NOVPUB
Chapter 193: Scars
The sack of Golden Drop Pills felt heavier in my grip than it should have. Because of what it represented.
Jian Feng stood before me, his posture straight as ever, despite the signs of exhaustion clinging to his frame. The disciples had been patrolling nonstop, ensuring no remnants of the demonic cult lurked in the region. Despite their injuries, despite the fact that none of them had fully recovered, they still continued on.
I pulled the drawstring loose and handed him the sack.
“These should help,” I said. “They’ll speed up your recovery and strengthen your qi circulation. I know it’s not much, but I made them smaller to ensure there was enough for all of you.”
Jian Feng’s gaze flickered toward the sack before accepting it with a nod. “You didn’t have to rush.”
“I did.”
He exhaled softly, shaking his head before offering a small, appreciative smile. “Thank you.”
I shook my head. “No,” I said. “It’s me who should be thanking you. You and the other disciples went above and beyond to protect my village. If anything, this is just me fulfilling my part of the deal—in exchange for your protection, the Verdant Lotus Sect has exclusive access to my medicine.”
Jian Feng studied me for a moment, then nodded. “Even if it won’t be enough to mend their worst injuries, it will enhance their cultivation. That alone is invaluable.”
I sighed. “I hope so. I'm also working on a potential cure for the converts. Have they no shown no signs of getting better?”
He secured the sack to his belt, inclining his head. “No. We've had to alternate shifts constantly. The phrase they keep repeating, it... it grates on one's mind.”
"I see." My voice was tight as I tried to unravel the mystery of the converts. "I'll work harder for a cure then. I will come and observe them once more, after I finish training."
I offered a nod in return before leaving him to his patrols, my steps naturally carrying me toward Elder Ming’s courtyard.
The air still carried winter’s bite, but it was different now. Milder. Weaker.
Spring was on its way.
As I greeted Wang Jun and Elder Ming, training passed like a blur.
I let out a slow breath, shrugging off my outer robe as I finished the Dance of a Thousand Flames. The bed of heated coals crackled beside me, steam rising where snow had melted around them.
The first thing that caught my eye was my reflection in a shallow pool of melted snow.
Scars.
They stood out against my skin—still pink, still tender. A permanent reminder of the battle.
The ragged scar on my left shoulder, where the demonic cultist had nearly punctured through.
The healed burns along my right hand’s palm, where I had pushed the Heavenly Mantra Flame beyond my control.
I flexed my fingers experimentally. The sensation was still there. Faint, lingering, but not gone.
I was lucky.
If this was all I had walked away with, I had no right to complain.
I dropped down to the ground, my good hand pressing against the ground.
Then, I shifted my weight, pressing through my palm.
My lower body lifted skyward, legs straightening until I was in a one-handed handstand pushup.
It wasn’t just my skills that had changed.
It was my willingness to push myself to the absolute limit.
I thought I had understood what that meant.
I was wrong.
There’s a difference between training until you could collapse… and training until you do collapse.
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My breath came slow and steady. I pushed. Another rep. Then another.
My muscles burned. My body screamed.
One more.
I pressed up one last time—
A notification appeared in my vision.
Your body has reached Qi Initiation Stage - Rank 3
My arms gave out.
I collapsed onto my back, staring up at the sky.
For a moment, I just lay there.
Then, I let out a breathless chuckle, my chest rising and falling with exhaustion.
I did it.
I got up slowly, rolling onto my side before pushing myself to my feet. My limbs felt leaden, my breath still uneven from the exertion, but beneath the exhaustion, there was a quiet thrill. ꞦΆŊ𝐨ᛒĘS̈
I had broken through. Again.
My body felt different; stronger, denser, like my bones had been reinforced with something more than mere mortal endurance.
“I reached the next level in Body,” I said, still catching my breath.
Wang Jun scoffed, leaning on his practice sword. “Tch. Guess I’ll have to catch up soon.” He stretched, the faint flicker of qi shifting around him. “I’m already at the fourth rank of the Mortal Realm, you know.”
I huffed a laugh. “Good. You’d better keep up. You had a higher starting point than I ever did!”
Elder Ming, who had been silently observing, tilted his head slightly. His expression was contemplative.
“Tell me, Kai… will this be enough?”
I knew what he meant.
The Black Tortoise Tribulation, once an insurmountable weight, was now something I could complete with ease.
Would I remove it?
I clenched my fists. The answer should have been obvious. Any rational cultivator would discard the extra burden now that its benefits had been reaped.
But instead, I found myself hesitating.
“…I’d like to hold onto it for just a bit longer,” I admitted.
I wasn’t sure if I was ready to let go.
Not because I doubted my ability. But because… something in me resisted the thought of discarding this growth opportunity so soon. It wasn't as though the weight hadn't affected me anymore. It was still a challenge. And that mean I still had room to improve.
Elder Ming studied me, then gave a slow nod. “I trust your judgment. But remember, Kai—long-term growth is good, but carrying unnecessary weight can be fatal in battle.”
I exhaled. “I know. That’s why… I need to grow faster.”
Before the next battle came. Before I was forced to fight again.
Elder Ming sighed but said nothing more.
I wiped sweat from my brow, gathering my things. “I’ll be back later.”
Wang Jun waved lazily, while Elder Ming watched me leave with the quiet wisdom he always carried. It was time to focus on my task of healing the converts. I'd been pushing it off out of anxiety, but my conscience wouldn't allow for it any longer.
As I walked past the partially constructed houses, I noticed how the village was changing.
More homes. More people. 𝙣𝙤𝒗𝙥𝒖𝒃.𝒄𝒐𝒎
The refugees who had sought shelter here were no longer just guests, they were becoming a part of Gentle Wind Village.
It should have been a comforting thought.
But all I could think about was how much more I had to protect.
I reached the Verdant Lotus disciples’ compound and knocked.
A few moments later, the door creaked open.
Miao Hu stood at the entrance.
His gaze flickered to me, and I noticed his left hand missing a finger, the sleeve of his robe folded slightly to hide it.
A twinge of guilt pulled at me, but I pushed past it.
“I want to see the converts,” I said.
Miao Hu hesitated. “…You sure? Staying around them too long isn’t good for the mind.”
I nodded. “Just for a moment.”
He let out a slow breath, then stepped aside to let me in.
We walked down a secluded path, toward the part of the compound that had been set aside.
The air grew heavier the closer we got.
Like an unseen pressure pressing against my thoughts.
"They've been chanting without pause, so we had to put them in the furthest part of the compound, away from where we sleep."
By the time we reached the three restrained figures, I could already feel it, like a persistent scratch in the back of my mind.
Three beds. Three figures.
They were bound; restraints holding them in place. But their bodies trembled, their lips moving constantly in a hushed, feverish chant.
“Praise the Heavenly Demon… Praise the Heavenly Demon… Praise the Heavenly Demon…”
The words crawled against my skin, a foreign, invasive whisper at the edges of my consciousness.
Even bound, even broken, the demonic influence had not left them.
I clenched my jaw.
These are people.
No matter what they had become, no matter how twisted their minds had been, they were still people.
And I was determined to save them.
But how?
The Heavenly Interface materialized before me.
Quest: Rescue the Fallen
- Prevent a convert from chanting "Praise the Heavenly Demon" for a full minute without harming them. (0/1)
- Extract and examine a vial of blood from a convert and find it's hidden properties. (0/1)
- Use the Essence Purifying Elixir in the cure for the converts. (0/1)
It reminded me of the first time I had created healing hydrosol. The system had given me a series of tasks that hadn’t made sense at first. But by the end, the pieces had come together, and I had realized the method on my own.
Except this time…
I wouldn’t simply receive a recipe as a reward.
I would have to create the cure myself.
That meant trial and error, experimenting with the unknown.
And if I failed... if I made even the smallest miscalculation, then what would become of them?
I exhaled, suppressing the unease curling at the edges of my mind. One step at a time.
I turned toward Miao Hu. “Has anyone tried to stop them from chanting?”
He blinked, clearly caught off guard. “What?”
“The phrase,” I gestured toward the bound converts. “Has anyone tried forcing them to stop saying it?”
Miao Hu hesitated, his brow furrowing. “No… I mean, they don’t respond to much of anything. We figured trying to silence them would just be another way of aggravating them. What would that even do?”
“I don’t know yet,” I admitted. “But I want to try.”
Miao Hu gave me a skeptical look, but after a moment, he sighed. “Alright. Let me find a cloth.”
With his help, we approached the nearest convert—a man whose face was gaunt, eyes sunken, his lips barely moving as he whispered the same phrase over and over.
Praise the Heavenly Demon… Praise the Heavenly Demon…
I pulled the clean cloth from Miao Hu had given me and carefully stuffed it into the convert's mouth, securing it so he couldn’t easily spit it out. The second-class disciple moved to restrain his head from moving too violently.
The effect was instantaneous.
The convert’s body seized, his entire form trembling as though something had gone horribly wrong. His pupils dilated, his breath coming out in sharp, frantic gasps through his nose. His chest heaved, his hands clenched into fists.
I stepped back immediately, eyes locked onto him. I had expected resistance. A fight, maybe. But fear?
The longer he went without speaking, the worse it became.
His body shuddered violently, his movements growing more erratic, as though his very existence depended on the ability to speak those words.
A minute passed, and his entire body slumped, his head falling forward.
Silence.
Miao Hu tensed. “Is he—”
I quickly checked his pulse. Steady. His breathing had slowed, his body relaxed. His vitals were normal.
He had simply passed out.
I exhaled, stepping back. My mind churned with possibilities.
He didn’t die.
That meant whatever hold the chant had over him wasn’t physically necessary for survival. But if its absence caused that level of panic, then it was safe to assume…
It wasn’t just a phrase. Perhaps it was a compulsion.
I turned to Miao Hu. “This is progress.”
“It is?”
“Yes. It means the chant is connected to whatever is keeping them in this state. If we break that connection, we might be able to restore them.”
I looked back at the unconscious convert, my mind already racing ahead.
One task down.
Two to go.
And if I wanted to understand what was happening inside them, I’d have to take the next step.
I would need to examine their blood.
