Chapter 11 - Morning Lectures
Hard work. The two words I'd spent my entire previous life avoiding like the plague. The absolute bane of my lazy existence.
Case in point: You know those motivational posters with pictures of eagles soaring over mountains and cheesy slogans like "The only limit is the one you set for yourself"? Yeah, I was the guy who'd draw dicks on them. I was a firm believer in the path of least resistance, the art of the shortcut, the elegant efficiency of doing just enough to get by. I had a black belt in the ancient art of procrastination, and I was proud of it.
The Crimson Blade Sect, however, did not share my enlightened philosophy.
"Behold the Serpent Coil stance!" Elder Mao, our instructor for the morning's "lecture," announced with a dramatic flourish. He was a skinny older man with a smoothly polished bald head, no eyebrows, and a pointy goatee that made him look like a stereotypical evil kung fu master from a bad movie. He was currently standing on one leg, his other leg wrapped around his torso in a way that looked both painful and physically impossible.
"This stance," he continued, "is the foundational technique for cultivating the Serpent Fist Path. It is a path for weaklings who do not have the raw power to master the Crimson Blade Path. And yet we will be practicing it today. Why? Because the Serpent Fist Sect has recently declared war on us, for no reason other than the fact that their Sect Leader is a petty, insecure little man with a micropenis."
Some of the newer recruits laughed at that. I knew better than to even crack a smile. It was a test.
"Silence!" Elder Mao snapped. "Do you fools find the prospect of war amusing? Do you think this is a joke?" His eyes swept over the assembled disciples. There were around fifty of us in the courtyard, arranged in neat rows under the blistering morning sun. The sect had recently recruited a fresh batch of outer disciples, and it was painfully obvious that most of them had no fucking clue what they had signed up for. There were middle-aged men with pot bellies, scrawny teenagers who looked like they'd snap in half from a stiff breeze, and even two pregnant women who were clearly just here for the free room and board. They were all sweating, panting, and trying their best to look attentive, but I could see the fear in their eyes.
Except the two idiots still laughing in the back. Those two were going to have a rough day.
Elder Mao's eyes honed in on the idiots like heat-seeking missiles. "You two! Step forward! What is your name, disciple?"
The taller of the two, a smug-looking young man with a bad haircut, puffed out his chest and strode forward. "This disciple is called Wang Hao, Honorable Elder," he said with a smirk. "And this is my sworn brother, Zhao Jie."
"And what grades of Body aptitude did the heavens bestow upon you two geniuses?" Elder Mao asked.
"This disciple was blessed with a yellow-grade aptitude, Honorable Elder," Wang Hao declared proudly. "And my brother Zhao Jie, a high-yellow."
"A high-yellow, you say?" Elder Mao stroked his goatee thoughtfully. "Impressive. Truly impressive." He walked over to Wang Hao and circled him slowly. "Tell me, Disciple Wang. Do you know what we do with high-yellow geniuses in this sect?"
The young man's smirk faltered. "I… I do not, Honorable Elder."
"We feed them to enemy green-grade geniuses to soften them up for our blue-grade geniuses," Elder Mao said matter-of-factly. "Who, in turn, soften up the enemy silver-grade geniuses for our gold-grade geniuses." He stopped in front of Wang Hao, his face inches from the boy's. "And do you know what we do with mediocre, yellow-grade fodder like you?"
The boy swallowed nervously. "N-no, Honorable Elder."
"You, my boy, we throw at the enemy's walls to soak up their arrows," Elder Mao said, patting him on the cheek. "We use your corpses to build bridges over their moats. We send you on suicide missions to test their defenses. You are not disciples. You are ammunition. Do you understand?"
He didn't wait for an answer. With a speed that defied all logic for a man of his age, Elder Mao's hand shot out and grabbed Wang Hao by the collar. He lifted him off the ground effortlessly, shook him a bit, as if to make sure he was properly stirred, and then put him back down quite gently. The problem was that he put Wang Hao back upside down, dropping him on his head with a loud thud.
"However!" Elder Mao turned back to the rest of us, ignoring the twitching form of Wang Hao lying at his feet. "That is not to say that you cannot improve your lot in life. Even the lowliest yellow-grade trash can, with enough effort and sheer force of will, ascend to the heavens." He gestured grandly at the sky. "It is the beauty of cultivation, is it not? A path of limitless potential, open to all who dare to walk it." He paused for dramatic effect, then pointed at the unconscious disciple. "The gods might have given you a shit hand, but it is up to you to play it. This one did not play it well. He will be on latrine duty for the next month."
I couldn't help but scowl at the "inspiring" speech. Limitless potential, my ass. The only thing limitless around here was the amount of bullshit I had to put up with on a daily basis. There was no such thing as "limitless" potential. There was no such thing on Earth, and there was certainly no such thing in a world that literally quantified your potential with a goddamn color-coded system. I mean, I was stuck with a pathetic orange-grade Body aptitude, which meant that no matter how hard I trained, I'd never be able to compete with someone who had a gold-grade aptitude. It was a rigged game, and the gods had already decided who was going to win.
"Now, assume the Serpent Coil stance!" Elder Mao commanded. "We will hold it for the remainder of the lecture."
Great, another hour of standing in a painful, awkward position. Just what I needed.
"As you hold the stance," Elder Mao continued, "I will test your knowledge of the sect's history. A strong mind is as important as a strong body. He who does not learn from the past is doomed to be dismembered in it. Disciple Wei! Recite the Five Virtues of the Crimson Blade Path!"
I responded immediately, respectfully, and flawlessly, my voice ringing out across the courtyard. "Strength, Discipline, Loyalty, Honor, and Sacrifice, Honorable Elder!"
The man clearly wanted to find some kind of fault with my answer, but couldn't. He looked slightly confused, to be honest.
I kept my eyes straight ahead and my body perfectly still in the Serpent Coil stance as he moved to face me directly.
"Name the founder of our sect and the year of its establishment!" he barked.
"Sixth Realm Genius Huo Long, in the year 347 of the Crimson Phoenix Era, Honorable Elder."
"Name the fourteen demonic clans that have sworn a blood oath to destroy us!"
"The Bloodfiends, the Soul-Eaters, the Shadow Weavers, the Corpse Puppets, the Bone Grinders, the Flesh Shapers, the Mind Flayers, the Bile Drinkers, the Gut Rippers, the Eye Gougers, the Skin Peelers, the Heart Munchers, the Skull Crushers, and the… um… the Filth Spreaders, Honorable Elder."
His eyes widened slightly. "Impressive, Disciple Wei. Very impressive. It seems you have been studying."
I had come prepared. I had come prepared because I wasn't an idiot. After leaving Wei Ling's mansion, I'd spent the entire walk back to the outer disciple quarters cramming Wei Fan's memories of sect history and doctrine into my short-term memory. It was a miserable experience, like force-feeding myself a textbook, but I knew it would be worth it. The instructors in the Crimson Blade Sect loved to pull these little pop quizzes, and failing them was a surefire way to earn some extra "disciplinary training."
Honestly, the quality of Wei Fan's memories was actually kind of impressive. Weirdly impressive, really, considering how much of a slacker he was. Maybe he'd been paying more attention than I'd thought.
I bowed my head slightly, still keeping my stance. "This disciple has been remiss in his studies, Honorable Elder. I am merely trying to atone for my past negligence."
"Hmph," Elder Mao grunted, but I could see a flicker of approval in his eyes. "A commendable sentiment. Perhaps there is hope for you yet." He turned away from me and began pacing in front of the assembled disciples once more. "As Disciple Wei has so eloquently reminded us, our sect has many enemies. The Serpent Fist Sect is but the latest addition to a long and distinguished list of those who would see us burn. And make no mistake. Without us protecting this valley, the mortals below would be nothing but slaves to the demonic hordes. They owe us their lives. They owe us their loyalty. They owe us… everything." He stopped and turned to face the pregnant women. "You two. What is the penalty for a mortal who refuses to pay their tithe to the sect?"
One of the women fainted on the spot. The other one just stared at him with wide, terrified eyes, unable to speak.
"You will answer the question, mortal," Elder Mao said. "Or your child will be born into servitude."
"T-ten years of hard labor in the sulfur mines, Honorable Elder," the woman stammered. "And… and the forfeiture of all family assets."
"Wrong. Nine years," Elder Mao corrected her. "And only half of their assets. We are not savages." He turned to the rest of us. "Now, all of you, hold the stance. And contemplate the sacrifices our sect makes to keep you safe. Contemplate the price of your freedom."
We spent the next hour in the stupid Serpent Coil stance, listening to Elder Mao drone on about the glorious history of the Crimson Blade Sect and the many, many enemies who wanted to see it fall. I tried to concentrate on his words, just in case he decided to spring another pop quiz on us, but holding the ridiculous pose was making it difficult to focus. My muscles screamed in protest, my back ached, and sweat dripped into my eyes, blurring my vision. I knew the trick to holding these poses was to circulate Blood Qi through the specific muscle groups involved, but unfortunately, it required a level of fine control that I just didn't have. I would circulate too much, and my leg would cramp up. Too little, and I'd start to wobble. It was a grueling balancing act, and I was failing miserably.
Now, if I had been the kind of typical hard-working lunatic with an unshakeable will to succeed (Aka, your typical cultivation protagonist), perhaps I would have tried to make use of the time. After all, I could have tried to Qi-wash my mind meridians while holding the stance, or explore my spinal cord meridian further, or even attempt to multi-task two different circulation techniques at once. Right? Right…? Wrong. Also, fuck you. Let's see you hold a one-legged yoga pose for an hour under a scorching sun while some bald asshole lectures you about the virtues of self-mutilation. See how much "productive multitasking" you get done.
"And now we will discuss the proper way to disembowel a Serpent Fist disciple," Elder Mao said, drawing a long, curved knife from his belt. "There is a trick to it. You must cut upwards, from the navel to the sternum…"
Goddammit, I couldn't listen to another word this psychopath had to say.
There was a moan from behind me, and I glanced over my shoulder to see one of the newer recruits collapsing out of formation. A few minutes later, another one followed, and then another. Soon, half the recruits were sprawled out on the ground—pregnant women, scrawny teenagers, old men, all lying there on the hot stone, baking in the sun.
No one seemed to care.
"…and once the intestines are exposed, you must be careful not to puncture what we call the 'venom sac'," Elder Mao continued, unfazed by the growing pile of unconscious bodies. "It is a small, greenish organ located just below…"
One thing became abundantly clear: I had to be ready to leave this place on a moment's notice.
Preferably, with my Mind cultivation strong enough to guarantee my survival in the wilds.
I probed my still-tender spinal cord meridian with a tentative wisp of Dream Qi, grimacing as a wave of pain shot through my back. I still hadn't had the chance to test it thoroughly since Li Hu's spar. I'd circulated a tiny bit of Dream Qi through it on the way to Wei Ling's mansion, but that wasn't nearly enough to get a proper feel for its capabilities. I needed to know if I could achieve the same intense "zone" effect again. I needed to know what the limits were. How long could I maintain it? How much Dream Qi did it consume? What were the side effects?
In short, I needed to experiment.
And I couldn't do any sort of experimentation without a stable source of Dream Qi.
I thought about that for a moment, then sighed.
It looked like I was going to have to multitask like your typical hard-working cultivation protagonist, after all.
As we switched from the Serpent Coil stance to the equally ridiculous "Crane Spreads its Wings" stance, I closed my eyes and dove right back into Wei Fan's memories.
This time, I knew exactly what I was looking for.
Chapter 12 - The Blood Blade Hand
The plan I had come up with required a bit of prep work. Specifically, it required me to research the anatomy of several local demonic beasts, practice an entirely new offensive Body cultivation technique from scratch, and find out everything I can about Qi Purification techniques and Dantian Absorption techniques. Also—ideally—map out the clan's Beast Pens, and get my hands on a very specific set of tools. Oh, and I had to do all of that by Thursday's evening drills, because that was the only time I'd have access to the Beast Pens without raising suspicion. And I had to do all of that while suffering through the daily grind of mandatory lectures and training sessions.
Yeah… maybe "a bit of prep work" was a slight understatement. It was a Herculean task.
Still, if I failed, I would have the same opportunity the Thursday after that one. Or the Thursday after that one. There wasn't any real time limit here, except for the fact that the longer I stayed in this sect without making any real progress, the higher my chances of getting killed.
Luckily, that fact went a long way towards motivating me to put in the effort. Who would have thought that the looming threat of a violent and untimely death (possibly by your own sister) would be such an effective cure for procrastination? Doctors hate this one simple trick.
Anyway, I definitely became, at least for a couple of days, the very model of a diligent outer sect disciple. I attended every "lecture" (most of them were just thinly veiled propaganda sessions), I participated in every training drill (and managed to avoid getting my ass kicked too badly), I even volunteered for extra chores around the sect (and managed to clear up some of the infraction points Wei Fan had accumulated). I was a model disciple. A regular Boy Scout of the Crimson Blade Sect.
I fucking hated it. I wished I was dead.
I also wished Wei Fan hadn't had any friends in the sect (or rather, "friend," as in singular), because dealing with said friend was quickly becoming the most exhausting part of my life here.
"So, this glorious war with the Serpent Fists... you think it's ever actually going to start?" Feng Yao, the spiky-haired girl I'd seen in the crowd during Li Hu's sparring match, asked me one afternoon while we were patrolling the sect's perimeter. We were still high up enough on the mountain that we were surrounded by dense evergreen forests, and the air was crisp and clean. It was actually quite beautiful, with the mist rolling through the trees and the occasional chirping of birds breaking the silence.
Honestly, patrol duty could have actually been one of my favorite chores if I wasn't constantly stuck with someone like her yapping in my ear.
"I don't know," I grunted. I really hoped I'd be out of this place before that happened. After all, I was essentially cannon fodder, as Elder Mao so eloquently put it. Wei Fan had always been cannon fodder, really, but he had Wei Ling pulling the strings to make sure he never went on any of the truly dangerous missions. Could I trust her to continue pulling those same strings for me, now that she suspected something was off? I wasn't sure. And that uncertainty was a big part of why I was so desperate to get my Mind cultivation up and running.
Hence, the endless grind.
"Gods, I hope it does," Feng Yao said with a dreamy sigh. "Anything to break up the monotony around here. Don't you agree?"
No, I really didn't. Sure, I hated the grind. But I hated the idea of dying in a pointless war even more.
"Besides," Feng Yao added, "I've been dying to test out a new toy." She turned to a nearby tree and raised her arm. With a sharp flick of her wrist, tiny droplets of razor-sharp blood shot out from her palm, peppering the trunk with dozens of shallow cuts. The tree didn't seem to mind, but I was pretty sure a human would. "It's called the Thousand Cuts Palm," she said, admiring her handiwork. "The manual promised a very high splatter radius. I can't wait to use it on a real person."
In case you were wondering—yes, that was a clear sign of mental instability. Feng Yao was a certified psychopath.
"Have you ever killed before?" I asked flatly.
"You're asking me if I've killed someone?" She gave me a look like I'd just asked her if the sun was hot. "Sweetheart, I'm from Iron City. Killing is practically a rite of passage there. I gutted my first man when I was twelve. He was trying to steal my sister's rations. I used a rusty spoon."
And there it was. The mandatory fucked-up backstory. Everyone in this world seemed to have one. It was like a prerequisite for becoming a cultivator.
"But have you ever killed a kid?" I pressed. "A defenseless woman? An old man?"
"Depends on your definition of 'defenseless'," she said with a shrug. "The old man had a knife. The woman had a rock. The kid…"
I stared at her as she trailed off.
She held my gaze for a moment, then burst out laughing. "Gods, you're so easy to mess with. I'm kidding. I've never killed a kid. Or an old man. I'm not a monster."
Could have fooled me…
"Well, who do you think we'll be fighting?" I tried again. I knew that it was pretty much a waste of time trying to get a straight answer from her, but I also knew that she was Wei Fan's only "friend" in the outer sect, so getting a handle on her general level of mental instability was probably a good idea. "The Serpent Fist Sect isn't a demonic clan," I pointed out. "They're just another sect, like us."
"And?" she said, raising an eyebrow. "They are fighting us, aren't they? Anyone who opposes the Crimson Blade Sect is, by definition, an enemy of righteousness. A tool of the demonic hordes. A blight upon the land that must be cleansed with fire and blood." She smiled sweetly. "That's what Elder Mao says, anyway. And he's an elder, so he must be right."
I sighed inwardly. Yep, the propaganda was working. I mean, she was clearly being sarcastic about it, but that didn't change the fact that she was perfectly willing to go along with it. Sometimes a weak excuse was just as good as a strong one, as long as it gave you permission to do what you wanted to do anyway. And what Feng Yao wanted to do was kill people.
"So you'd kill them all?" I asked. "Even their children?"
Feng Yao stopped walking abruptly and turned to face me, her smile gone. "You're asking a lot of strange questions today, Wei Fan," she said, poking me in the chest with a finger. "You're not getting soft on me, are you? Because I don't do soft."
"Relax," I said, pushing her finger away. "I'm just testing you. Making sure you're still sharp."
"Oh, is that so?" she purred, leaning in closer. "Well, I can assure you, I'm very, very sharp." She ran a finger along my jawline, her nails digging in just a little. "Sharp enough to cut you. So don't test me."
I met her gaze evenly, forcing myself not to flinch or pull away, waiting her out.
She held the pose for a few more seconds, then sighed and pulled back. "You're no fun anymore. You used to be so easy to rile up. Now you're just a handsome brooding statue. What gives?"
"I'm not sure if you've noticed," I said, "but I almost died a few days ago. It tends to change a man's perspective." I tilted my head. "Oh, wait. I did notice. Because you were there, betting against me."
She looked completely unrepentant. "Hey, a girl's gotta eat," she said with a shrug. "But you should know that I would have been very sad if you'd died. This place is only entertaining when you're around to cause trouble."
Yeah, right. "Trouble" was one word for it. I was sure that a blood feud between my sister and the second most powerful clan in the sect was a source of endless amusement for her.
Still, despite her many, many flaws, Feng Yao wasn't entirely useless. She was well-connected, and she knew how to get things done. Most importantly, she was far more knowledgeable and skilled in the Crimson Blade Path than I was. Which was why I was currently tolerating her presence.
I hesitated, then decided to take the chance. "Hey, Feng Yao," I said, trying to sound as casual as possible. "You're pretty good with knives, right?"
She smirked. "I'm not just good with knives, sweetheart. I'm an artist. Why?"
I lifted my palm and showed her the new technique that I'd been practicing. It was a variation of the Blood Steel Palm, but instead of hardening your hand into a blunt instrument, it sharpened the flesh along the edge of your palm into a blade. It was called the "Blood Blade Hand," and it was a lot more difficult to master than it looked. I'd been practicing it for two days straight, and all I'd managed to do was give myself a bunch of nasty paper cuts.
"I'm preparing for this week's demonic beast culling," I said. "And you know, since no weapons are allowed, I figured it was time I learned a proper cutting technique. Could you give me some pointers?"
"Oh? Asking for my help now?" Her smirk was slow and predatory. "And here I thought the only thing you noticed about me were my tits."
"Can you help me or not? Also, do you mind partnering up with me for the culling?" I asked, cutting straight to the point. Wei Fan had always been direct with her, bordering on rude, and it seemed to be the only way to get a straight answer.
Her smile only widened. "Of course I'll help you. For a price."
Of course there was a price. There was always a price.
I sighed. "What do you want?"
/-/
By the time the "weekend" arrived (the single day of rest granted to the outer disciples), dinner with Wei Ling was actually something I found myself almost looking forward to.
Why?
Because I was fucking starving.
The Outer Disciple Mess Hall served two meals a day, a watery gruel in the morning and a slightly less watery gruel in the evening, and while technically you could eat as much as you wanted, the gruel itself was so devoid of nutrients that you'd have to eat a literal bucket of it to feel full. Which was impossible, because after the fifth bowl you'd be running for the latrines. Don't ask me how I know.
So really, the only way to get decent food around this dump was to buy it from one of the markets down in the mortal towns, which required spirit stones, which I didn't have.
Now, since my dear sister Wei Ling had promised to cover my expenses, I intended to hold her to it.
Unfortunately, when her servant arrived at my room that morning, he didn't come bearing a pouch of spirit stones. He came bearing a message. "The Young Mistress regrets to inform you that she will be unable to join you for dinner this evening," he said the moment I opened the door. "She has been summoned by the Sect Leader for an urgent matter."
"Of course she has," I grumbled. So much for my free, high-quality meal. "Is she sending any money for my 'basic necessities' at least?"
He gave me a pitying look. "Your 'basic necessities' are covered by the sect, Young Master. And the sect is receiving funds for your upkeep directly from your sister's account."
"So I should be thankful for the gruel, is that it?" I asked bitterly.
I knew this wasn't the smartest thing to say to a man who clearly had more power and influence than his "servant" status would suggest, but I was hungry, and tired, and in no mood for his condescending bullshit.
"You should be thankful that you have a sister who is willing to pay for your upkeep at all, Young Master." Something in his eyes told me he wasn't just reciting some canned response. He actually believed it. "Many disciples are not so fortunate. As for the gruel, perhaps you would find it more palatable if you added some more salt. I hear it does wonders for the—"
I slammed the door in his face.
Was it childish? Yes. Was it satisfying? Also yes.
Now where was I?
I turned back to the pile of scrolls I'd been studying. The scrolls Wei Ling had been kind enough to lend me. I sat down on my straw mat and unrolled the first one, "On the Nine Gates of a Meridian and Their Corresponding Strengthening Techniques."
It turned out that strengthening a meridian, whether it was for Body, Spirit, or Mind cultivation, was not just a matter of making it thicker or more robust. It was about opening up certain "gates" along the meridian, specific points that acted as control valves for Qi flow. Opening a gate increased the meridian's capacity and efficiency, but it was a painful and delicate process that required, you guessed it, a lot of Qi of the appropriate type.
Unfortunately, since I needed to save every little drop of Dream Qi for the demonic beast culling this week, this was not a viable option for me. Maybe if my Upper Dantian filled out completely before Thursday and I had some Qi to spare, but I doubted it. It was barely 30% full, and it'd already been four days since that spar with Li Hu that had completely drained it.
So instead, I studied the three other scrolls she had given me. They had different methods for strengthening meridians, methods that didn't require as much Qi. They were, in essence, a series of increasingly difficult stretching and breathing exercises designed to gradually expand the meridian pathways through physical and mental stress.
I had to experiment a bit to find one that could actually target my spinal cord meridian, but once I did, I went at it with a vengeance.
And it helped.
I wasn't sure how it helped, since I was pretty much stressing a meridian that was already raw and under a lot of stress, but it did. There was something healing about the specific pattern of breathing and mental focus that the scroll described. It was like I was massaging the meridian from the inside, gently coaxing it back to health.
I wasn't sure how long I would have to practice these exercises before I would visibly see my spinal cord meridian thicken, but as long as it didn't snap in the meantime, I was definitely on the right track.
I practiced the exercises for a couple of hours, then decided to visit the Outer Disciple Library again. This time with some writing materials so I could take notes. There was a lot of research I needed to do, and I also hoped to catch Ming Zhu and ask her a few questions.
She wasn't there when I arrived, so I spent the next couple of hours poring over dusty scrolls, cross-referencing anatomical charts of demonic beasts with descriptions of their Upper Dantian location and Qi storage capacity. I couldn't find an Absorption technique for Mind cultivators, but I did find several for Spirit and Body cultivators, and the general principle seemed to be the same.
I didn't find anything useful on Purification techniques, though, which… could be a massive problem.
As I'd said, I would probably have to wing it.
When the sun began to set, and my eyes were starting to cross from staring at faded ink for too long, Ming Zhu finally appeared, carrying the same cloth-wrapped bundle she had the last time I visited. She gave me a brief, almost imperceptible nod as she passed, then went about her usual routine of waking the sleeping elder and serving him his meal.
I waited until he was snoring again before approaching her.
"Hey," I said, grabbing the stack of bamboo slips she was about to lift. "Let me help you with that."
"Young Master," she said tightly. "There is no need. This servant can manage."
"And this disciple insists," I said, lifting the heavy stack and placing it on the shelf. "Consider it a thank you for the heads-up the other day."
She gave me another one of her slow blinks. "It was nothing," she said, though her shoulders seemed to relax a fraction. "I merely thought you had a right to know." She paused. "How is your sister?"
"Wei Ling? She's… tough," I said, which was a massive understatement. "She'll be fine."
Ming Zhu nodded. "They say she's the strongest disciple in the valley," she said. "That she's on the verge of breaking through to the Fourth Realm. You are very lucky to have her."
Lucky huh… if only she knew. "It has its ups and downs," I said noncommittally. "Speaking of which…" I was about to get straight to the point and ask her about the Beast Pens, but then realized that it'd be incredibly rude of me to just use her for information without showing some basic human decency first. "How are you holding up?" I asked. "Are they treating you well?"
"I am a servant," she said, a little hoarsely. "I do not expect to be treated well. I am fine."
She didn't sound fine at all. In fact, she sounded like she was on the verge of tears. I noticed the faint red marks on her wrists, peeking out from under the long sleeves of her uniform. They looked like rope burns.
"This place is fucking awful, isn't it?" I found myself saying, a bitter laugh escaping my lips. "You know what my instructor told us the other day? That yellow-grade disciples like me are just ammunition. That our corpses will be used to build bridges over moats. They've made so many enemies in this valley that they're in a state of constant, low-grade warfare with a dozen different factions. And they're losing."
She didn't say anything. She just kept wiping down the desk, her movements mechanical.
"And the food," I continued, unable to stop myself. "Have you tried the gruel? It's like they're actively trying to poison us. I'm pretty sure I saw a rat floating in it yesterday. A dead rat."
That made her crack a tiny smile.
So she could smile, apparently. Good to know.
"I saw one too. " She said, covering her mouth with her hand. "In the morning batch. It was missing an eye."
"I'm not surprised," I said. "Probably got into a fight with one of the cockroaches. The cockroaches here are the size of small dogs, have you noticed?"
I wasn't kidding about that. There were a lot of Blood Qi resources lying around in the Crimson Blade sect, and they attracted all sorts of mutated, oversized vermin. The sect had a standing bounty on them, actually. A low-grade spirit stone for every ten rat tails you brought in. It was one of the few ways an outer disciple could earn some extra cash, but it was a disgusting, thankless job that no one wanted to do.
"I have not seen any cockroaches," she admitted. "But I did see a centipede in the kitchens that was as long as my arm."
"Ah, the kitchen centipedes," I said with a knowing nod. "Vicious little bastards. I heard one of them bit a cook last month. His leg swelled up to the size of a tree trunk and turned purple. They had to amputate it." Her smile immediately crumbled, so I quickly backtracked. "I'm just kidding," I said. "He was fine. They have an antidote."
She nodded in relief, but the smile was gone. "The kitchens are… not a pleasant place to work," she said. "The head cook is a cruel man. He… he likes to watch us suffer."
"Do you want me to have a word with him?" I offered, surprising myself. "I'm not exactly high on the sect's totem pole, but I'm still a disciple. He'd have to listen to me."
Surprisingly, she actually nodded. "Yes, please."
Well I guess I was going to have to punch a cook, then. Or really just try to intimidate him with my slightly larger-than-average frame. Shouldn't be a problem. I'd watched enough cooking shows to know that kitchen tyrants usually folded the moment anyone stood up to them.
"Consider it done."
"Thank you." She seemed to hesitate for a moment. "May I ask… where are you from, Young Master? You do not seem like the other disciples here. I asked around about you and the Wei Clan. They say your family is native to this valley."
Yep, the great Wei Clan of Burning Maw Valley. A second-rate clan in a third-rate backwater, clinging to the coattails of a sect that was barely holding on to its territory. Wei Fan's father was a Fourth Realm cultivator, which made him a big fish in this small, stagnant pond, but in the grand scheme of things, he was a nobody. He was also a bitter, resentful drunk who had blamed all his failures on his children. Wei Ling had inherited his talent, while Wei Fan had inherited his… well, Wei Fan had inherited his drinking problem.
"I'm afraid we are," I said with a sigh. "Born and raised in this shithole. But I've… traveled a bit. Seen some things. It gives you a different perspective."
"They don't say nice things about you, you know," she said. "They say you are a wastrel. A drunkard. A lecher. They say you are a disgrace to your clan."
Ah, Wei Fan. The gift that just kept on giving. Of course she'd asked around about me. And of course, that's what she would have heard.
"It hasn't always been easy for me here." I said. "I've done some things I'm not proud of." I tried to sound remorseful, which wasn't very hard. Wei Fan's memories were a constant source of second-hand embarrassment. "But I'm trying to change. I'm trying to be a better person."
"I believe you," Ming Zhu said. "I saw you during the punishment. You were the only one who went to her. The only one who cared."
"You were there?"
"I was one of the servants assigned to clean the courtyard afterward. It was… unpleasant."
I nodded sympathetically. Cleaning up toxic blood and bits of shredded flesh probably wasn't the most glamorous of jobs.
"Sorry that you had to see that. It wasn't a pretty sight."
"Yes…" she sighed, rubbing her temples. "I… I just want to go home. I want to see my family again."
Home. The word hit me like a punch to the gut. I wanted to go home too. More than anything. But my home was a world away, and I had no idea how to get back. Maybe I never would.
I swallowed the lump in my throat. "I know the feeling…"
Ming Zhu seemed to be waiting for me to say something more. Maybe something encouraging. But I couldn't. The words just wouldn't come. What could I say? That everything would be alright? That she'd be back with her family in no time? It was a lie, and she'd see right through it.
"What did you want to ask me about?" She finally asked.
Right. The Beast Pens.
I was about to ask about the layout of the pens and how often the guards patrolled, but I hesitated. I'd been building a rapport with her, earning her trust. Was it really a good idea to immediately pivot to asking for potentially sensitive information? It would make me look calculating and manipulative, like I'd only been nice to her to get something in return. Which, to be fair, was partially true. But I didn't want her to know that.
"Forget it," I said, shaking my head. "It's not important. I just wanted to see how you were doing."
"I see," she said slowly. I thought she looked disappointed, but it was hard to tell with her. "Well, if you need anything, you can find me in the kitchens during the day. Or here, in the evenings." She finished wiping the desk and turned to leave. "I must get back to my duties."
I watched her work for a bit before I returned to my research, a nagging feeling of guilt settling in my stomach. I wasn't even sure what I was even feeling guilty about, just that I probably deserved it.
Eh, whatever. I shoved it into the same mental box I'd been shoving all my other negative emotions, and then got back to work.
/-/
When I finally left the library a few hours later, my head was swimming with information and my stomach was rumbling like a caged beast. I hadn't eaten anything since my meager breakfast of gruel, and the hunger was starting to make me lightheaded.
Sadly, there was still work to be done for the day. I still had to practice my Blood Blade Hand technique, which meant I needed somewhere private.
So, I took a detour on my way back to the outer disciple quarters, exploring the woods behind the training grounds until I found a small clearing with a decent-sized rock in the middle.
Private enough, but not too far from the beaten path. Perfect.
Not wasting any time getting to work, I began channeling Blood Qi from my Lower Dantian, following Feng Yao's instructions and focusing on shaping the flesh along the edge of my palm into a sharp blade. It was a slow process. Several minutes just to get the shape right. And the result was grotesque. My hand looked like a fleshy, blood-red cleaver. I stared at it, disgusted. I definitely would have preferred a more elegant solution, something smoother, less horrifying.
But there were more practical considerations than aesthetics to think about. Considerations such as the fact that taking several minutes just to activate the damn thing was a huge problem. Also the fact that it wasn't fucking easy to create a sharp enough "blade". Wei Ling, a genius Gold-grade Body cultivator, would have probably mastered this technique in five second. I, an orange-grade piece of trash, would probably need a month. Or however long it took to get it to a point where decapitating a demonic beast wouldn't be a problem.
The Upper Dantian, after all, was located in the head.
And I needed a clean cut. A very, very clean cut.
Well, no point in delaying things any longer.
I took a deep breath, focused on the rock, and swung.
The result was a complete fucking disaster.
"Arghhhhh! Motherfucking son of a bitch!" The rock didn't even have a scratch on it. My hand, on the other hand, was an absolute mess. "Ouch! Ouch! Fucking useless!" I jumped around, clutching my throbbing palm, cursing Wei Fan to hell and back for his utter incompetence. It was all his fault. Everything was his fault.
The Blood Blade Hand had literally dissipated on impact, leaving my hand completely unprotected. I'd almost broken a few fingers. Again.
Needless to say, it took a whole lot of self-pep talk before I felt ready for another attempt.
But I had no other choice.
I began shaping my hand again, but this time, I tried something different. I shaped it halfway, then activated my spinal cord meridian. Not in that same intense "zone" state I'd used against Li Hu—my spinal cord meridian was still too raw for that—but just enough to get a taste of that heightened perception, that sense of slowed time. The same way I'd done on the climb to Wei Ling's mansion.
And as I did so, I had to stop feeding Blood Qi into the Blood Blade Hand. I couldn't channel two different types of Qi at the same time, so the moment I activated my Dream Qi, the Blood Qi in my palm began to dissipate.
Luckily, once the Blood Blade Hand was formed, it seemed to hold its shape for a few seconds even without a constant supply of Blood Qi, which was more than enough time for me to switch gears.
So I spent those seconds observing the flow of Blood Qi in my hand, the way it swirled and condensed, the subtle imperfections in the blade's edge. I saw the weak points, the areas where the Qi was thinnest. Then, I stopped the Dream Qi circulation and switched to Blood Qi to feed the blade again, but this time with the adjustments in mind
I repeated the process a few times, refining the blade with each iteration. Ten seconds of Blood Qi shaping, followed by a brief pulse of Dream Qi for analysis, then back to Blood Qi.
When I was done, I'd wasted a good chunk of my precious Dream Qi, and my Lower Dantian was also running on fumes, but the Blood Blade Hand looked… different. Sharper. More stable.
I took a deep breath, and swung again.
This time, the rock did not come out on top.
Chapter 13 - Late Night Training
One unfortunate consequence of asking for Feng Yao's help with the Blood Blade Hand technique was that I now seemed to have inadvertently signed up for a late-night "training" session with her. Which she called a "date". Which—obviously—immediately rang all sorts of alarm bells in my head.
I mean, let's be real, power maniacs like Feng Yao weren't interested in romantic relationships; they were interested in using you to get what they wanted. And I was pretty sure that what Feng Yao wanted wasn't a candlelit dinner and a stroll under the twin moons. It obviously wasn't just about sex, either, because she could probably get that from half the guys in the sect, or just visit one of the many brothels in the mortal towns if she was that desperate.
So, what did she want?
I wasn't sure, but I had a few theories. The most likely one was that she was trying to get closer to Wei Ling, hoping that some of her core disciple clout would rub off on her. Or maybe she was after the Wei clan's resources, which was a laughably bad plan given that Wei Fan had been cut off.
Whatever it was, I should have probably just politely told her to fuck off and avoided the whole situation. That would have been the safest play.
Sadly, I couldn't afford to. It's not that I actually needed more help with the Blood Blade Hand—her initial tips were more than enough to get me on the right track—but I did need her for tomorrow's demonic beast culling, and she'd made it quite clear that the price for her partnership was this midnight "date."
So, I had to suck it up and play along, meeting her at the training grounds a few hours after sunset.
Surprisingly, there were two other disciples already there when we arrived.
And one of them was Li Hu.
I was immediately on edge.
"Problem, sweetheart?" Feng Yao asked, noticing my sudden tension. "Don't tell me you're scared of little Li Hu. I thought you handled him just fine."
"Just a little surprised to see him here," I said, trying to sound casual. "I saw him leaving Evening Drills with his clan. Thought he was taking the night off."
I'd gotten into the habit of keeping an eye on him during training. He hadn't approached me directly since the spar, but I'd caught him staring at me more than once.
Hence the extra caution.
"He never takes a night off," Feng Yao said with a shrug. "Admirable, I suppose. But with his talent, he'd be better off spending his time in a brothel. A bit like you, really."
Never takes a night off? Well, that sounded like a revenge protagonist's level of obsession. Was he preparing for another deathmatch, or was he just an overachiever? Judging by the way he'd been glaring at me during Wei Ling's public punishment, I was leaning toward the former.
I squinted through the flickering torchlight to get a better look. Li Hu was standing in the corner of the training ground, in front of a brick wall, repeatedly slamming his fists into it. He wasn't wearing his outer robes, and his bare back was slick with what looked like black sludge, his muscles bulging with every impact. It looked… painful, to say the least. The wall itself was smeared with so much blood that it was almost completely dark red.
It took a moment for the memory to click into place.
The Wall of a Thousand Fists
Of course.
The Wall of a Thousand Fists was specifically designed to withstand the blows of Second Realm Body cultivators, and it was a popular spot for disciples looking to… well, purify their Blood Qi by literally beating the demonic taint out of it. It was a crude but effective method. The idea was that the physical impact would agitate the Blood Qi in your Lower Dantian, causing the impurities to separate from the pure Qi. You'd then expel the impurities through your pores, along with a lot of sweat and blood. That explained why I didn't find any purification techniques in the library. They were all physical.
But then, how hadn't I remembered the Wall of a Thousand Fists until now? It was a pretty famous landmark in the outer sect, so it was the kind of thing Wei Fan should've known about.
So how…?
I thought about it for a moment, then realized that Wei Fan had literally never once bothered to intentionally purify his Blood Qi. Not once in his entire time here. In fact, he'd never even used the Wall of a Thousand Fists, which was why I barely had a vague impression of it.
"Purification." Feng Yao wrinkled her nose in disgust, following my gaze. "Such a tedious process. Almost makes me jealous of the demonic cultivators."
I couldn't help but glance around to make sure no one else had heard her say that. That was practically heresy in the Crimson Blade Sect.
Feng Yao noticed my reaction and just laughed. "Relax, sweetheart. I'm not going to turn to the dark side. I just think they have a more efficient system." She led me to the center of the training ground, where she stopped and started stretching her arms. "I bet it feels really good to them, too. All that raw, untamed power coursing through their veins. Must be a rush."
A rush? I didn't recall Wei Fan feeling any "rush" when he'd been chugging Lin Tao's tainted pills. Just a lot of nausea and a burning sensation in his meridians. Then again, Lin Tao wasn't exactly known for the quality of his work.
Still, analyzing the actual state of my Lower Dantian and the demonic taint it contained would be another thing I would have to add to my already lengthy to-do list. If I had some kind of a ticking time bomb inside me, I really needed to know.
"Mmm, feels so good," Feng Yao groaned, arching her back and then rolling her shoulders. "Nothing like a good stretch to get the blood flowing."
The skies cleared a bit above us, and the twin moons bathed the area in pale, cold light, enough for me to take in her getup. She'd somehow managed to make the standard-issue crimson robes look… scandalous. The sash was tied low on her hips, the collar was unbuttoned to reveal a generous amount of cleavage, and she'd even managed to make the sleeves look shorter, somehow. She was also wearing a pair of high-heeled boots that I was pretty sure weren't regulation.
"Enjoying the view?" she smirked, catching me staring.
"So," I said, deciding to ignore the question. "What am I doing here, exactly?"
"It depends," she said, stretching her legs now in a way that made her robes ride up her thighs a bit. "On whether you're going to be a good boy and do as I say. Because if you are, we're going to have a lot of fun. And if you're not…" She straightened up and tapped her chin thoughtfully. "Well, let's just say I'll find a way to make it fun for me."
"I'm tired, Feng Yao," I said, pinching the bridge of my nose. "Just tell me what you want."
"Such impatience. Very unattractive." She sighed dramatically. "Fine. Show me your Blood Blade Hand."
My hand was still sore from earlier practice, but I figured that the faster I got this over with, the sooner I could go back to bed.
I concentrated, focusing all my will on the edge of my palm, and channeled Blood Qi from my Lower Dantian, shaping the flesh into a crude but serviceable blade. It took me a full minute to get it right, and by the time I was done, my forehead was beaded with sweat. "There," I grunted, holding it up for her to inspect.
"Hmm… not bad, for a beginner," she said, surprising me. I hadn't used my Dream Qi to refine it, so I was expecting her to tear into me, but she actually sounded mildly impressed. "The edge is a little jagged, and the Qi distribution is uneven, but the overall structure is sound. You've been practicing." She tapped the blade with a finger. "But you'll still break your hand on anything harder than a block of tofu." She stepped back and held out her own hand. "Watch."
With a surge of Blood Qi, her hand transformed, the flesh along the edge of her palm hardening into a sharp blade. It was pretty good. Not nearly as good as mine with the Dream Qi adjustments, but still pretty good. Fast, too. The whole process took her less than three seconds, while I had to concentrate for a good ten seconds to get even a vaguely blade-like shape.
"See? Smooth, clean, and efficient," she said, running a finger along the edge of her blade. It was so sharp that it drew a thin line of blood. She licked it off with a flick of her tongue. "The key is not to force it. You're trying to brute-force the Qi into a shape it doesn't want to take. You need to coax it, guide it. Think of it like seducing a woman, not clubbing her over the head and dragging her back to your cave."
Yikes, what a terrible analogy.
"Alright," I said, a little impatiently. Frankly, my analysis mode was far superior to her "coax the Qi" advice. Her pointers had been helpful getting me started, but now I felt like I was already ahead of her. "Thanks for the tip."
"You're not even going to try it?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. "I thought you wanted my help."
"No, I'm not," I said. "My hand is still recovering from the last time. I don't want to push it."
It wasn't the amount of Blood Qi I'd be wasting that was the problem, because Wei Fan was actually fairly close to breaking through to the Second Realm and his Blood Qi regeneration was pretty decent. It was the physical strain on my hand that was the problem. If I strained it too much, I wouldn't be able to perform the technique properly tomorrow during the culling, and all of this effort would be for nothing.
"Such a delicate flower," she sighed. "Fine. Then how about some footwork practice? You were practically tripping over your own feet during the spar with Li Hu. It was embarrassing to watch."
I didn't answer right away. Instead, I scanned the training ground first, taking in the layout, the position of the torches, the location of Li Hu and the other disciple.
"You're looking a little pale, Wei Fan," Feng Yao said. "Are you feeling alright? I promise I won't make you do anything you don't want to do. Unless you want me to, of course."
"It's nothing," I said slowly. "So where do you want to start?"
We spent some time on basic movement drills, simple patterns of shifting weight and pivoting that were supposed to make my footwork more fluid and less predictable, but they really weren't that different from Instructor Bai's drills. I did my best to follow along, but my heart wasn't in it. I knew that I'd be able to move a lot more efficiently with my Dream Qi circulation active, so this all felt like a colossal waste of time.
How did I know that? I wasn't sure. It was just that lingering memory of the "zone" effect during my fight with Li Hu. I'd burned all of my Dream Qi in under a minute, but it had been enough to dodge the attacks of a Second Realm cultivator. A minute to burn my full reserves, which had taken several days to replenish. That was an abysmal rate of exchange. But the effect had been undeniable. So, if I could find a way to regenerate Dream Qi more quickly…
"You're not paying attention," Feng Yao said, snapping me out of my thoughts. "Are you holding back on me? Or are you just that bad?"
Huh? Holding back?
"No. I'm just tired."
She shook her head in disapproval. "Tired is no excuse. A cultivator must be able to push through fatigue, through pain, through despair. That is the only way to grow stronger." She circled me again, and I turned with her, keeping her in my line of sight. She circled me once, twice, and then stopped, right in front of me. Something shifted in her posture. For a second, my instincts were screaming at me to brace for an attack, and I almost activated my Blood Qi circulation.
But then she just smiled and reached out to grab my hand. "Let's take a break."
I let out a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding.
She sat down on the ground, tugging me down with her, and pulled a small flask from her sash. "Drink?" she offered, uncorking it.
I hesitated, then accepted the flask. It smelled like plum wine, the same kind that Wei Ling liked.
"Thanks," I said, taking a swig. It was strong and sweet, and it burned all the way down. "Not bad."
I'd never been much of a drinker back on Earth. I'd occasionally have a beer or two with friends, but I'd never been one to get drunk on a regular basis. Wei Fan, on the other hand, had been a full-blown alcoholic. Thankfully, I was pretty sure I hadn't actually inherited his physical addiction to alcohol.
I had definitely inherited his mental association of alcohol with stress relief, though. And right now, I was feeling pretty damn stressed.
So I took another swig.
"Easy there, tiger," Feng Yao said, snatching the flask back. "That's a month's worth of my allowance you're chugging. You can buy me another one after the culling tomorrow."
"So you're partnering with me, then?" I asked, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand.
"Hmm… I don't know," she said, tapping her chin. "A Second Realm disciple and a First Realm… That's a pretty big gap. I'd be doing all the work, and we'd still have to split the rewards fifty-fifty. It's supposed to be a big haul this time, too. They're bringing in a fresh batch of reptiles from the mines. Their Dantians are worth a lot more than the usual mountain trash."
"Feng Yao…"
"But," she interrupted. "I suppose I could make an exception. For you." She scooted closer, her thigh brushing against mine. "Just this once."
"Thanks," I said, sighing in relief. That's it. I had somehow managed to secure a Second Realm powerhouse as my partner. Feng Yao was precise and efficient—aside from the new "Thousand Cuts Palm" technique, at least—and that meant that she would be less likely to destroy the demonic beasts' heads. She'd also probably do most of the work, so I wouldn't have to exert myself too much. I'd make sure to keep all the heads gathered around in a neat pile so I could reach them easily later, and then volunteer to cart the remains back to the Beast Pens for processing. It was a dirty job, and almost no one ever volunteered for it, so I was pretty sure no one would object. Once I was alone with the carcasses, I'd just have to find a quiet corner, cut open the heads, and extract the precious Upper Dantians. According to the diagrams I'd studied in the library, the Upper Dantian of a demonic reptile was pearl-like organ located just behind the eyes. It was tiny. I would be able to fit dozens of them into a small pouch.
And that should be a massive amount of energy to work with.
Enough for days of experimentation.
I felt the tension in my shoulders ease for the first time all day. It was a solid plan. A bit risky, sure, but the potential payoff was huge.
A grunt and the meaty thud of flesh against stone drew my attention. I glanced over at Li Hu, who was still slamming his fists into the wall of blood and sweat, his muscles glistening in the torchlight. Interestingly, he was now also pausing every few seconds to take a drink from his own beverage. Which definitely wasn't plum wine, because what he was drinking out of wasn't a flask, but a fleshy, pulsating sac. It took me a few seconds to recognize it as the Lower Dantian of a demonic beast.
Demonic Blood Qi, of course.
He was drinking demonic Blood Qi to stretch his own Dantian to its limits. Stretching it, purifying it, then filling it up again. The cycle of a Body cultivator. Do that enough times, and eventually, your Dantian would expand enough to break through to the next Realm.
The "purifying" part of it certainly looked like it sucked, though. Feng Yao was right about that. Li Hu was grunting and sweating and his whole body was shaking. There was so much black sludge oozing out of his pores now that it looked like he was melting. The sheer resolve it must have taken to endure that… well, it was impressive. Deranged, but impressive.
"She's so dedicated," Feng Yao said. "The love of a mother for her child. It's almost touching, isn't it?"
She?
I followed Feng Yao's gaze to the other side of the training ground, towards the fourth and final outer disciple out for late-night training. She was one of the pregnant women from Elder Mao's lecture, the one who hadn't fainted. She was practicing a basic punching form, her movements awkward and unbalanced. It really looked ridiculous with her giant belly wobbling with every strike. It looked like it was probably really uncomfortable, too, but she kept going.
"The lengths some people will go to for a free meal," I muttered, shaking my head.
Feng Yao stared at me for a moment, her jaw slack, before bursting into laughter. "A free meal? Gods, you really are clueless, aren't you?" she shook her head. "That's not just any pregnant woman, sweetheart. That's a woman carrying a possessed fetus. A demon child."
It was my turn to stare at Feng Yao with my jaw slack. "Possessed? By a demon?"
"Yep," Feng Yao said, taking another sip of her wine. "Happens sometimes. A demonic cultivator gets a mortal woman pregnant, or a powerful demon decides to just… implant its seed. Either way, the poor little thing is doomed from the start. Unless, of course, the mother is willing to become a cultivator herself."
"What… what happens if she can't suppress it?" I asked, because really, I had to ask.
"What do you think happens?" Feng Yao said with a shrug. "The baby eats its way out. It's a messy business. I saw it happen once. The little bugger was the size of a cat, had claws like a tiger, and a mouth full of barbed teeth. It took three Second Realm disciples to put it down. And the mother… well, let's just say there wasn't much left of her."
Jesus Christ.
Possessed babies, Alien style.
It was just getting better and better, wasn't it?
It seemed like I'd integrated a lot of Wei Fan's knowledge about the horrors of this world, but I really hadn't taken things to their logical conclusion. It was one thing to know that demons existed, and another to truly comprehend the sheer, visceral horror of what they were capable of.
I closed my eyes, trying to block out the mental image of a demonic baby bursting out of a woman's stomach. It didn't work. The image was now permanently seared into my brain, right next to the image of Wei Ling's flayed back and Li Qiang's dismembered corpse.
I sighed, rubbing my forehead. It seemed there was a lot I didn't know about this world. I had a lot to learn, and very little time to learn it.
There was a pained yelp from the other side of the training grounds, and we both turned to see the pregnant woman doubled over, clutching her arm. She'd punched one of the wooden mannequins, and her knuckles were bleeding.
"I think she hurt her hand," I said, stating the obvious.
"Useless!" the woman sobbed, punching the mannequin again, and then again. "I'm useless! I can't even… I can't even…" She collapsed to her knees, her shoulders shaking.
"Well, this is depressing," Feng Yao said, not sounding at all depressed. "Oh would you look at that," she said, pointing. "Here comes the hero."
Li Hu had stopped his own training and was walking over to the crying woman, approaching her cautiously. I couldn't hear what he was saying, but whatever it was, it seemed to be working. The woman's sobs subsided, and she looked up at him with tear-filled eyes. He offered her a hand, and she took it, letting him help her to her feet. The next moment, she was hugging him. A full-on, sobbing, grateful hug, sludge and all.
I stared as Li Hu awkwardly patted her on the back with a hand the size of a dinner plate.
Huh? They knew each other?
"Must have a thing for pregnant women," Feng Yao said. She got to her feet suddenly, pulling me up with her. "Alright, break's over," she announced. "Let's practice."
"Practice what?" I asked, distracted by the sight of Li Hu demonstrating a punching form for the pregnant woman.
"Dodging," Feng Yao said simply. "Ready?"
"Uh… no. What do you mean by—"
She didn't let me finish, just launched herself at me, her hands a blur of motion. It was a simple, straightforward attack, a basic combination of punches and kicks, but it was fast and aggressive, and I found myself on the defensive immediately. And by "defensive" I mean that I was using my face to block her fists.
"Oof! Ow! Stop that!" I grunted, stumbling backward as she landed a solid kick to my ribs. "Wait a second!"
"Stop holding back, sweetheart" she purred. "Show me what you did to Li Hu. Show me that fancy footwork of yours."
What I did to Li Hu…?
Oh.
Oh shit.
I gritted my teeth, parrying another one of her punches, the impact jarring my arm all the way to the shoulder. "That was a fluke," I tried. "I used a pill."
"Tsk tsk," she clicked her tongue. "Lying is so unattractive. I saw how you moved. You were toying with him. Now show me."
I rolled away just as her foot came down, narrowly avoiding a stomp to the face. I blocked her follow-up kick with my forearms, missing the split-second window of opportunity to activate my Blood-Iron Carapace, and then staggered to my feet, my arms throbbing. "Damn it, Feng Yao, I said stop!"
"Make me."
She came at me again, and this time, she didn't hold back.
I proceeded to burn through around fifty percent of my Lower Dantian capacity on passive, instinctual defense. It was incredibly wasteful. The actual proper way to defend yourself on the Crimson Blade Path was to activate the Blood-Iron Carapace at the exact moment of impact. That was active defense, and it conserved Qi. What I was doing was passive defense, and it was exhausting. My body was automatically circulating Blood Qi through every muscle and bone, preparing for any possible attack. I was essentially flexing my entire body at all times, which was fine for short bursts of adrenaline-fueled combat, but unsustainable in the long run.
I should have been able to dampen that passive defense, using my Blood-Iron Carapace to parry at least a few of her blows, but I was rusty. And she was fast. And I was tired.
She was also a Second Realm green-grade talent, which meant that several of her techniques had some sort of a range component, and she was pretty good at using them. Which mostly translated to her launching droplets of pressurized blood at me like bullets. They stung like hell, and one of them managed to pierce my cheek.
"Fuck!" I yelled, more out of surprise than pain. The wound was shallow, but it was still bleeding freely, the warm trickle running down my jaw. "Are you trying to kill me?!"
"Don't be so dramatic," she scoffed, kneeing me in the gut. "It's just a scratch."
I was down to twenty-five percent of my Lower Dantian. That meant that even if I was able to counterattack and cause her some amount of damage with a Blood Steel Palm, I would only be able to throw about five fully-powered Blood Steel Palms before the Dantian was completely depleted. I tested this yesterday, because I needed a reference technique to gauge my consumption of Blood Qi, and a fully powered Blood Steel Palm took about 5% of my Qi. Now during a fight when I was also passively defending, my five shots would likely turn into two or three.
In fact, I was getting pretty close to running dry, and when that happened, even the basic passive defense would stop activating. At that point, Feng Yao could literally kill me with a single punch.
"Stop," I tried again. "I'm low on Qi. Stop."
She didn't stop.
20% capacity...
15% capacity…
10% capacity…
When I was starting to get dizzy and my leg muscles were starting to seize up, I realized I had no choice. I'd been painstakingly saving every drop of Dream Qi for tomorrow, only spending the bare minimum to analyze my Blood Blade Hand technique, and I'd brought it to near full capacity. But now it looked like I'd have to use an unknown precious chunk of it just to survive this stupid "date."
Goddammit.
I gritted my teeth, and stopped circulating Blood Qi entirely.
I immediately lost most of my strength. I felt my muscles soften, my arms weaken, my legs tremble. Her next punch connected with my solar plexus, sending me sprawling backwards.
But I didn't collapse, and my ribs didn't shatter.
The passive Blood Qi defenses were still active.
I started circulating Dream Qi through my spinal cord meridian, watching my Blood Qi like a hawk.
Another punch to the gut, and I felt a spike in my Blood Qi consumption as my body automatically tried to reinforce itself.
Thank God.
Apparently, even when I was circulating Dream Qi, the passive Blood Qi defenses were still working. That was huge. I couldn't channel both types of Qi at once, and I was pretty sure that I would never be able to, so the fact that the passive Body defense still worked meant I could use my spinal cord meridian without leaving myself completely vulnerable. It was a massive relief.
I increased the flow of Dream Qi to around fifty times the level I'd been using for analyzing the Blood Blade Hand, which was still a bit less than I'd used during the spar with Li Hu, and then watched the world slow down around me.
Feng Yao's next punch was coming in slow motion.
I angled myself out of its path, caught her wrist, and retaliated with a punch of my own.
Which did absolutely nothing.
Without my Blood Qi being actively circulated I was basically as strong as a regular human with a bit of muscle mass.
But it was still a clean hit, and it startled her.
So, I used that opportunity to grab her other wrist and spin her away.
She didn't fall, she barely staggered, but it was enough to break her rhythm. She paused, her eyes widening slightly.
I immediately stopped circulating Dream Qi, the world snapping back to normal speed. The sudden shift was jarring, and for a second, I felt a wave of nausea wash over me.
"Will you stop now?" I snapped, panting, my voice raspy. My chest ached where she'd hit me.
"There it is," she said, panting and grinning. "I knew you were hiding something."
"I'm not hiding anything. I just got a lucky shot in."
"Bullshit," she said, but she didn't attack again. She just stood there, studying me. "Wei Ling must have given you a movement technique. A good one, too. Something from the clan's private collection? I always wondered when she'd start sharing her toys with you." She took a step closer. "So what is it? Tell me."
"I thought we were friends," I said, backing away.
"We are," she said, her smile not reaching her eyes. "And friends share their secrets, don't they?" She stopped, her eyes scanning my face. "I won't force it out of you. I'm not stupid. I know what Wei Ling is capable of. But I am curious. And a curious woman can be a very persistent woman." She stepped closer, close enough that I could feel the heat radiating off her body. "I can, however, make it worth your while…"
And there it was. The real reason for this whole charade. She thought I had a secret technique, and she wanted it. She tried to get it out of me with a spar, and when that didn't work, she was trying to seduce me. It was so obvious in retrospect. I really should have seen it coming. Seriously, what a fucking idiot I was.
I closed my eyes and focused inward.
10%.
I'd wasted 10% of my Dream Qi on this. A full day's worth of regeneration wasted in less than five seconds. Perfect.
I opened my eyes to see Feng Yao's face inches from mine. I could smell the plum wine on her breath. I was about to tell her to fuck off, but then realized that that would be a mistake. There was a better way.
"I'll consider it," I said, meeting her gaze. "But not tonight. I don't appreciate being ambushed like that, and I don't appreciate you trying to beat me into submission. So thanks for the… date, I guess."
I shoved her back roughly and walked away, ignoring her stunned expression as she stood there, speechless, in the torchlight. I didn't look back, but I could feel her eyes on me. She was probably too furious and confused to say anything.
Good. Let her stew for a while.
It wasn't until I was back in my room, lying on my straw mat, that I realized something.
Li Hu had to literally beat the demonic taint out of his body. Gallons of black sludge, just to keep his Blood Qi pure.
For Body cultivation, demonic taint manifested as black sludge in the blood.
How would it manifest for Mind cultivation?
And more importantly… what would be the consequences of failing to purify it?
I'd brushed this off earlier, thinking that I would just have to deal with some unpleasant side effects—based on Wei Fan's previous experience with the tainted pills—and that for the amount of impurity I'd likely absorb in a couple of days, even weeks, it wouldn't be a big deal. Worst case scenario, I'd get a headache.
But now… now I wasn't so sure.