Chapter 1027 - 22

Chapter 21 - Demons (VII)

It took a while for my stomach to finally settle. I must have vomited several days' worth of gruel, bile, and what felt like my entire digestive tract. I lay there, panting, my cheek pressed against the cool, damp earth, feeling… pretty horrible, actually. Horrible, but alive.

I let out a long, shuddering sigh of relief, and then slowly, carefully, sat up.

Judging by the lack of irate inner disciples hovering over my prone form, and also the lack of a white-coated doctor prodding and poking me with sharp instruments, it seemed like I hadn't been out for very long. Half an hour, perhaps? It was hard to tell in the dark, but the twin moons hadn't moved much, so I figured I was probably still within a reasonable timeframe.

Thank God for that. The last thing I needed was to wake up in the sect infirmary and have to explain why I'd been found unconscious and covered in my own vomit in the middle of a dark forest surrounded by three severed demonic heads. I wouldn't have been able to explain any of this, not to the elders, certainly not to Wei Ling, and definitely not to the sect leader, if it ever escalated that far.

The memory-shredding battle must have not happened in real time, then, because while I couldn't remember which memories I'd lost, I definitely felt like I'd been fighting for at least a few hours.

I took another deep breath, stretched my aching limbs, and then—naturally—checked my Upper Dantian. It was full. Completely, utterly, ridiculously full. It was so full that it felt like it was about to burst, with most of the extra Dream Qi actually spilling over into my meridians, saturating almost my entire nervous system. It was a pleasant, tingling sensation, like my brain was taking a warm bath and my spinal cord was getting a deep-tissue massage. It looked like I could have stored even more Dream Qi, but the sludge blocking my Mind meridians was preventing it from expanding any further. Which meant that the Creeper could have had even more Dream Qi in its Upper Dantian than I had just absorbed, and most of it had leaked out into the environment.

That was way more Dream Qi than my most optimistic estimate. I'd thought I'd get enough for a few days of experimentation, given that those first-rank demonic beasts weren't Mind-based creatures and were probably just passively accumulating Dream Qi over their lifetimes. I'd expected a fifth of my full capacity per Dantian, maybe a third if I was lucky. What I got was a full charge, plus a massive surplus. That didn't make much sense, because I knew for a fact that Lower Dantians didn't work that way. A First Realm Body cultivator couldn't just absorb a first-rank Lower Dantian and expect to get a full charge. They'd need at least three.

Then again, I'd also thought that purifying Dream Qi would come after I'd absorbed it, not as part of the absorption process itself. So clearly, I'd been wrong about a lot of things.

I hadn't died though. I guess that was something.

I glanced at the now shriveled and cracked Upper Dantian in my hand. It looked like a dried-up husk, all of its energy gone.

I had come pretty close to dying, though, hadn't I?

Yes, I had. I'd stupidly experimented with something I didn't fully understand, skipped all the necessary precautions, and almost shredded my own mind in the process.

Did I… did I have a death wish?

I paused, considering the question. I didn't think I wanted to die, not really. But I certainly did have a "get me the fuck out of this hellhole" wish, and at this point, I was willing to try just about anything to make it happen. It could be some form of depression. I mean, I was surrounded by psychopaths, and I had no real support system to speak of. It was a recipe for a mental breakdown.

So yeah, maybe I was a little depressed.

"Jesus Christ…" I muttered, slowly rubbing my temples. "I need a therapist."

Probably a whole team of them.

I forced myself to stand up, breathing the cool night air and staring up at the two moons hanging in the inky sky. The larger one was a pale, creamy white, while the smaller one was slightly reddish, like dried blood. Beautiful, if a bit ominous, like everything else in this world.

Had I actually damaged my brain? I'd lost a few hours of Wei Fan's life, a few memories of my own, but that was the most I could tell. I didn't give a shit about Wei Fan's memories, but I certainly cared about mine. Fuck. What if I'd lost something important? Something that defined who I was?

I stood there for a while, staring at the alien sky, trying to find any gaps in my memory. I remembered my name, my age, my family, my friends, my job, my hobbies, my hopes, my dreams, my fears. I remembered the taste of coffee, the smell of rain, the feel of a soft blanket on a cold night. I remembered the plot of every single episode of The Office. I remembered my social security number.

My thoughts drifted to this new life. I thought about Wei Fan, about Wei Ling, about the Crimson Blade Sect, about cultivation, about demons, about the sheer, unrelenting awfulness of it all. I thought about the culling, about Feng Yao, about the Hammer-tail, about the Creeper. I thought about the memory-shredding, the hunger, the fear, the rage, the pleasure.

Eventually, I ran out of things to think about.

I felt better.

I wasn't sure how or why, but I did.

Maybe I just needed a moment to have a proper existential crisis. Accept my situation once and for all. Acknowledge the sheer absurdity of it, and then move on.

I didn't want to die. I didn't want to give up. That much was clear. There was no reason to give up. I was a Sliver-grade genius in Mind cultivation, I was a transmigrator with two sets of memories, and I had a sister that was probably one of the strongest Third Realm cultivators in this entire region. I had a lot of advantages, I just needed to learn how to use them properly.

So… now what?

Well, I still had two more heads to dissect… and I was running out of time.

I glanced at the mutilated head at my feet, still oozing black sludge all over the forest floor. I'd have to bury it, along with the other two, once I was done. I couldn't leave any evidence behind.

Thankfully, now that I knew how solid the Upper Dantian was, I could be a lot rougher with the extraction process. I didn't need a clean cut. I just needed to smash the skull open and dig it out.

And that's exactly what I did.

/-/​

"What took you so long?!" Feng Yao was on me the moment I stepped back into the courtyard. She was covered in blood from head to toe, and there were pink bits of demonic intestines in her hair. She was also glaring at me with a look of pure murder in her eyes. "I had to harvest all of these by myself, you lazy piece of shit."

Good. I hoped she had suffered through every moment of it.

"Sorry," I said, making sure to not sound sorry at all. "Stomach problems. You know how it is."

"You…! You little…!"

"Put my share of the loot in one of these sacks," I said, pointing to a stack of empty sacks that one of the inner disciples was handing out. "I'll be back for it later." I pushed past her, ignoring her sputtering, and headed straight for Instructor Bai.

The man was standing near the center of the courtyard, arms crossed, watching the outer disciples across the courtyard desecrating the remains of the demonic beasts with varying degrees of competence. Which was to say, they were mostly just hacking away at the corpses like a bunch of drunken butchers. Which was probably why he looked so disgusted.

I made sure to bow deeply before I spoke. "Instructor Bai," I said. "This disciple would like to volunteer for carcass disposal duty, if the honorable Instructor would allow such a humble disciple to undertake such a vital—"

"Drop the groveling act Wei Fan, it's making me sick." He grunted, not even turning to look at me. "I gave you a pass when you were making your case for not fighting Li Hu. It was appropriate then. It is not appropriate now."

"…right," I said, straightening up awkwardly. Apparently, the ancient Chinese tradition of kowtowing to your betters wasn't as effective when you were a known degenerate. Good to know. "I'll help take the carcasses to the Beast Pens," I said, changing my tone to something less formal.

"And why, pray tell, would you want to do that?" he asked, finally turning to me. "It's a shit job. You'll be covered in filth, you'll be stinking for days, and you'll get a pittance for your efforts. You've earned enough from your kills to buy a month's worth of decent food. Why not just take your rewards and go?"

"Well," I began, my mind racing to come up with a plausible lie and failing miserably. "It's for… for the… uh… um…" Damn it, I didn't think it would be this hard to fucking volunteer for a shit job. What the hell did this guy want? "You see, I—"

"—have a debt to pay," Instructor Bai finished for me. "So you thought you would skim a bit off the top. A few extra organs, a few strips of hide, maybe a vial or two of blood. Sell them on the black market. Make a quick profit. Is that it?" I opened my mouth to object, but he cut me off with the wad of phlegm he spat on the ground right next to my foot. "You're a predictable little weasel, Wei Fan. And a stupid one, at that. Do you really think you're the first disciple to have this brilliant idea? Do you think the sect doesn't have measures in place to prevent this sort of thing?"

Honestly… no. I didn't think the sect had measures in place to prevent this sort of thing, because this sect was a dysfunctional mess run by a bunch of incompetent morons.

But it seemed like my earlier paranoia had been completely warranted. It was even worse than I'd thought, actually, because apparently I wouldn't even have a chance to get inside the Beast Pens in the first place.

"The Beast Pens are a restricted area," Instructor Bai continued in a menacing tone. "Every carcass is weighed and logged on entry. Every organ is accounted for. Every drop of blood is measured. There are guards, there are arrays, and there are eyes everywhere. If you're caught stealing, you'll be flogged. If you're caught a second time, you'll be fed to the beasts yourself. Is that clear?"

"Crystal."

Well, it seemed like I'd gotten extremely lucky with my impromptu forest dissection.

"Instructor," I tried again, "I assure you, I wasn't planning on stealing anything. I was just hoping to—"

"Save it, Wei Fan, I don't care what you were 'hoping' to do. The answer is no. You will clean the courtyard with the rest of your peers. And you will do it with your tongue, if you keep wasting my time. Now get out of my sight."

Well, shit. So much for that plan.

I turned to leave, but he called me back. "Disciple Wei."

I turned back.

"You did good tonight," he said gruffly. "You were lucky, but you were also smart. You knew your limits, you knew when to retreat, and you knew when to strike. Most disciples your age would have panicked and gotten themselves mauled. You didn't. You kept your head. I respect that." He paused. "Don't let it go to your head."

I frowned. The man had just threatened to make me lick the courtyard clean. Why was he suddenly complimenting me?

"Has your sister been training you?" he asked casually. Too casually.

"No, Instructor," I said, shaking my head. "She's been… busy."

He nodded. "A core disciple's schedule is a demanding one," he agreed. "But she is an invaluable resource that you would be a fool not to take advantage of. Her understanding of the Crimson Blade Path is second to none." He gave me a long, searching look. "But you already know that, don't you? You knew that, and yet you spent the last few years of your life squandering your potential. Wasting your time on frivolous pursuits. Disgracing your clan. Disappointing your sister." He took a step closer. "So what changed, Disciple Wei? What was it that finally lit a fire under your ass?"

I stepped back. To give myself a moment to think, sure, but also because the man's breath smelled like fermented fish guts.

He was fishing for information. I'd been acting like a model disciple out of the blue, and he wanted to know why. I should have realized that it wasn't just Wei Ling and Feng Yao who had noticed the change.

"I decided to make more of an effort," I said carefully. "For my own safety. The war with the Serpent Fists is coming, after all. I don't want to be cannon fodder."

He snorted, unimpressed. "You are Wei Ling's brother. You will never be cannon fodder. She would sooner burn down the entire sect than let that happen." He looked me up and down, his gaze lingering on the bruises on my face and the stains of black sludge on my robes. "You've made it to the end of the culling, Disciple Wei," he said. "Are you going to participate in the final event?"

Absolutely fucking not.

I shrugged. "As you said, the possessed cultivator is a Second Realm host with a millennium of combat experience. I'd be a fool to face him. My luck has run out for the night, Instructor. I know when to quit."

He stared at me for a moment, then let out a disappointed sigh. "I thought as much. A pity. A man who does not know when to quit is a fool. A man who quits too easily is a coward." He turned away, his interest in me apparently exhausted. "Dismissed."

I bowed again and walked away, feeling his eyes on my back. Whatever he was trying to figure out, I hoped he wouldn't figure it out anytime soon. I had enough problems as it was.

On my way to my pile of corpses I saw the pregnant woman, Li Hu's partner, covered in blood and bits of lizard flesh, struggling to drag a sack full of Lower Dantians that was almost as big as she was. Li Hu was nowhere to be seen. It looked like I wasn't the only one who had left their partner to do all the work.

Thankfully, my precious demonic heads remained where I'd left them, untouched. I stood there for a moment, staring at the pile.

How was I going to get the Upper Dantians out of this place? They weren't going to let me take the heads for no reason.

"Here," Feng Yao said with a scowl, tossing a bloody sack at my feet. It landed with a wet thud. "Your share. Don't say I never did anything for you." She was still covered in gore, but she'd managed to wipe most of the intestines out of her hair.

I opened the sack and peered inside. Thirty-five Lower Dantians, mostly lizard and creeper, ranging in size from a golf ball to a grapefruit. A massive haul for a First Realm loser who up until tonight had never made it past the halfway point of a culling.

"Where's the Hammer-tail's Dantian?" I asked, frowning at the absence of anything remotely resembling the size of a basketball. "That was the highest-tier beast. Its Lower Dantian is worth five of these combined."

"Which is why I'm giving you five extra Dantians to compensate," she said, tapping her foot impatiently. "I did most of the work on that one, remember? So I get the bigger prize. It's only fair."

She did "most of the work" by pushing me in front of it. It should have been mine.

But there was no point in arguing with her about it. I wasn't actually going to consume these Lower Dantians for my Body cultivation, because I wasn't a masochist who enjoyed punching brick walls until my brain leaked out of my ears. So, the exact distribution of the loot was irrelevant. As long as I was getting equal market value for my share, I was fine with it.

"Aright, I'll take it," I said, tying the sack shut. But you're still a bitch.

"Oh, you'll take it?" she sneered. "How generous of you." She tossed her hair, which was still a little sticky. "After leaving me to do all the gutting, you're lucky I'm giving you anything at all."

"Whatever…"

"'Whatever?'" She frowned, leaning in closer. "Is that all you have to say to me? After I saved your ass multiple times tonight? After— Wait a second. Are you fucking high right now?"

I stared at her blankly for a second. "What?"

"Your eyes," she said, poking me in the cheek. "They're all… dilated. And you smell like vomit. What did you do out there?"

"Nothing."

"Bullshit," she said, grabbing my arm. "You're a piece shit, you know that? You left me to do all the work so you could go get high on Lin Tao's crap? I should have let that Hammer-tail eat you."

The nerve of this woman…

I took a deep breath, and then found myself relaxing surprisingly easily. Actually, that worked out. It was good cover. It made me seem less suspicious. And it was exactly the kind of thing Wei Fan would have done.

I shrugged. "He had some new stuff. Said it would make me feel like I was floating on a cloud." I paused. "He wasn't wrong."

For a second, I actually thought she was going to tear my throat out. The look on her face was absolutely murderous. But then she just… laughed. A long, drawn-out, and, quite frankly, insane laugh. "Of course you did," she said, shaking her head. "Of course you did." She gave me fond smile, and then pulled me into a hug. A full-on, rib-crushing hug. "You're lucky you're cute, you know that?" she whispered in my ear. "If you weren't, I would have killed you by now."

I didn't say anything. I just stood there, awkwardly patting her on the back. Obviously, now that I'd gotten what I needed from this psychopath, it was time to cut ties.

And never, ever, speak to her again.

She pulled back, still smiling, then glanced at the pile of heads nearby. "So, are you still planning on stealing those and then selling them to Pill Master Zhao?"

I'd told her earlier that I planned on selling the heads to Pill Master Zhao as an excuse for collecting them. Obviously, since we were only allowed to extract the Lower Dantians from the corpses, she'd likely assumed that I planned on sneaking a couple of heads out of the Beast Pens and selling them to Zhao later on. That was actually a pretty solid plan. A solid plan to get three heads. Maybe two. I wanted all of them.

"So which ones are the most valuable?" she asked, kicking one of the heads with the tip of her boot. "I've heard the Scythe-tails have a gland that can be used to treat impotence. Is that true?"

"Keep your voice down," I said, glancing around. The inner disciples who were handing out the burlap sacks weren't just handing out burlap sacks. They were also watching.

"Relax, sweetheart, everyone takes a few extra bits and pieces. As long as you're not too greedy, no one cares." She reached into her own sack and pulled out a handful of bloody teeth. "From the Hammer-tail. You crush them into a powder and snort it. Makes the whole purification process a lot more bearable."

I stared at the teeth in her palm. Long, curved, and wickedly sharp, stained a dark, rusty brown. No wonder this entire sect was full of lunatics. They were all high on demonic beast parts.

I sighed. Regardless, none of that was news to me. I'd already known that everyone took a few extra bits and pieces (Wei Fan, for example, liked to steal the fingernails from the Spiked-tongue Creepers and chew on them, supposedly as a mild stimulant) so stealing a single head, maybe two, would be doable.

The problem was that I wanted more than one or two. I wanted all of them. No, I needed all of them. It was non-negotiable that I left this place with those Upper Dantians.

I scanned the courtyard again, trying to come up with a new plan. Most of the outer disciples, the ones who hadn't won any Lower Dantians, were starting to clean up the mess now. They were sweeping the blood and guts into piles, and then shoveling the piles into wheelbarrows. The wheelbarrows were then taken to a large pit at the edge of the courtyard, where the contents were dumped. Those were considered the unusable remains, the bits and pieces that weren't worth salvaging.

But who was overseeing this process? If there was no oversight….

There was. Pill Master Zhao had arrived. He was taking notes on a clipboard while moving from pile to pile, several assistants following behind him with large, metal buckets.

"So how do you want to do it?" Feng Yao asked. "You want me to cover for you while you stuff a few of these in your sack, or…?"

"No." I said, an idea forming in my head. "There's a better way. Stay here. Don't let anyone touch my heads."

"You know it sounds like a euphemism when you say it like that, right?"

I ignored her and strode over to Pill Master Zhao, my mind racing. There were several ways I could play this, but none that would likely work on their own. I would have to combine them.

I didn't bow this time, or planned on groveling. Lesson learned. I just walked up to him and stood there, waiting for him to acknowledge me. He was busy examining a pile of intestines, poking at them with a long, metal rod. "Hmm, see here, students?" he said to the assistants trailing him. "The lining of the small intestine is unusually thick. A sign of a high-fiber diet. Fascinating." He made a note on his clipboard. "We'll take the entire digestive tract of this one. And the liver. The rest can be incinerated. Now, who can tell me why a fearsome demonic beast such as this would subsist on a diet of plants?"

"It doesn't," one of the assistants cut in immediately. "The plants were tainted with Demonic Qi, Master Zhao. So the beast was actually consuming Demonic Qi, not—"

"Yes, yes, very good, Disciple Wu," Zhao said impatiently. "Now, what was I— Oh, Wei Fan. Still alive, I see. A pity. I was hoping to dissect you."

That joke would have been kind of funny if I hadn't known for a fact that he was only half-joking. "Pill Master Zhao," I said, ignoring the dirty looks several of his assistants were sending me. Wei Fan had apparently slept with one of them. Or maybe two. It was hard to keep track. "I believe I have something that might interest you. May we have a word in private?"

"In private?" he asked, raising a skeptical eyebrow. "And why, pray tell, would I want to speak with you in private? Do you have some rare, exotic disease you wish to share with me? A particularly interesting deformity? A third testicle, perhaps?"

His assistants snickered. I ignored them. "Just a few steps away, Pill Master," I said, gesturing towards a less crowded corner of the courtyard. "It will only take a moment."

He gave me a long, appraising look, then shrugged. "Very well. But make it quick. I have important work to do. Disciple Wu!" He snapped his fingers. "Since you are so eager to demonstrate your knowledge, you may continue the dissection of this magnificent specimen without me. Do try not to ruin it."

"Yes, Master Zhao," Disciple Wu said, bowing deeply. "This disciple will not disappoint you." He glared at me as Pill Master Zhao and I walked away.

I led Zhao as far away as I felt I could away with without arousing his suspicion, and then stopped near the large pit where the unusable remains were being dumped. It was still a bit too close to the crowd for my liking, but it would have to do.

"If your plan is to assassinate me and throw my body into that pit," Pill Master Zhao said, "I must warn you that I am a Third Realm cultivator with a particularly nasty set of poison needles hidden in my sleeves. I would advise against it."

"What? No, I…" I blinked, taken aback. Damn it, why did this guy have to be so weird about everything? "I'm not trying to… assassinate you. I have a business proposal."

"Not interested."

"Wait!" I said, grabbing his arm before he could walk away. "Just hear me out."

"Wei Fan…" he sighed, shaking his head. "You're speaking in full sentences. And you're being polite. And your eyes are not bloodshot. All of which are deeply unsettling. So, unless you have something truly extraordinary to offer, I suggest you release my arm before I am forced to paralyze you from the neck down and leave you here to be eaten by rats."

I very quickly released his arm. "I want to make a trade," I said before he could leave. "A simple one. My haul of Lower Dantians from the night for all the heads I've collected. A straight swap. No questions asked."

That got his attention. "For all the heads you've collected?" he asked, frowning "And how many heads would that be?"

I pointed to the pile of corpses that Feng Yao and I had accumulated. "All of them."

Zhao stared at the pile, then specifically at the mound of severed heads, then back at me. "You made it to the end of the culling," he said, sounding surprised. "Impressive. Most impressive." He stroked his chin thoughtfully. "And you're willing to trade all of your hard-won Dantians for a pile of rotting heads? Why?"

"I have a contact in the mortal town," I said, improvising. "A merchant from the Central Plains. An enthusiast. Collects rare specimens. Pays well for intact heads. More than I would make from selling the Dantians."

"Selling the Dantians?" Zhao asked. "Why would you sell them? Are you not a Body cultivator? Do you not need them for your own advancement?"

Oh shit. He was right. That didn't make any sense.

"Ideally, yes, I would have consumed them myself," I said, thinking fast. "But I've recently… come into some financial difficulties. I need the spirit stones more than I need the Qi, so trading you the Dantians for the heads, and then selling the heads, is the most profitable course of action. I'm sure a man of your… uh… business acumen can appreciate the logic."

"A man of my business acumen would perhaps attempt to cut the middleman out," Zhao pointed out. "And deal with this 'merchant' directly. Why don't you give me his name, and I will see to it that you receive a generous finder's fee?"

That greedy, weaselly bastard…

"Well seeing that I nearly died to acquire said heads in such a pristine condition, I'm sure a man of your business acumen can understand my reluctance to share my sources," I said with a tight smile. "I'm sure you can also understand that if you try to muscle me out of this deal, I will simply find another alchemist to trade with. There are plenty of them in the sect, after all. And I hear Pill Master Feng is always looking for new suppliers."

"Tsk, tsk," Zhao clicked his tongue. "Such a shame that Pill Master Feng is currently under investigation for… certain… ethical violations. He will not be taking any new suppliers for the foreseeable future." He gave me a knowing smile. "Besides, you do realize that you just confessed to me that you intend to sell sect property to an outsider, do you not? A crime that is punishable by… let's see… oh, yes. Public disembowelment."

I tried not to flinch. "You're not going to report me."

"Oh, am I not? And why is that?"

Time to use the nuclear option. I hoped I wouldn't have to spell this out, but I really didn't see any other way.

I gave him a meaningful look, lowering my voice. "You know, it's funny that you mentioned ethical violations, actually, because I happen to know one very unstable core disciple prodigy who is currently under the impression that you've been conducting some of your own 'ethical violations' on her brother during his last stay in your infirmary. You know, the kind of 'ethical violations' that involve experimental pills and unsolicited mind-altering procedures. I'm sure she—"

"What?! But I never—" Zhao's eyes widened in alarm. "That is a baseless accusation! Slander! I would never—"

"Of course, of course," I said, holding up my hands in a placating gesture. "I know that. You know that. But does she know that?" I gave him a hard look. "I'm not sure she does. In fact, she did mention something about a cauldron of piss. And a dick." Zhao's face paled several shades. "Now, the thing is," I continued without mercy, "I would like to clear your name. I really would. But Wei Ling… you know her, changing her mind about something is a bit like trying to convince a mountain to move. It's a long, arduous process. Now with all the debts I have to pay, changing her mind about that… I just don't have the time. You understand, I'm sure."

That should do it. The nuclear option. I didn't want to pull the sister card, I really didn't. And I knew that extorting high-ranking members of the sect like this was a terrible, terrible idea in the long run. So terrible, in fact, that even Wei Fan had never dared to do it. But I was desperate. And desperate times called for desperate measures.

In any case, I didn't intend to stay in this hellhole for much longer anyway.

Zhao was silent for a long moment. He was clearly weighing his options, and I was pretty sure that at least one of them involved me ending up in that pit. But then, to my surprise, he just… laughed. A dry, rasping sound like dead leaves skittering across the pavement.

"Ah, Wei Fan, Wei Fan, Wei Fan," he said, shaking his head. "You are a far more interesting specimen than I gave you credit for. Very well. You have a deal." He extended a skeletal hand. "Give me the sack. You may take your heads. And do tell your sister that I am a man of science, not a common criminal. My experiments are always conducted with the utmost care and precision. And always on willing subjects."

I shook his hand, relieved that he hadn't called my bluff. His grip was far stronger than my own, and his skin was as cold as a corpse's. "Of course, Pill Master," I said, handing him the sack of Dantians. "I'll be sure to pass on the message. But how do you propose I walk out of here with a sack full of heads?"

"I suppose that would indeed be a problem," he mused, tapping his chin. "Very well. I will keep the heads in my private laboratory for you. You may collect them at your convenience."

"Out of the question! I—"

"Come on now, Wei Fan, unless you're acquainted with the exact preservation liquid you'll need to use for each specimen, and the exact concentration of Qi-infused salt that needs to be added to the solution to prevent decay, I suggest you let the professionals handle it."

I paused at that. "No I—"

"Oh? Your enthusiast merchant friend from the Central Plains didn't mention any of that? A rather glaring omission, don't you think? Almost as if he doesn't actually exist."

"I—"

"I don't care," Zhao said flatly, his smile vanishing. "I don't care if he exists. I don't care what you do with the heads. I don't care if you eat them for breakfast. All I care about is that you get your sister off my back. Is that understood?"

The sudden murderous intent that radiated from the old man nearly made me stumble backwards. I almost fell into the pit of guts. "Understood," I said, nodding quickly. "Perfectly understood."

Zhao's smile returned, as if nothing had happened. "Excellent. Then I will see you in my laboratory tomorrow."

With that, he turned and walked away with my sack of Dantians, leaving me to stare after him, my heart still pounding in my chest.

So that was… a success? I think. Probably.

I walked back to Feng Yao and collapsed against the massive body of the Hammer-Tail.

And then promptly groaned in annoyance when I realized that I hadn't tried to squeeze the massive Hammer-tail head into the deal. I'd only pointed to the pile of smaller heads.

Goddammit, I was an idiot.

Eh, never mind. Zhao probably wouldn't have agreed, anyway. I was already pushing my luck as it was, and it would have been foolish to push him any further. Better to be content with what I had, and focus on the next step.

"Well? What was that all about?" Feng Yao asked, nudging me with her foot. "You two looked like you were plotting a murder."

"Nothing. It didn't work out," I grunted.

"Didn't work out?" she scoffed. "You gave him your entire haul. What did you get in return?"

I stood up without answering and walked away. She said something angrily behind me, but I didn't bother listening. I'd gotten what I needed from her, and I had no intention of interacting with her ever again if I could help it.

I slipped into the crowd of disciples who were still cleaning the courtyard, grabbed a shovel, and started shoveling guts, keeping my head down and trying to blend in. A short while after, Instructor Bai announced that the final event was about to begin, and everyone who wasn't participating gathered around the blood dome to watch. I found a spot at the back of the crowd, far away from Feng Yao, and leaned against the courtyard wall, trying to make myself as inconspicuous as possible. I was tired, I was sore, and I was in no mood for any more bloodshed. I just wanted this night to be over.

What followed was a very long, boring speech from Instructor Bai, which was then followed by the actual show. The possessed cultivator, with his blank, empty eyes and decaying skin, was released into the arena, and the few outer disciples who had managed to survive the culling lined up to face him. Li Hu. Lin Tao. Feng Yao. And another guy who I vaguely recognized as one of Lin Tao's lackeys. He looked like a vending machine with legs, and he was the first to go.

Vending machine entered the arena, charged at the possessed cultivator with a roar, and then promptly got his head twisted around 180 degrees.

He didn't actually die, thanks to Instructor Bai's blood whips yanking him out of the arena at the last second, but he was definitely not going to be turning his head for a while.

Next was Lin Tao, who did a lot better. He openly popped several pills before the fight (despite the instructor's dirty look), and then managed to last a good thirty seconds before getting his arm broken in three places. The possessed cultivator hadn't even used any techniques. He just moved like the freaking terminator. Jerking and twitching and always, always in the right place at the right time. Instructor's Bai's whips took a suspiciously long time to intervene this time. Lin Tao was screaming his lungs out by the end of it.

Feng Yao lasted a full minute, her Thousand Cuts Palm technique proving effective against an unhittable murder machine that twitched unpredictably and countered every strike. She managed to pepper him with dozens of tiny cuts, and he was bleeding from a hundred different places by the time he finally got a hand on her, but the moment he did, it was over. He just grabbed her by the ankle, swung her around like a rag doll, and then slammed her into the ground, dislocating her shoulder.

She screamed like a banshee, and this time, Instructor Bai's whips were lightning-fast, yanking her out of the arena before the possessed cultivator could stomp her head into a pulp. A pity.

Finally, it was my good friend Li Hu's turn. The pregnant woman gave him a good luck hug before he entered the arena, and then stood at the edge of the blood dome, her hands clasped in prayer.

It was a surprisingly touching scene, and for a moment, I almost found myself rooting for him. Until I remembered that he was a dick who had tried to kill me in a duel, and was probably still planning on killing me at the first opportunity. So, yeah. Go, possessed guy.

The titular Crimson Blade made another appearance, and Li Hu, this time, seemed to have a much better handle on it. He didn't just swing it wildly. He maneuvered it into a quick series of stabs, thrusting it forward and then retracting it, using the blade's reach to maintain a safe distance. It was actually quite impressive, but it wasn't enough, and the possessed cultivator dodged everything with that same ugly jerky, inhuman grace. Once Li Hu ran out of juice to power the Crimson Blade, it was basically over. The possessed cultivator sidestepped his sword, grabbed him by the throat, and then slammed him into the ground with a force that made the entire courtyard shake.

Bai's whips were practically instantaneous this time, but Li Hu was still out cold when they pulled him out.

"Alright, the show's over," Instructor Bai announced. "The possessed cultivator remains undefeated. A pathetic display, all of you. Clean up this mess. I want this courtyard spotless by sunrise."

By… sunrise.

I looked around the courtyard, taking in the sheer scale of the mess. It wasn't usually that bad according to Wei Fan's memories. This must have been the most brutal culling the outer sect had seen in years. There were pools of blood everywhere, piles of guts, and the stench was so thick you could almost taste it.

I picked up my shovel and started shoveling guts again, sighing inwardly.

It was possible, if extremely unlikely, that I would be able to spot an Upper Dantian in one of the piles of guts, one that had been dislodged from a head during the fighting. It was a long shot, but I had nothing better to do.

I kept my eyes glued to the ground all night.

Chapter 22 - The Weight of a Name

The one major problem I'd been facing since waking up in this world was one of a chronic lack of time. I had a million things to do, a million things to learn, and only a few precious hours a day to do them in. Now I'd only decided to stay in this sect because all evidence pointed to the outside world being even worse, and leaving without adequate preparation was a death sentence. But the downside of staying was that I was trapped in a rigid, unforgiving system that demanded a significant portion of my time and energy, and left me with very little room to maneuver.

I mean, take today for example. I should have obviously gone to Zhao's lab first thing in the morning to collect my heads. Should have, that is, had I not been forced to spend that entire fucking morning essentially boiling myself in a pool of Blood Qi-infused lava with the rest of the outer sect disciples. It was a mandatory "Skin Tempering " ritual that happened once a month, and it was just as pleasant as it sounded.

For context, we were all crammed into a small, steaming cavern, sitting naked in individual pits filled with a bubbling, blood-red liquid that was heated by a network of geothermal vents. A liquid that certainly was (if it wasn't clear from the "lava" part) hot. So hot that my skin was blistering, my hair was singeing, and my eyeballs felt like they were about to melt. I could hardly last ten seconds in that thing before I had to get out, and even then, the brief moments of respite offered by the slightly-less-scalding air did little to stave off the inevitable effects of prolonged exposure. I was pretty sure that what wasn't being steamed was being boiled, and what wasn't being boiled was just plain burned. It was fucking miserable.

The rest of the day wasn't much better. Noon was wasted on an "Advanced Footwork" class that was really just an excuse for Elder Mao to make us run up and down a mountain for three hours while he threw rocks at us, and the afternoon was wasted on another lovely stance-holding propaganda session under the scorching sun. By the time evening drills arrived I knew there was no chance Zhao would still be in his lab, so I had to postpone getting my precious heads until the next day. Which was an unacceptable delay, but there was nothing I could do about it at that point.

All of this was to say that I clearly needed to figure out exactly how many days I could blow off without getting myself locked in an iron coffin for days on end for shirking my duties.

Thankfully, there was a fairly simple way to do that.

I just had to visit the Hall of Records, the sect's administrative hub, and check my infraction points.

Which I would get to, eventually.

"We will now begin the bone-strengthening exercises," Elder Mao announced, his voice echoing across the training grounds. "For those of you who are still somehow unaware of the glorious steps a Body cultivator must take in order to ascend. Let me enlighten you. The first step is to temper your skin, making it as tough as leather. The second is to temper your muscles, making them as strong as steel. And the third is to temper your bones, making them as hard as iron. Then, and only then, you may attempt to break through to the Second Realm." He paced back and forth in front of us, his hands clasped behind his back. "Most of you have been stuck on that third step for years. Why? Because you are weak. You are afraid of pain. You lack the will to see it through." He stopped in front of a large, steel pillar, a pillar that was covered in dents and splattered with old, dried blood. "But fear not, for today, I will help you overcome your weakness. Today, we will practice the ancient and venerable art of… headbutting a steel pillar."

A couple of brutish guys in the front cheered enthusiastically. The rest of us groaned. I groaned the loudest.

"SILENCE!" Elder Mao snapped. "I will not tolerate such insolence! Do you think this is a game? Do you think I enjoy watching you pathetic worms repeatedly smash your faces into a solid block of metal? Of course I do! But that is beside the point! The point is that foolishly attempting advancement to the Second Realm without a strong endoskeleton will inevitably result in what we in the medical field refer to as 'spontaneous cranial liquefaction.' Which, in layman's terms, means your head will explode. So, unless you wish to end up as a headless corpse in a ditch somewhere, I suggest you take this exercise very, very seriously." He gestured to the pillar. "The benchmark for a peak First Realm cultivator is to be able to headbutt this pillar a hundred times without passing out. If you can do that, you are ready to attempt a breakthrough. If you can't, you are not. It's as simple as that. Now, line up. Single file. You first, Disciple Li."

I watched as Li Hu stepped forward and proceeded to slam his forehead into the steel pillar with such force that I winced just watching him.

Then the chanting began.

"TEMPER THE SKULL TO CRACK THE HEAVENS! TEMPER THE SOUL TO SUNDER THE NETHERS! FUCK THE WOMAN TO MAKE HER WETTER! MAKE HER SCREAM AND BEG FOR BETTER!"

…I really wasn't sure how that last part of the chant fit into the whole bone-strengthening theme, but it was definitely the part that almost everyone—even the female disciples—seemed to enjoy the most.

I joined in to avoid getting yelled at.

"TEMPER THE SKULL TO CRACK THE HEAVENS! TEMPER THE SOUL TO SUNDER THE NETHERS! FUCK THE WOMAN TO MAKE HER WETTER! MAKE HER SCREAM AND BEG FOR BETTER!"

Li Hu finished his hundred headbutts in under two minutes, and the next disciple, a lanky kid with a nervous twitch, stepped up to the pillar. He lasted all of three headbutts before passing out. Elder Mao just kicked him out of the way and called for the next one.

I sighed and shook my head as my own turn approached. "This is fucking stupid…"

The last time Wei Fan had tried this, he'd passed out after the seventy-third headbutt, and it'd taken him a week to recover from the resulting concussion. He'd also started bleeding from his nose, his eyes, and his ears… but that had still counted as a solid effort, because seventy-three was apparently the average for most third-stage First Realm disciples. It meant that he'd actually been pretty close to being ready to try for a breakthrough, as idiotic as that was.

Unfortunately, that also meant that I now had some expectations to live up to. I couldn't just tap the pillar a few times and then pretend to faint. Elder Mao would see right through it. And I also couldn't exactly explain that my aptitude had been downgraded from yellow to orange and that I was now a silver-grade Mind cultivation genius who really didn't want to risk his precious brain cells smashing them against a steel pillar.

All of this just to say that I was, for lack of a better word, fucked.

"Wei Fan, you may begin," Elder Mao barked, and I stepped forward reluctantly. "I seem to recall that your last attempt was… adequate. Let's see if you can do better this time."

"Er… yes. Of course, Honorable Elder. This disciple will do his best to smash his face into this pillar with all the enthusiasm and vigor that a loyal disciple of this glorious Crimson Blade Sect can possibly muster."

Elder Mao was one of the few elders that seemed to actually enjoy the blatant fake groveling, so I figured I might as well lean into it.

"Well said, Disciple Wei," Elder Mao nodded in approval. "Well said indeed. Now get on with it."

I got on with it. It sucked.

I actually did better this time, though, but not by much. I somehow managed to get to seventy-nine before the world started spinning and my vision went blurry, at which point I just sort of leaned into the pillar and let myself slide to the ground, groaning pathetically. It hurt like a motherfucker, but the worst of it was literally being able to see my Dream Qi slowly, but steadily, leaking out of my forehead with every impact. I was also pretty sure that my Mind meridians had sustained some damage as well, which probably meant that my literal neurons had been damaged. And let me tell you, seeing yourself literally becoming dumber with every passing second was not the most pleasant of experiences.

"A fine effort, Disciple Wei," Elder Mao said, sounding almost pleased. "You are close. Very close. A few more sessions, and you will be ready."

"Thank you, Honorable Elder," I mumbled, trying not to vomit. "This disciple is… honored… by your… guidance."

"And I am honored to have such a diligent disciple under my tutelage," he said, patting me on the head. It was a gesture that would have been comforting, if his hand wasn't the size of a shovel and his touch wasn't like being hit with a bag of bricks. "You have made it to the end of the culling. You have shown great improvement in your stance-holding. And now you have surpassed your previous record in the bone-strengthening exercises. You are on the right path, Disciple Wei. Do not stray from it. Save at least half of the Lower Dantians that you have earned, and when you feel that you are ready, consume them all at once. The resulting surge of Blood Qi will be enough to shatter the barrier between the First and Second Realms. But only attempt this when you are absolutely certain that you are ready. A premature breakthrough attempt will not only fail, but it will also cripple your meridians, leaving you a mortal for the rest of your days. Do you understand?"

"Believe me, Honorable Elder," I said, my voice muffled by the steel pillar I was still leaning against, "I have no intention of attempting a breakthrough before I'm ready."

Which was, in my case, probably never. I mean, sure, theoretically, breaking through to the Second Realm in Body cultivation should help me short-term, because it would give me a much bigger Lower Dantian to work with, and also the ability to project and control Blood Qi outside the body. But long term, if my good teacher Zhou Liang was to be believed, it would be a huge mistake. Cultivating two different Ways would only weaken both.

"Do not forget the war with the Serpent Fists is fast approaching," Elder Mao added. "Your survival depends on your strength. Do not disappoint me, Disciple Wei. Do not disappoint your sister."

"I will not," I said, pushing myself up. "I will not disappoint anyone."

Because I was going to get the hell out of here before this whole sect went up in flames.

"Hmph, very well. Dismissed."

I let out a sigh of relief, then finally dragged my itchy, red, bruised, and now thoroughly concussed body out of the training grounds. As had become customary for me, I focused inward as I walked.

My entire Mind meridian system was still practically saturated with Dream Qi from last night's successful absorption, with so much extra spillage from my Upper Dantian that it was honestly starting to feel a little bit uncomfortable. Some pressure had been released over the day—most of it during the skull-cracking session—but there was still a significant surplus, and I was starting to consider burning some of it on the wasteful Qi-washing procedure instead of just letting it "sit" stagnant. What was actually happening here, anyway? Were my meridians now statically charged with electricity? Were they under pressure? Was the pressure going to damage them in the long run? It didn't feel like they were being damaged. In fact, it felt like they were being nourished, but I couldn't be sure. Maybe it was beneficial, but up to a certain point, and then it would start causing problems.

Interestingly, it also felt like my Mind meridians were actively healing now. I "squinted" my Mind Qi perception, focusing on the pathways that had been damaged during the headbutting exercise earlier. It definitely seemed that way. There was a subtle, almost imperceptible tingling sensation that was distinct from the general feeling of 'fullness' I'd been experiencing. It was like the damaged meridians were little cracks in a dam, and the flood of Dream Qi was slowly plugging those cracks.

Huh, was that how I'd managed to tank six extra headbutts compared to Wei Fan's last performance? I hadn't thought about it like that, but it made a lot of sense. If my Mind meridians were constantly healing themselves, that meant I could withstand a lot more brain trauma than a normal Body cultivator. My skull was probably a bit weaker than Wei Fan's, given the downgrade in aptitude, but I could probably make up for it with the healing factor.

I watched the tiny tears in my meridians slowly seal themselves. Hopefully, the newly repaired pathways would be stronger than before. That was how it worked for muscles, wasn't it? Micro-tears, followed by repair and growth. Maybe it was the same for meridians.

…except Mind meridians were more like neurons than muscle fibers, so I wasn't sure if the analogy held. Neurons didn't really grow back, did they?

I sighed and shook my head. There was so much I didn't know about Mind cultivation that really any of this could just be a placebo effect. I needed to get my hands on some proper manuals.

Or at the very least, figure out what the fuck happened to me during the absorption process last night, because clearly, I'd done something incredibly dangerous and stupid.

Where would I find resources about Mind cultivation, though? The Outer Disciple Library was a bust, and the Inner Disciple Library was off-limits. Which left… the mortal town at the base of the mountain. No. Too poor to have any cultivation manuals. There were bigger settlements further down the valley, but going that far would take days, and I didn't have that kind of time. Could I ask Wei Ling to fly me there? Well, sure, I could ask, but the result would be her asking me a million questions, and me having to lie, and just overall risking something terrible happening.

Nevertheless, regardless of how I was going to approach this, I couldn't do anything if I was too busy headbutting steel pillars and boiling myself in lava. I had to carve out some free time, and that meant figuring out exactly how much slack I could cut myself without getting into serious trouble.

I took a sharp turn towards the Hall of Records.

It was time to see how much my good behavior had paid off.

/-/

​The Crimson Blade Sect was a fairly primitive sect where it came to crystal technology, so they didn't keep their records in a centralized crystal-based database or anything like that. There was a "public information wall," a large, smooth slab of black stone that displayed the top fifty disciples in various categories—highest contribution points, most missions completed, most kills in the last culling, etc.—but that was about it. Everything else was stored in physical scrolls, and physical ledgers, and physical filing cabinets, and all the information was manually transcribed and updated by a team of overworked and underpaid mortal clerks.

Which meant that, unfortunately, you had to talk to one of these clerks to access any of the information, and that was never a pleasant experience.

I approached the counter, where a bored-looking woman with a sour expression was stamping scrolls with a wax seal. "Name?" she asked without looking up.

"Wei Fan, outer disciple," I replied.

"Token?"

I handed her my disciple token, a small, crimson-colored piece of jade with my name and clan affiliation carved into it. She took it, swiped it across a white crystal embedded in the counter, and then handed it back to me. A few seconds later, the crystal glowed faintly red in response. It was a simple, binary system that only told them whether you were a sect disciple with their tuition paid for or not. Or in other words, whether they should offer you a service, or call the guards.

"What do you want?" she asked, still not looking at me.

"It's been a while since I've been here. If you could just pull up my full record, that would be great."

"The wall is over there," she said, gesturing vaguely with her chin. "If you want to see how you rank against the other disciples."

"No, I mean my personal record," I said. "Infraction points, contribution points, mission history, all that."

She sighed in annoyance, then finally looked up at me. "You want to see your personal record? That's a lot of work. Do you have any idea how many scrolls I'd have to pull?"

"Well, I'm pretty sure that's your job," I pointed out, puffing out my considerable chest a little. Wei Fan had always been a bit of a dick to the mortal clerks, and while I didn't like it, I also knew that it was the only way to get anything done around here. If you were too polite, they'd just walk all over you.

She didn't look particularly intimidated.

"Look, just get me the records related to my infraction points," I finally relented. "I just want to know how many I have left."

That did the trick. She rolled her eyes, then disappeared into the archives, returning a few minutes later with a single, dusty scroll. There was also a letter attached to it, sealed with the Wei clan's crest. "Here," she said, slapping the scroll on the counter. "And this came for you last cycle."

I frowned down at the letter. "Why didn't this get delivered to my room?" There was a letterbox installed beside the doorframe of every disciple's room. Wei Fan had been using it as a trash bin, but it was still there.

"Because it's a formal notice from your clan," she said with a shrug. "Formal notices are sent to the Hall of Records, not to your room. It's the rules."

Probably privacy concerns or other such bullshit. Ugh, whatever.

I grabbed the scroll first and unrolled it, scanning the contents. Well, let's see…one point for public intoxication… two points for disrespecting a senior disciple… five points for damaging sect property… one point for… uh… urinating in the sacred lotus pond… I was getting a headache just reading this. Fucking Wei Fan, man. Was there anything this guy hadn't done?

Between every couple of rows of transgressions, there was a punishment resetting the points down to zero. Every time, in fact, that Wei Fan had gotten close to the cutoff point of some truly sadistic punishment, the Wei clan had stepped in and cleared off his debt with a hefty donation of spirit stones. So that was some good news.

I quickly noted all the times Wei Fan had skipped a full day of mandatory training, and then calculated the average punishment he'd received. It was… not great. Not great, but still workable.

"So I currently have zero?" I asked the clerk, pointing at the big, bold number at the bottom of the scroll.

She leaned over to look. "Yes," she confirmed. "It looks like you've been doing some extra chores lately. Those add up pretty quickly. I'm always confused when an outer disciple gets to a whipping punishment. It's so easy to avoid."

"Yes, yes, this sect is truly benevolent and fair," I said dryly, rolling up the scroll. "A shining beacon of justice in a dark and cruel world."

She actually scowled at me at that. Not the usual bored frown, but more of an angry scowl. "You are a cultivator. You should be grateful for the opportunities you've been given. Do you know what it's like out there for a mortal? Do you have any idea how many people would kill to be in your position?"

The bitterness in her voice gave me pause. "I guess I don't," I admitted, a little taken aback. "But I do know that my position here isn't exactly a bed of roses."

"Hmph," she huffed and snatched the scroll back from my hands. "If that is all, Young Master Wei, then I must ask you to leave. I have other duties to attend to."

I nodded and left the Hall of Records, letter in hand, feeling a bit conflicted. She had a point, of course. From her perspective, I was an ungrateful brat who was squandering a golden opportunity. And she was a mortal, stuck in a dead-end job, serving a bunch of arrogant, super-powered assholes. She probably had a family to feed, debts to pay, and a whole host of other problems I couldn't even begin to imagine. Honestly, with how bad everything had gone for me so far, I had almost forgotten that I was still one of the lucky ones. I could have been transmigrated into some dirt farmer, or a slave, or one of the countless people that were being used as food for demons. It was an easy thing to forget, when you were constantly surrounded by people with far more power than you, but it was important to remember that things could always be worse.

"Clearly, I'm so, so lucky," I muttered, breaking the seal on the letter as I stepped outside. The letter was from Wei Long, my dear old dad. And it was about as warm and fuzzy as a cactus blanket. "Really, I should be grateful. So grateful…"

-​

To Wei Fan of the Outer Sect,

Let this missive serve as formal notification that the Wei Clan, effective immediately, severs all financial ties with you. Your egregious conduct and the boundless shame you have heaped upon our illustrious name have exhausted our patience and depleted our coffers for the last time.

The monthly stipend previously allotted for your upkeep within the Crimson Blade Sect shall cease. The Wei Clan will no longer be responsible for your debts, be they monetary or those accrued through your incessant, ill-advised actions. You are to consider yourself a beggar on the Sect's doorstep, reliant solely upon their meager charity.

Furthermore, be advised that any outstanding accounts you have presumptuously accrued under the Wei name will be summarily disavowed. Let the merchants and money lenders you have so readily defrauded seek recompense from your own hide. Perhaps the experience will teach you the value of honor and discipline, traits evidently absent from your character.

Consider this a final act of mercy: you may retain the Wei name for the present. However, should you continue to besmirch it with your actions, we shall not hesitate to formally excise you from the clan registry, leaving you nameless and without the protection that your birthright once afforded you.

Let this be a lesson. Mend your ways, or face the consequences. The Wei Clan has spoken.

Dictated by Wei Long, Patriarch of the Wei Clan

Sealed and witnessed by Wei Chen, First Elder of the Wei Clan

-​

My eyes twitched. I read it again, then a third time.

Yes… so lucky.

I knew that it was just a formality at this point, given what the healer had told me and Wei Ling's own confirmation. But seeing it in writing, with its pompous, holier-than-thou tone, still stung. They even made it sound like they were doing me a favor by letting me keep the family name.

My stomach rumbled violently.

I was starving.

Ugh, fuck it. Fuck everything.

I crumpled the letter in my fist and tossed it into a nearby brazier, watching the parchment curl and blacken in the flames. Then I turned and stalked towards the mess hall. I was going to eat that watery gruel, and I was going to eat a lot of it. Then I was going to take exactly six days off. I had zero infraction points, so I could afford to blow off exactly six days. Seven days, I'd be risking a whipping. Eight days, I'd be marked as a deserter and hunted down. But six days, six glorious days of uninterrupted research and experimentation, that was a luxury I could now afford.