And here I thought he was just a scumbag drug dealer.
I was running out of patience.
"I'm going to bed," I said. "Leave me alone."
His hand landed on my shoulder before I could turn, gripping it tightly. He wasn't nearly as big as Li Hu, but I could still feel the strength in his fingers. Stronger than me for sure. He'd broken through to the Second Realm years ago, and it showed.
"You have one week, brother," he said cheerfully. "No pressure, just a friendly reminder. And in case you're wondering, the interest rate is ten percent. Per day. Compounded. You should really read the fine print on those loan agreements, Wei Fan." He finally let go, patting me on the cheek with a patronizing smile. "Sweet dreams."
I stared after him as he sauntered away, whistling a jaunty tune.
…fucking hell Wei Fan, you really did leave me with the most garbage life possible, didn't you?
I lowered my gaze to my mangled left hand. It was still swollen to twice its normal size, the skin an angry reddish-purple.
Tomorrow would be even worse. A full day of mandatory "lectures", followed by another round of Evening Drills. Rinse and repeat until I either collapsed from exhaustion or got myself killed during some insane sect mission. Clearly, a guaranteed way to become well-acquainted with those "nine hells" everyone kept talking about.
They weren't just figures of speech, by the way. They were actual, literal hells, nine of them, each more fucked-up than the last.
I had no intention of visiting any of them anytime soon.
No, I needed to be smart about this. I needed some time to recover and to do some research, because whatever the hell just happened on that platform today, it was clear I had stumbled onto something big.
But how? How could I possibly get some time off?
I thought about it for a moment, then slowly lowered my gaze back to my mangled hand.
It certainly looked terrible.
But… did it look terrible enough?
Huh.
Could I…?
Nah, that was way too crazy…
But actually…
Oh shit.
I sighed.
Well, this was going to suck…
I glanced around, making sure no one was watching, and then deliberately slammed my hand into a nearby stone wall.
Again, and again, and again.
About ten minutes later, when I was done cursing the heavens, the entire sect, and Wei Fan's entire ancestral lineage, I finally had what I needed—a hand so mangled that it looked like a piece of overripe fruit someone had run over with a cart.
Sadly, for a crazy sect like the Crimson Blade Sect, this kind of injury was likely still considered "minor" and "manageable."
So, inspired by the earlier Blood Steel Palm fuck-up, I pushed more Blood Qi into the hand and deliberately screwed up the channeling, causing the ballooning effect to return, even worse than before. I only cut off the Qi supply when the skin started to feel like it was about to split open.
That was when it finally looked legitimately gruesome enough to warrant a trip to the infirmary, and a note from the Sect Elder excusing me from all duties for at least a week.
I smeared some dirt over it for extra dramatic effect, and stumbled my way toward the infirmary.
Only the thought of a week of rest and recovery kept me going.
They had to give me at least that much time off after seeing this monstrosity, right? Maybe even two weeks if I sold it well enough.
Yeah… that sounded good. That sounded really, really good.
/-/
"You have one day off," the old healer grunted not five minutes later, wrapping my hand in a fresh bandage. "And that's only because I'm feeling generous. I've seen disciples lose entire limbs and be back on the training grounds the next morning. You'll live."
I stared at him, speechless. "One day? But… look at it! It's… it's a medical marvel of mangled flesh!"
He scoffed. "It's a sprain. A bad one, I'll grant you, but nothing a Grade Two Revitalization Ointment can't fix. Stop being a baby. I've already applied it. Now get out of my infirmary. I have actual patients to attend to."
A Grade Two Revitalization Ointment…?
…
I hated this sect. I truly, truly hated this sect.
Chapter 7 - The Outer Disciple Library
As much as I hated the fact that my genius "sick day" scheme had been completely ruined by a bullshit magical ointment, I had to admit, the stuff was impressive. The swelling in my hand had gone down significantly in about twelve hours, and the angry purple had faded to a dull bruise. It still hurt like a son of a bitch, but at least I could move my fingers again.
Which, frankly, was a medical miracle, and I was not happy about it.
Still, I did get one official day off from the madness, and I intended to make the most of it.
So, I headed straight for the Outer Disciple Library.
It wasn't much of a library, really. More like a dusty, forgotten storage room filled with moldy scrolls and bamboo slips that looked like they'd crumble to dust if you so much as breathed on them. The "librarian" was (you guessed it) another surly, ancient elder who was either asleep or dead, I couldn't tell which. He didn't stir as I tiptoed past him, so I took that as permission to proceed. The only other person in the room, a young female servant who was sweeping the floor, immediately flinched and looked away when she saw me, as if I was about to explode on her for no reason.
I was pretty sure she was aware of Wei Fan's reputation, hence the palpable discomfort. I gave her a polite nod that she pointedly ignored, and I moved toward the shelves.
My first priority was to find a manual on Mind cultivation. Any manual. Even a basic, introductory one would be better than fumbling around in the dark. Unfortunately, as expected, there was nothing. The library was ninety-nine percent Body cultivation manuals, with a few token scrolls on Spirit and Soul cultivation thrown in for good measure. Mind cultivation was clearly not a popular subject in the Crimson Blade Sect.
Which was a big problem, because wasting time on Wei Fan's Body cultivation path was clearly not a viable long-term solution. That was something I had come to realize during last night's existential spiral. Body cultivation was a dead end for me. Wei Fan's yellow-grade aptitude was barely enough to keep him afloat in the outer sect. My orange-grade aptitude was a death sentence. I'd never reach the Third Realm, let alone anything higher. I'd be stuck as a low-level grunt for the rest of my short life, a glorified meat shield for the sect's real talents.
But honestly, even if I was just as talented as Wei Fan had been, I still wasn't sure I would have had the motivation to continue on his path. Advancing in Body cultivation was mostly about breaking through limits by sheer force: breaking your bones to make them denser, tearing your muscles to rebuild them stronger, and subjecting yourself to all sorts of physical abuse that would make even the most sadistic personal trainers on Earth blush. All of which sounded absolutely horrendous to me. Not to mention that you also had to gorge yourself on absurd amounts of high-calorie food to sustain all that growth, and food in this world wasn't exactly free, especially not the high-quality, Blood Qi-infused meat required for a proper Body cultivator's diet. Wei Fan had spent most of his allowance on food, actually, and he was still perpetually hungry.
I hadn't even noticed it until now, with everything that had happened, but I was also perpetually hungry. My stomach was a bottomless pit that no amount of dried jerky could fill. I guess it made sense given that I probably weighed a good thirty kilos more than my old self, and it was all muscle.
But that was beside the point.
The point was that Body cultivation was out. That was not to say I would neglect it completely. I would still do the bare minimum to maintain Wei Fan's current level of strength, mostly because I was in a sect that specialized in it, and not participating in the mandatory drills would get me kicked out. But I wouldn't be actively trying to advance my Lower Dantian to the Second Realm. My time and energy would be better spent elsewhere.
Namely, on Mind cultivation.
If there had been any doubts about the potential of Mind cultivation, my spar with Li Hu had completely obliterated them. Wei Fan had spent months practicing a basic Body circulation technique and had barely made any progress. I, on the other hand, had managed to complete a full cycle of a completely new, self-discovered Mind circulation technique on my very first try, and the results had been nothing short of miraculous. I had to be a silver-grade talent, no doubt about it.
The question was, could I replicate that state again? Was it a one-time fluke, or was it something I could reliably tap into? I would have already tested it this morning, but my Upper Dantian was still close to depleted from the spar, and I needed to give it time to recover. That wasn't the only reason I hadn't tested it yet, though. That spinal cord meridian path I had discovered felt… raw. Like I had stressed it to its absolute limit. It was probably not a good idea to push it again so soon. What If I accidentally snapped it? Would it be the same as snapping my actual spinal cord? Would I end up paralyzed? I had no idea, and I wasn't keen on finding out.
So, with no Mind cultivation manuals to be found, I shifted my focus to my secondary objective: research. Specifically, research on anything and everything related to cultivation theory. I needed to understand the fundamentals. Wei Fan had a vague, surface-level understanding of cultivation, but he'd never bothered with the details. He was the kind of guy who'd just follow the instructions in a manual without ever questioning why or how it worked, so a lot of my inherited knowledge was incomplete or just plain wrong.
I needed to look at things with a fresh perspective.
I picked up a couple of scrolls with promising titles and sat down at one of the cracked wooden desks near the corner of the library. The writing in most of these scrolls was dense and florid, full of incomprehensible metaphors about the heavens, dragons, phoenixes, and other mystical nonsense. It took me almost an hour of frustrating reading before I finally came across a scrap of information that felt useful.
I laid out the scroll flat on the table and leaned closer, squinting at the faded ink.
-
On Wasted Potential, By Grand Elder Zhou Liang.
I write this not for the geniuses—they do not need it—but for the endless tide of mediocrity that floods the sect gates each year. Listen, and you may yet avoid a pathetic death.
Your first mistake is thinking the goal of the First Realm is to reach the Second. It is not. The goal is to build a foundation that does not shatter the first time you face a true opponent.
Do not be a fool who bloats his Dantian. Stuffing yourself with pills creates a swamp of impure Qi, not a reservoir of power. You are making yourself a fat, lazy pig ripe for slaughter. Stop.
Do not be a fool who dabbles in multiple Ways. Many lesser sects preach a dual approach, a lie perpetuated to produce expendable soldiers. Do not be swayed by their promises of swift power. True strength lies in specialization. Choose one Great Way, and one Great Way only. Body, Spirit, Soul, or Mind—it matters not which, so long as you are willing to devote your entire life to it.
Finally, do not be a fool who celebrates a tangled mess of meridians. A thousand weak streams do not equal one mighty river. Your body is a garden, not a weed patch. Prune the useless channels. The pain will be immense. The reward will be immeasurable.
Know that the average cultivator spends ten years in the First Realm. Some, through talent or fortune, ascend in five. Others, the truly pathetic, may linger for twenty. But the principle remains the same: the First Realm is where you forge the weapon. The Second Realm is where you learn to wield it.
Read this again.
And again.
If you still do not understand, then you are a waste of your sect's resources. Find the nearest cliff and make yourself useful to the beasts below. This Elder has no more words for you.
-
I let out a low whistle. "Damn, Elder Zhou, tell us how you really feel."
The man did not mince words. Still, despite the harsh tone, the advice was solid. It confirmed my suspicions about Wei Fan's shoddy cultivation. He was the very definition of a "fool who bloats his Dantian." He'd been taking low-grade stimulants from Lin Tao for months, trying to brute-force his way to the Second Realm. The result was a Lower Dantian full of sluggish, impure Blood Qi full of demonic taint that was undoubtedly slowing his progress and weakening his foundation. He'd also never pruned his meridians. Not once. His body was, indeed, a tangled mess of useless channels, which was probably why I'd had such a hard time channeling the Blood Steel Palm technique.
Now as far as focusing on one "Great Way", I was already on track there. The question was whether Wei Fan had already advanced enough in Body cultivation that it would interfere with my pivot to Mind cultivation. That was probably related to the advice of pruning meridians. The more dormant and useless meridians I could seal off, the more efficiently my Qi would flow through the ones that mattered.
But… did that mean I should consider completely shutting down Wei Fan's Body cultivation pathways? Would I immediately lose a significant amount of muscle mass and physical strength if I did that? Or would my body retain its current state while the Qi merely stopped amplifying it further? Was there a way to balance a partial shutdown without completely crippling myself in combat?
I kept reading through Elder Zhou's scroll, trying to glean more insights. The next helpful section delved into meridian blockages and the concept of "refining pathways." The text described a meditation technique called "Qi-washing," which involved slowly and painstakingly circulating a tiny, highly-condensed wisp of Qi through a blocked meridian to gradually wear away the impurities. It was a tedious, time-consuming process that required immense focus and patience, but it was also the safest and most effective method for clearing blockages without damaging the meridian itself. Zhou Liang hadn't mentioned any specific techniques for Mind meridians, but the general principle should be the same.
I immediately closed my eyes and gave it a try. I condensed a tiny wisp of Dream Qi into a needle-thin thread and began gently pushing it against one of the more congested blockages in my brain. It was like trying to drill through solid rock with a toothpick. After a full minute of intense concentration, I'd barely made a dent.
But I kept at it, referencing the scroll's instructions and experimenting with different levels of pressure and Qi density. After what felt like an eternity, but was probably closer to ten minutes, I felt a tiny crack form in the blockage. A minuscule trickle of Dream Qi seeped through.
Honestly, pretty disappointing result for so much effort, but it was progress.
In fact, I just needed to clean a single complete loop. That's all. Once I had one clean, unobstructed pathway, I could activate another Mind circulation technique. I was pretty sure the effect would be different from the spinal cord version, as this one followed the standard Mind meridian pathways, but I had no idea what that effect would be. Which only made me more eager to find out.
I sighed and settled in for the long haul.
A while later, when I felt like I couldn't concentrate on Qi-washing anymore (and my head was pounding like a war drum), I stood up and stretched, my back cracking loudly in the silent library. The dead/asleep elder hadn't moved an inch, and the servant girl was now dusting a far corner of the room, still pointedly avoiding my gaze. I glanced at the position of the sun through a grimy window; it was already late afternoon. I'd been here for hours.
Well, it was my one day off. Might as well make the most of it. I proceeded to memorize the steps for the Qi-washing technique as best as I could, regretting that I hadn't brought any paper with me to take notes, and then moved on to another scroll, a tattered volume titled "A Compendium of Demonic Beasts of the Burning Maw Valley."
Since I would be spending the foreseeable future in this volcanic hellscape, it seemed prudent to learn about the local fauna. Especially the kind that wanted to eat my face.
So, I did just that.
It wasn't a pleasant read.
By the time I was done reading about all sorts of horrifying creatures that could maim, poison, or outright devour me, the sun was already dipping below the horizon. The servant girl lit a few more oil lamps around the room, and then opened the creaking wooden shutters to let in the cool evening air. The Senior Librarian was still snoring away in the corner, his head lolling to one side and a thin line of drool pooling on the desk beneath him.
I was about to open my mouth and ask about the library's closing time when the door creaked open, and another servant walked in. Ming Zhu. The girl from the koi pond.
She glanced at me, and I thought I saw a flicker of surprise before her face returned to its usual blank mask. She walked over to the other servant, carrying a cloth-wrapped bundle in her arms. They exchanged a few whispered words, and then the first servant bowed and quickly left the library. Ming Zhu then turned her attention to the sleeping elder, gently shaking his shoulder. "Elder Yan," she said softly. "It is time for your evening—"
His hand snapped like a viper, almost grabbing her wrist, but she was somehow faster, pulling back just in time. The old man's eyes shot open, red-rimmed and furious. "Who dares disturb my slumber?!" he roared, his voice surprisingly powerful for someone who looked like a desiccated corpse.
"It is I, Ming Zhu, Honorable Elder," she said, bowing deeply. "I have brought your evening meal." She placed the cloth-wrapped bundle on his desk.
"Hmph. About time," he grumbled, snatching the bundle and tearing it open. He began stuffing his face with the contents; a steaming meat bun and a flask of what smelled like strong wine. When he was done not two minutes later, he grabbed the flask of wine and took a long swig, belched loudly, and then dropped his head back onto the desk and promptly fell asleep again.
I stared at the scene, completely bewildered. Ming Zhu didn't seem fazed in the slightest. She gathered up the discarded wrappings, wiped the drool off the desk with a rag, and then turned to me. "The library closes at the tenth hour, Young Master," she said, her voice still a flat monotone. "You have about two hours left." She pointed at a large incense clock in the corner of the room. It was a massive, ornate contraption with a dozen different colored incense sticks burning at varying speeds. "The red stick marks the tenth hour," she added like I was an idiot who couldn't read an incense clock. Well, I could, it wasn't that hard to figure out. A quick skim of Wei Fan's memories, however, revealed that he, in fact, could not read an incense clock. He could only read the fancy spirit crystal clocks that the richer disciples had in their rooms.
I shook my head at my predecessor's stupidity and muttered a quiet thanks to Ming Zhu, before turning my attention back to the scrolls. A thought had been bothering me since reading about the pruning of meridians earlier in Elder Zhou's writings. If you could theoretically "prune" your meridians to focus on specific pathways, could you also create new ones? Or grow existing ones? It seemed like a logical next step, but none of the texts I'd read so far had mentioned anything of the sort.
I turned my focus inward, feeling that tenuous connection between my brain and spinal cord. It still felt raw and overstressed, but it was definitely there. Could I make it more robust, somehow? Could I… thicken it? Grow more meridians alongside it, even?
It was definitely worth looking into. I began searching for anything related to meridian manipulation, meridian growth, or even just general anatomy. Another hour of mind-numbing reading later, I was slumped over the desk, my eyes glazed over and my brain threatening to shut down completely. I was starving, exhausted, and thoroughly demoralized. I hadn't found a single useful scrap of information about meridian growth, and my precious day off was coming to an end.
"Young Master," Ming Zhu said, making me open my heavy eyelids and slowly look up. "This servant wishes to clean the main desk."
"And this disciple wishes he was sipping wine on a beach in the Southern Isles," I grumbled, recalling Wei Fan's fantasies about becoming rich enough to abandon the sect entirely. "Guess we don't always get what we want, do we?"
Ming Zhu responded with a blink. Just a single, slow blink. Then, "you must move your scrolls."
"Sure, sure," I grunted, gathering up the pile of scrolls and moving them to an adjacent table. I was about to go back to my reading when I noticed Ming Zhu struggling to lift a heavy stack of bamboo slips from the corner of the desk. She was grunting with the effort, her face flushed and her arms trembling. Almost without thinking, I reached out and took the stack from her. "Here, let me get that," I said, lifting the heavy pile with ease. It wasn't even that heavy for me, thanks to my Body cultivator physique. In fact, it was just then that I noticed the ridiculous difference in our body sizes. I was at least a head and shoulders taller than her, and probably twice as broad. She was so… tiny.
"Thank you, Young Master," she said, again with that fake, wooden bow. "This servant is grateful."
I nodded and placed the stack on a nearby empty shelf. "No problem." I turned to leave, but then paused, thinking about the way she'd flinched when the elder had tried to grab her. "Does he… do that often?" I asked, gesturing vaguely at the sleeping librarian.
She didn't answer right away. She just stood there, her gaze fixed on the floor as she methodically wiped down the desk. "Elder Yan is a respected scholar," she finally said, her voice devoid of any emotion. "He is… eccentric."
"Well that doesn't mean he gets to grab people," I said, frowning. "If he ever tries anything like that again, you should report him to the Disciplinary Elder."
She stared at me like I was the stupidest person she'd ever met. Then, there was a flash of anger in her eyes, quickly suppressed, but I saw it. "A servant reporting an elder?" she said, raising an eyebrow. "Are you joking, Young Master?"
Well, she had a point. I wasn't sure why I'd even suggested it.
"Right," I muttered, feeling like an idiot. "Forget I said anything."
"No it's… it's alright," she replied. "Thank you for your concern, Young Master Wei Fan. It is... appreciated." She finished wiping the desk and turned to leave.
"I thought you were on cleaning duty," I said, unable to stop myself. "How come you're here now?"
"This servant has many duties," she replied without turning around. "The more duties I perform, the faster I can pay off my family's debt to the sect."
She was an indentured servant. Of course. It made perfect sense. Most of the servants in the Crimson Blade Sect were either indentured servants, war prisoners, or the children of disgraced cultivators. They were, in essence, slaves.
"So you're new to the sect?" I asked, trying not to sound too intrusive. I wasn't sure why I was even engaging in small talk with her. Maybe I just needed a distraction from the soul-crushing reality of my situation. Or maybe I was just lonely.
"I have been here for two weeks," she replied, her back still to me. "My family are merchants from the Central Plains. Our caravan was attacked by demonic beasts on the way to the Northern Territories. The Crimson Blade Sect saved us, but the price of our rescue was… steep."
Huh, that sounded awfully familiar. It appeared my earlier encounter with the Heavenly Skyblade disciple wasn't an isolated incident. Cultivators "requisitioning" goods and services from mortals seemed to be a common practice.
I got the sense that there was more to the story than Ming Zhu was letting on, but I decided not to press the issue. It wasn't my business, and she clearly didn't want to talk about it. Her shoulders were tense, and I could tell she was just waiting for me to dismiss her so she could get back to work.
"Sorry to hear that," I finally said, because what else could you say to someone who just told you they were essentially sold into slavery to pay off a debt? "Well, I'll let you get back to your duties. If you need help with anything heavy again, just ask."
She seemed to hesitate for a moment, then turned around to face me. "Young Master," she said, her voice calm. "I think you should know that your sister Wei Ling will receive her lashes tomorrow morning, at the fourth hour, in the Disciplinary Courtyard."
"What?" I asked, completely blindsided. "Lashes? What for?"
"For killing Disciple Li Qiang, of course," Ming Zhu said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "The elders ruled that while Li Qiang instigated the conflict, her response was excessive. Thirty lashes with the Blood-Thorn Whip. It is a public punishment."
Of course. The public whippings. Wei Fan had spent quite a bit of his free time watching those, actually. The Blood-Thorn Whip was a nasty piece of work, a priceless treasure that didn't just tear flesh but also injected a corrosive Blood Qi poison that inflicted excruciating pain and hindered healing. Thirty lashes with that thing would be enough to cripple a Second Realm cultivator for weeks, maybe even months. For a core disciple like Wei Ling, who was at the peak of the Third Realm, it would be… well, it would still be agonizing, but she would likely recover much faster.
One thought immediately came to mind: I had to be there for her.
She'd always been there for Wei Fan after his own public whippings, waiting with a fresh set of robes and a vial of healing elixir, even after he'd done something incredibly stupid to deserve it.
The piece of shit had never returned the favor.
"Thank you for letting me know," I said quietly, my throat dry.
Ming Zhu simply nodded and turned back to her cleaning duties without another word, leaving me alone with my thoughts.
I watched her work for a moment, wondering why on earth she had bothered to tell me, then glanced at the incense clock again.
Thirty minutes left until the library closed.
Just enough time to cram in one last desperate search for something useful.
I wouldn't have a chance to come back here for a while, after all.
Chapter 8 - No Pain, No Gain
I couldn't sleep.
It was becoming a trend.
A very unpleasant trend, I might add, because every sleepless night I spent in this world felt like it was aging me a decade.
Frankly, I wasn't even sure what the hell I was even doing anymore. And not in the sense of questioning why I was about to go watch my "sister" get publicly whipped—no, that part made sense. But in the sense of what I was planning to do next. I was going to watch her get whipped. Then what? Offer her a sympathetic hug and pat her on the back? Tell her everything was going to be okay? I wasn't even sure if she'd want me there. Maybe she'd prefer to suffer in silence, without having her worthless baby brother gawking at her misery.
Maybe I should just stay in bed.
I sighed and rolled over, staring up at the familiar cracks in the ceiling.
How well did I know Wei Ling, anyway? I'd seen her in Wei Fan's memories, of course, but those were just snapshots of past events. In reality, digesting his memories was more like watching a movie of someone else's life. It didn't mean I actually understood the people in this movie on a deeper level. I knew, for example, that Wei Ling liked sweet plum wine, that she had a scar on her left shoulder from a childhood accident, and that she had a weird obsession with collecting rare, brightly-colored feathers. I knew the facts, but I didn't know the why. Why the feathers? Why the overprotectiveness? Why the sudden, brutal murder of Li Qiang?
No idea.
So why did I care so much? Why did I care so much that she was about to suffer? Why did I care enough that I was about to drag myself out in the middle of the night to witness a public display of sadism, just to show my support for a woman who was practically a stranger to me?
I really had no clue.
And when I had no clue about something, I usually just stopped thinking about it and let whatever happened, happen. Most of my life decisions were based on that philosophy, and hey, I was still alive.
Or was I…?
I mean, technically I was dead, but you know what I mean.
Anyway, this time, much to my dismay, the "just stop thinking about it" approach didn't work. My brain refused to shut up.
And it wasn't the only thing refusing to shut up.
"Yes! Like that! Harder!" A woman's voice moaned from the adjacent room. "Oh gods, yes! Pound it, you beast! Pound my jade gate until it shatters!"
Wang Dong was back at it again.
And this time he had company.
"I will shatter your jade gate with my Heaven-Sundering Spear!" he roared, followed by a series of increasingly graphic and disturbing noises. "Feel the might of the Wang Clan's ancestral technique! Feel my yang essence infuse your yin! Tremble before my—"
"WILL YOU TWO SHUT THE HELL UP?!" I roared back, slamming my fist against the paper-thin wall. "SOME OF US ARE TRYING TO SLEEP, YOU DEGENERATE LUNATICS!"
"Is that you, Brother Wei?" Wang Dong's voice called back, sounding surprisingly cheerful. "Jealous, are we? Don't worry, I'll be done in a few more hours. My partner here has a particularly resilient Yin constitution, a true challenge for even a master of the dual cultivation arts such as myself!"
"I don't care!" I shouted. "JUST BE QUIET!"
There was a moment of blessed silence, followed by a giggle from the woman. "Is he always like this?" she whispered.
"Only when he's not getting any," Wang Dong replied with a chuckle. "Pay him no mind, my sweet lotus. Where were we? Ah, yes. The Heaven-Sundering Spear..."
"Oh for fuck's sake," I grumbled, giving up on sleep entirely. I was already wide awake, and my blood pressure was probably through the roof. I might as well get up and do something productive.
I glanced at the spirit crystal clock on the wall. Still three hours until the fourth hour. It was 1 AM, in Earth time. Three hours until I had to be at the Disciplinary Courtyard.
I stuck some cotton I'd ripped from my pillow into my ears and then sat down on my mat, quickly losing myself in the tedious process of Qi-washing my mind meridians.
Time slipped by as I painstakingly chipped away at the gunk clogging my brain.
Interestingly, the more I zoomed into my brain's meridian network and explored it, the more I realized how huge it truly was. It was like having an entire city of intricate highways, alleyways, and side streets crammed into your skull, and you could spend years just mapping it out. I couldn't really get "lost" in it, because snapping out of the meditative state was as simple as opening my eyes. But the issue was finding and also memorizing the pathways I worked on. Cleaning one pathway and then completely forgetting its location would be a colossal waste of time, so I started creating a mental map as I went along. It turned out that I was quite good at it, surprisingly. I developed a system where I categorized the meridians into main "routes" and smaller "branches," giving them simple names based on their position or shape. I also had to remember "turns" and "intersections" to avoid getting disoriented. It was a lot like playing one of those old-school RPGs where you had to draw your own maps on graph paper. Except in this case, the graph paper was my own brain, and the dungeons were full of gunk.
Anyway, after a full hour of intense focus, I had managed to clear around 3% of what I would call the "Northern Loop." It was a circular path that started near the center of my brain, curved up towards the top of my head, and then looped back down to reconnect with the starting point, my Upper Dantian.
And yes. 3%. Not 30%. Not 13%. A whopping three percent after an hour of work.
Worse, I was getting the sense that the blockages were actually getting harder to clear the further I went along. Almost like the gunk was magically regenerating, or that Wei Fan's brain had developed some kind of defense mechanism to prevent me from taking out the trash. Going by the pace I was making, and adjusting for the apparent difficulty scaling, it could take me a whole damn year to clear a single meridian loop. Even if my estimation was off by a factor of ten, that was still a month of round-the-clock work to achieve what? A single, measly circulation technique?
That was obviously unacceptable.
So… could I do anything to accelerate the process?
I gave it some thought.
Right now, the biggest obstacle slowing everything down was my lack of Dream Qi. The Qi-washing process consumed a lot of Dream Qi, and my Upper Dantian just wasn't producing enough to keep up. I had no idea whether there were meditation techniques that could accelerate the production of Dream Qi, or if such methods even existed for Mind cultivation in general. For Body cultivation, there were methods like consuming the Lower Dantian of spirit (often demonic) beasts, feasting on high-calorie food infused with Blood Qi, and subjecting yourself to physical stress that forced your body to generate more Qi. (And also, I guess, the obvious option of popping pills like there's no tomorrow, which was Wei Fan's favorite method.)
For regenerating Dream Qi, though, I wasn't sure what I needed to do. I had some theories, and I didn't like any of them. I'd have to put one of those theories to the test whenever the next sect mission rolled around, but for now, all I could do was wait for my Upper Dantian to slowly, very slowly, replenish its supply of Dream Qi.
Which was incredibly frustrating.
I'd hated the grind when I'd played video games back on Earth, and I hated it even more now that my actual life depended on it. Seriously, MMOs had nothing on cultivation. This was the most tedious, mind-numbing grind I had ever experienced.
There had to be a better way.
There just had to be.
I took a break from the unholy grind task of Qi-washing and decided to go over the scrolls I'd "borrowed" from the library. I'd managed to sneak two of them out under my robes, a risky move that could have gotten me a few lashes of my own if I'd been caught. But the Senior Librarian had been so deeply comatose that I could have probably walked out with the entire library on my back without him noticing. I thought Ming Zhu had noticed me taking them, but for some reason, I didn't think she would report me. I wasn't sure why I felt that way. It was just a hunch.
The scrolls were all from the same author, the aforementioned Grand Elder Zhou Liang, Third Seat of the Jade Serpent Pavilion. It was becoming apparent that he was an expert on all things cultivation, and his advice was actually useful unlike the majority of the cryptic bullshit I'd come across in other texts. I'd gone out of my way to grab anything with his name on it.
The 'Jade Serpent Pavilion,' despite the very brothel-esque name, was actually some kind of research institute based in the Central Plains, far to the south. Quite the prestigious place, from what I could ascertain. How a primitive sect like the Crimson Blade Sect had managed to acquire these scrolls was beyond me, but I wasn't complaining.
Unfortunately, I was complaining ten seconds later when I realized that one of the scrolls was dedicated entirely to flying swords. Apparently, Grand Elder Zhou Liang was a big, big fan of flying swords. The scroll meticulously documented every aspect of flying sword construction, maintenance, and combat techniques, complete with which 'brands' were better, which materials were stronger, and which polishing techniques were most likely to attract the ladies.
Okay, I was kidding about that last part, but the rest was true. It was a goddamn flying sword encyclopedia, and it was utterly useless to me.
-
On the Folly of the So-Called "Swordless" Path, By Grand Elder Zhou Liang
A flying sword is not merely a tool. It is an extension of the cultivator's will, a conduit for their Qi, a partner in their journey to the heavens. To forsake the flying sword is to forsake the very essence of cultivation. It is a path for fools, cowards, and those with a regrettable lack of aesthetic taste. Those who claim to have mastered the "Swordless" Path are either liars or deluded simpletons who have mistaken their inability to properly wield a blade for some kind of profound spiritual enlightenment. Do not be swayed by their empty rhetoric. A cultivator without a flying sword is like a bird without wings, a fish without water, a man without... well, you get the idea. It is an unnatural state of being, and it should be pitied, not emulated.
Indeed, you should begin training your child to handle a flying sword as soon as they are able to walk. Any respectable Third Realm cultivator is capable of infusing their Qi into objects, thus a Third Realm parent should be able to infuse a wisp of their Qi into a wooden toy sword, allowing their child to practice the basics of sword flight without the risk of accidental decapitation. This early training is crucial for developing a strong bond between the cultivator and their future weapon, and it will also give them a significant advantage over their peers in…
-
The rest of the scroll was just more of the same.
I honestly wasn't sure how he got to child rearing advice from ranting about the Swordless Path, but I guess the man was just that passionate.
He also wrote some practical advice on the actual act of sword-flying, which was apparently akin to snowboarding in that you needed to learn how to properly balance your weight and shift your center of gravity. I was actually pretty great at snowboarding, back on Earth, and I wondered if those skills would translate. It was a moot point, though. Flying swords were ridiculously expensive, and I was flat broke. Not to mention, I was a First Realm cultivator without the ability to infuse my Qi into objects, so there was that as well
I opened the second scroll, hoping for something at least remotely useful.
-
On Pruning Meridians and the Art of Self-Mutilation, By Grand Elder Zhou Liang.
Let us first dispel the most common and foolish notion held by the weak: that pain is an enemy to be avoided. Pain is not your enemy. Pain is but a message. It is your body's way of telling you that something is wrong. A wise cultivator listens to this message, understands its meaning, and then proceeds to ignore it completely. Why? Because pain is also a catalyst for growth. It is the fire that forges steel, the pressure that creates diamonds, the relentless chisel that carves a masterpiece from a rough block of stone. To fear pain is to fear progress. To avoid pain is to stagnate. To embrace pain… now that is the mark of a true cultivator.
There is no greater pain than the act of pruning one's own meridians. It is a process of self-mutilation, a voluntary descent into a personal hell of agony. And yet, it is a necessary hell. A crucible that separates the weak from the strong, the pretenders from the true masters of the Way. I estimate that less than one in a thousand cultivators have the fortitude to see it through to completion. The rest either give up, go insane, or die screaming.
The following are the specific meridian pathways that are best suited for pruning. You will easily be able to recognize thousands of such 'junk' meridians in your body, and eventually all of them should be pruned. The average First Realm cultivator has around a hundred thousand meridians across the four Great Ways. A Peak Third Realm cultivator who has diligently pruned their meridians might have less than a thousand. The difference in Qi flow efficiency is… staggering.
If you are of weak will, you will likely only be able to prune one meridian per day, at most. This will clearly not be enough to make any significant progress in a reasonable amount of time. But some pruning is better than no pruning. My advice to most of you is to aim for such a meager goal, if only to avoid the shame of giving up entirely.
Know that a hundred prunings a day is what a true genius can achieve. A thousand is the mark of a monster. And I, your Grand Elder, once pruned ten thousand in a single night.
-
Well… shit.
That sounded absolutely fucking horrible.
I looked at the diagrams that followed, depicting the exact types of meridians that were considered "junk" and the recommended… methods for severing them.
"Severing" wasn't a metaphor. The scroll literally instructed you to use a tiny, razor-sharp wisp of your own Qi to physically cut the meridian, then seal the wound with a burst of cauterizing energy. It probably hurt worse than sawing off your own arm.
And Zhou Liang was suggesting that a "true genius" could do this a hundred times a day.
Like… seriously, what the hell was wrong with these people?!
Jesus fucking Christ.
I read the opening paragraphs again, shaking my head in disbelief.
"The difference in Qi flow efficiency is… staggering."
That was actually exactly what I needed. If I could increase the flow of Dream Qi, then I could Qi-wash faster. Possibly a lot faster.
That was a big if, though.
I gave it a moment of serious consideration.
If I had a knife right now over my pinky, the useless pinky that was currently throbbing like a live wire after Instructor Bai had me do five hundred push-ups on it, would I be able to chop it off? Would I be able to chop it off for a way back home? For a million spirit stones? For eternal life?
I wasn't sure. I honestly wasn't sure.
Probably not.
So doing something like that not once, but a hundred times a day? A thousand times a day?
No fucking way.
I found myself reading the opening paragraphs again, almost hypnotized by the words despite how much I hated them.
Pain is but a message...
Hmm…
I raised my left hand and clenched it into a fist. Just two days ago, it'd been swollen to the size of a melon. I'd been able to control my Blood Qi to make it worse, but I'd also been able to make it better. I'd been able to deliberately cut off the flow of Blood Qi to the swollen area.
I did it again now. Controlling my blood to drain from the hand until it was pale and numb, then flooding it back in a rush.
Was I controlling my Blood Qi, or my actual blood? I honestly wasn't sure. Wei Fan's understanding of the Crimson Blade Path was that Blood Qi was an energy generated by the heart and stored in the Lower Dantian, and that it was separate from, but influenced by, the blood itself.
But was it really?
After all, no one could actually "see" Blood Qi. What cultivators saw was… blood. There was no Blood Qi without blood. Li Hu's Crimson Blade was literally made of blood.
What if Blood Qi was just a property of blood itself? What if the "Lower Dantian" was just… a reservoir of specially-conditioned blood?
But then… what did that say about my Dream Qi? Was it just electrical signals in my brain? Straight up action potentials from my neurons? Was my Upper Dantian nothing but a big battery that could store and discharge those signals at will?
But most importantly…
I clenched my left hand, and the blood drained from it.
I was able to block my blood flow.
Could I block the flow of pain signals?
Could I block the flow of pain signals to my brain?
I mean, I did have a meridian running along my spinal cord, the very highway for those signals…
So… maybe?
The moment the thought entered my mind, I couldn't let it go.
I had to give it a try.
Now.
Almost in a state of trance, I stood up from the bed focused inward. There was no Dream Qi in my spinal cord meridian that I could manipulate at the moment.
But that didn't mean I couldn't create a blockage.
I focused all my will on a single point in the meridian, a point below the base of my neck. I pulled some Dream Qi, what little I had, from my Upper Dantian and began gathering it at that point, condensing it, building a dam.
It wasn't easy. The Qi liked to flow. It resisted being held in place, squirming like a trapped eel. But I was persistent. I imagined a clamp, a tourniquet, a seal, anything that could stop the flow. And slowly, painstakingly, the Qi began to obey. It coalesced into a tiny, dense knot.
It wasn't enough. I could somehow tell that I needed to do something else. I needed to… I needed to pinch it? Not too hard, just enough to disrupt the flow.
I suddenly realized that I was shaking and sweating profusely. My head pounded with a dull ache, a side effect of overtaxing my depleted Dream Qi. This was a bad idea. A really, really bad idea. What if I fucked up and actually pruned my own spinal cord meridian? What if I ended up a drooling vegetable?
But… it was just a pinch. I wasn't using sharp razor-like Qi to sever anything. It was just a blunt compression. I had total control over my own Dream Qi, right? I could release the pressure at any moment.
Oh shit. I was really going to do this, wasn't I?
Please don't let me die, please don't let me die, please don't let me die…
I took a deep breath, and then, with a final surge of will, I pinched.
My legs gave out from under me.