Chapter 9
Kai remained kneeling by Yan's bedside, the vial of medicine held firmly in his hand. His gaze softened as he leaned in closer, speaking in a calm, steady voice.
"Yan, can you hear me? If you can understand what I'm saying, please do something—anything—to let me know."
A faint moan escaped Yan's cracked lips, followed by a weak, deliberate nod. It was barely perceptible, but it was enough.
"Good," Kai said, his tone reassuring. "I have medicine here that can help you heal, but I won't lie to you—it's going to be excruciatingly painful. It might be the worst pain you've ever felt. If you're not ready for that, I can go and get something else—medicine that will heal you more gently, though it will take a day or two longer. The choice is yours. Do you still want me to give you this medicine now?"
Yan's glassy eyes met Kai's with a mixture of fear and determination. The anguish was evident, but there was something else, too—a profound trust. Yan believed in him. Slowly, as though summoning every ounce of strength left in his battered body, Yan closed his eyes and gave another weak nod.
Kai's heart tightened, but he managed a small, encouraging smile. "Alright," he said softly. "I promise, I'll see this through with you."
Turning to Ming and the older woman who had remained by the bedside, Kai's expression grew serious. "I need you both to stay calm," he said. "This is going to look and sound terrible, but you must trust me. Don't panic, no matter what happens. Can you do that?"
Both Ming and the woman exchanged worried glances but nodded firmly.
Kai exhaled, steeling himself. "Good. Then let's begin."
He uncorked the vial, the sharp, herbal scent of the medicine filling the small room. Its vibrant green liquid seemed to shimmer faintly in the dim light. With great care, Kai poured the liquid into Yan's mouth.
The moment the liquid touched Yan's lips, a violent reaction surged through his body like a storm unleashed. His muscles contracted uncontrollably, his entire frame seizing as though struck by a bolt of lightning. A guttural, agonized cry erupted from his throat—raw, primal, and filled with the kind of pain that clawed at the soul.
Yan's back arched off the bed, his limbs spasming as veins bulged prominently against his pale skin, throbbing with the force of the medicine coursing through him. The sickening crack and pop of dislocated bones snapping back into alignment echoed through the small room, sending shivers down Ming's spine. The sound was both horrifying and mesmerizing—a visceral testament to the power of the medicine at work.
Ming gasped, her hands flying to her mouth, but she didn't move. The older woman trembled but remained rooted in place, just as Kai had instructed. She looked onto her father and didn't understand how medicine could be like this.
In truth, most medicines used by cultivators were like this. The higher the tier of the medicine, the more excruciating the pain it inflicted depending on the wound it was healing. That was precisely why Kai had wanted tier 1 medicine; its effects would have been far gentler, causing significantly less suffering.
The brutal efficacy of such remedies was tolerated by cultivators because their bodies and minds, tempered through years of cultivation, could endure the torment. The process of building one's cultivation heightened pain tolerance to extraordinary levels. For Kai, consuming this tier 2 medicine for a minor wound would have caused little more than a mild discomfort.
But Yan was a mortal. He lacked the resilience of a cultivator, the hardened nerves and fortified spirit required to withstand such an ordeal. And, every bone in his body was broken, which healing such a wound would be more intense than usual. To him, the medicine's effects were pure agony, and felt like he was given poison.
Kai clenched his fists, frustration bubbling beneath his composed exterior. If only he'd been more composed earlier at the alchemist's pavilion, he might have secured the tier 1 medicine. Instead, his lapse in judgment had forced this suffering upon Yan—a burden Kai now had to carry.
Still, he consoled himself with the knowledge that the medicine was working. Despite the pain it caused, it was a necessary step to save Yan's life. This was the bitter truth of a cultivator's world: nothing came without a cost, not even healing.
"Hang in there, Yan," he said, his voice unwavering despite the chaos. "This is the medicine working. It's forcing your body to heal faster. The pain will pass."
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Hours passed. Throughout that time, Kai remained steadfast at Yan's side, monitoring him as he writhed and screamed in agony. The process was brutal, and Yan's cries echoed through the quiet village, drawing the attention of several concerned villagers. A few, emboldened by worry, approached the house to check on the situation. When they did, Kai met them with a calm yet firm explanation of the treatment and its necessity. Though they nodded in understanding, their expressions remained tinged with unease, the screams haunting them even after they returned to their homes.
Two hours into the ordeal, Ming could no longer bear it. Tears streaming down her face, she rushed toward her father, pleading for Kai to stop.
Before she could reach Yan, Kai intercepted her, wrapping her in a firm but gentle embrace. Ming struggled at first, pounding her small fists against his chest, but he held her steady, his voice soothing yet resolute.
"It's going to be alright, Ming," he said softly. "I promise you, this will save him. You have to trust me."
Kai's heart ached as he spoke. He didn't want to see Ming suffer, but he couldn't let her intervene. Yan's body was in an extremely fragile state due to the medicine. His bones and flesh had become delicate and malleable, pliable like soft clay as the medicine worked to heal and restructure his injuries. Even the lightest touch could cause new damage, undoing the progress and prolonging both the healing process and Yan's suffering.
Ming eventually relented, her sobs muffled against Kai's chest as she clung to him. "I just want him to be okay," she whispered, her voice trembling.
"I know," Kai replied, his tone gentle but firm. "And he will be. But you have to trust me and stay back for now."
Releasing her, Kai guided Ming to sit with the older woman, who wrapped an arm around her shoulder, offering silent comfort. He returned to Yan's side, his resolve unwavering despite the emotional toll.
The hours stretched on. At the fourth hour mark, Yan's screams began to subside, replaced by labored breathing as his body adjusted to the medicine's effects. The healing effect seemed done.
Kai carefully unwrapped the bandages from Yan's body, his movements slow and deliberate as though unveiling something fragile. To his relief, the sight beneath the bandages was nothing short of miraculous. The once-gaping wounds, the bruises, and the discolored flesh—all of it—had vanished. The skin was smooth and unblemished, as if the injuries had never existed.
A sense of relief washed over Kai. The medicine had worked flawlessly. Yan's body, once brutalized, was now whole again. His breathing, though labored, had steadied, and the lines of pain that had etched his face were softening into an expression of exhaustion.
"All the wounds have healed," Kai murmured, more to himself than anyone else. He glanced back at Ming and the older woman, who had been watching him anxiously. Their expressions shifted from fear to a mix of wonder and tentative hope.
"Is he... okay now?" Ming asked hesitantly, her voice barely above a whisper as she inched closer.
Kai nodded with a small, reassuring smile. "He'll be fine. Other than some exhaustion, he just needs plenty of rest. His body's been through a lot, but there's no permanent damage. He'll recover fully in time."
A palpable wave of relief swept through the room. Ming rushed to her father's side, carefully taking his hand in hers. The older woman clasped her hands together, silently mouthing a prayer of thanks.
Kai stood, his knees cracking slightly after hours of kneeling, and let out a long exhale. The tension in his shoulders eased as he watched the quiet reunion between father and daughter. This was the outcome he had fought for—this was why he had endured the screams and resisted Ming's pleas to stop.
"Make sure he drinks plenty of water and gets as much rest as he needs," Kai advised, his tone warm but firm. "Don't let him overexert himself for a few days, and keep him comfortable. If there's any pain, let me know, and I'll take care of it."
Ming looked up at Kai, her eyes shimmering with gratitude. "Thank you, Uncle Kai. Thank you so much."
Kai gave her a small smile and a nod. Before exiting the Shui's household.
Chapter 10
As Kai stepped out of the Shui residence, he was met by a small crowd of villagers gathered anxiously outside. Their faces were a mix of worry and hope, their eyes searching for any hint of the outcome. The tension in the air was palpable until one of them finally worked up the courage to speak.
"Is everything... alright?" a woman asked nervously, clutching the hands of her young son.
Kai gave her a reassuring smile. "Yes, everything is fine. Yan is out of danger. He just needs rest, but he'll make a full recovery."
A wave of relief rippled through the group. Audible sighs of comfort and whispered prayers of gratitude broke the tense silence. Smiles began to spread among the villagers, and a few even clasped their hands together in thanks.
Pushing gently through the crowd came an older man, leaning on a worn walking stick. His presence commanded immediate respect, even in his simplicity. Like everyone else, he wore peasant clothing, but the fabric was slightly finer, and his demeanor marked him as someone of importance in the village. This was Shi Lim, the village elder and leader of Haebaek.
"Thank you so much, great and honorable cultivator of the Ember Sword Sect, which pierces the heavens," Elder Shi said, bowing respectfully with a slight tremor in his voice.
Kai suppressed a groan, managing to maintain a polite expression. Internally, he cringed at the overly elaborate greeting. This was a common practice among mortals addressing cultivators, a display of deference that always felt unnecessary to him. He had never been comfortable with these grandiose titles, especially considering how little regard he actually had for his own sect.
"That's fine, Elder Shi," Kai replied, holding up a hand to halt the stream of praise. "I've told you before, there's no need for such fancy titles when speaking to me. Just Kai is fine."
Shi Lim straightened slightly, his lined face betraying a hint of confusion before softening into a grateful smile. "Ah, yes, of course... Kai. Still, we cannot thank you enough for what you've done. Your kindness and skill have saved one of our own, and for that, we are forever in your debt."
Kai shook his head. "There's no debt. You don't owe me anything. I only did what anyone with the means would've done."
The crowd murmured in appreciation, but Kai could sense their awe of him only deepening. No matter how much he downplayed his actions, the villagers saw him as a figure far above their station.
"Please," Shi Lim continued, "if there is anything you ever need of us, do not hesitate to ask."
"Actually, there is something you could do for me," Kai began, his voice measured. "If you have any to spare, I'd like a few bags of rice. But only if it won't deprive any of you of your meals."
Shi Lim's face lit up with enthusiasm. "Oh, it's no trouble at all! Last year's harvest was abundant, and this year looks even better. We could easily provide you with fifty bags if that's what you need."
Kai smiled faintly, shaking his head. "Six bags will be plenty."
"As you wish. Follow me, noble cultivator," Shi Lim said, bowing slightly before leading the way.
Kai followed the elder to the village's grain storage, one of the larger structures in Haebaek. Built partially into the ground and constructed from sturdy wood and thatch, the storage building was designed to stay cool, preserving its contents for as long as possible. As they entered, Kai was greeted by the sight of rows upon rows of rice sacks, stacked neatly and towering higher than he stood.
Shi Lim gestured grandly toward the stockpile. "Take whatever you need."
Kai nodded in gratitude, stepping forward to inspect the bags. With practiced ease, he selected six sturdy sacks of rice and, with a flick of his wrist, activated his storage ring. One by one, the bags disappeared into the ring's space as if they had been swallowed by thin air.
Shi Lim stared in awe, his mouth slightly agape. To see something as mundane as rice vanish into a ring was nothing short of a miracle for a mortal like him. The other villagers who had followed at a respectful distance whispered amongst themselves, marveling at the cultivator's abilities.
Kai noticed their fascination but paid it little mind. While it might seem wondrous to mortals, the storage ring he used was far from extraordinary in the world of cultivators. In fact, his ring was among the lowest-grade versions available, with limited storage capacity and restrictions on the types of items it could hold.
Shi Lim, still mesmerized, found his voice. "Such a treasure must be invaluable. It's no wonder cultivators are held in such high regard."
Kai glanced at the ring on his finger, its design betraying its simplicity. "Not as invaluable as you might think," he replied, his tone neutral. "This one is basic—barely enough for my needs. Higher-grade rings can store entire fields of crops or even houses, but those are far beyond my means."
Shi Lim seemed even more impressed, not by the ring's limitations but by the fact that Kai had shared such a humble detail about it. To the villagers, everything about Kai, from his calm demeanor to his seemingly magical tools, further cemented his status as someone extraordinary.
Kai, however, couldn't shake the thought of how much effort it had taken to acquire even this modest storage ring. It had cost him over hundreds of merit tokens—an amount that had taken years of menial work to accumulate. Despite its cost, the ring was invaluable to him for moments like this when transporting supplies was necessary.
"Thank you for your generosity, Elder Shi," Kai said, offering a respectful nod. "The rice will be a great help."
Shi Lim bowed deeply in return. "It is we who should thank you, great cultivator. You have saved one of our own and asked for so little in return. May the heavens bless you."
Kai didn't respond immediately, unsure how to accept such reverence. Instead, he simply gave a polite smile and turned to leave, the weight of the villagers' gratitude settling heavily on his shoulders as he exited the storage building.
Kai quietly left the village, a few children waving and shouting their goodbyes as he walked away. He waved back with a faint smile, his thoughts already drifting. He had only taken a few steps past the village boundary when a voice called out behind him.
"Uncle Kai! Uncle Kai!"
He turned to see Ming running toward him, her feet kicking up dust from the dirt path. Before he could say a word, she barreled into him, wrapping her small arms tightly around his waist. Kai was momentarily startled but quickly softened, a rare smile gracing his lips as he gently patted her head.
"Thank you for saving my father," she said, her voice thick with emotion as she released him and took a small step back.
Kai nodded. "It's nothing, Ming. I'm glad I could help."
"Um, I wanted you to have this," she said, holding out a delicate white lily. The flower was pristine, its petals glowing faintly in the soft light of the setting sun.
"Oh, it's beautiful. Thank you so much," he said, accepting the flower with genuine appreciation. He handled it carefully, as though it were as precious as the gratitude it represented.
Ming hesitated for a moment, shuffling her feet nervously before looking up at him. "Um, Uncle Kai… can I ask you something before you go?"
"Of course," Kai said, crouching slightly so they were at eye level.
"Is it strange that I don't like cultivators?"
Kai blinked, caught off guard by the unexpected question. For a moment, he was unsure how to respond. It was rare—almost unheard of—for a mortal to openly express disdain for cultivators. Most people revered them, even feared them. But as Kai considered Ming's situation, her disdain began to make sense. She had every reason to harbor resentment.
Before he could answer, Ming quickly added, "I mean, I still like you a lot, Uncle Kai. It's just… the other cultivators I've met, I don't like them. The adults in the village tell me I shouldn't say such things."
Kai sighed softly, his expression turning serious. "Well, the adults are right. You shouldn't say that in front of just anyone. Most cultivators aren't like me, Ming. They wouldn't take those words kindly."
Her shoulders slumped slightly. "Oh… okay."
Kai leaned in closer, his tone shifting to a playful whisper. "But I'll let you in on a little secret."
Ming's eyes widened with curiosity.
"I don't like cultivators very much either," he said, his voice low but with a conspiratorial grin.
Ming gasped, her expression lighting up with surprise and delight.
"Our little secret," Kai added, placing a finger to his lips in a playful gesture.
Ming giggled, her earlier nervousness melting away. She nodded vigorously before turning and running back toward her home, her laughter echoing faintly in the distance.
Kai stood and watched her go, the white lily still in his hand. He glanced down at the flower, his smile fading into a pensive expression. Ming's honesty and innocence reminded him of what he had lost long ago—what most cultivators had sacrificed in their relentless pursuit of power.
Tucking the lily into his robes carefully, Kai turned and resumed his journey back to his shack, the image of Ming's bright smile lingering in his mind.
Chapter 11
As Kai walked along the path leading back to his shack, his expression remained calm and composed. However, as the village disappeared from sight, his steps grew heavier, his jaw tightened, and his breathing quickened. When he was certain he was far enough away that no one from the village could hear or see him, Kai abruptly stopped.
With a guttural shout, he turned and punched a nearby tree with all his might. The sound of splintering wood rang out like a thunderclap as his fist tore through the trunk, leaving a jagged hole in its center. The tree swayed dangerously, its upper branches groaning before it tilted to one side and toppled with a loud crash, scattering birds into the sky.
Kai stood there, his fist still clenched, his knuckles splattered with sap. His shoulders heaved with suppressed fury. The rage he had been holding back ever since he first saw Yan lying broken and bloodied now boiled over. Yan's condition wasn't just tragic—it was infuriating.
Kai's connection with Yan went beyond mere acquaintance. He had known the man since he was a boy, watching him grow up in Haebaek, from a bright-eyed child to a hardworking farmer and devoted father. The years had aged Yan much faster than they had Kai, as mortals always did compared to cultivators. Yet, despite the decades that separated them, their bond had remained strong. Kai had cherished their friendship, valuing Yan's honesty and resilience in a world that often lacked both.
And now, to see Yan reduced to such a state—to see his body battered, his spirit dimmed—it stoked a fire in Kai's chest that threatened to consume him. The cause of Yan's suffering made it even harder to bear. It wasn't an accident, nor was it the work of bandits. It was the fault of Kai's own sect.
The Ember Sword Sect had always prided itself on its power and authority. Yet, for all its lofty ideals and grandiose claims of righteousness, it harbored within it a darker, uglier truth. New recruits—young, arrogant, and eager to assert their newfound superiority—often sought to prove their strength in the cruelest ways possible.
Some would descend upon mortal villages like Haebaek, treating the people there as little more than playthings. Cultivators, even the lowest-ranking ones, were akin to gods to mortals. Their power was absolute, their authority unchallengeable. And no mortal could stop them.
Kai knew the stories all too well. Tales of junior sect members terrorizing innocent villages, stealing what they wanted, destroying what they didn't, and even committing atrocities like assault and murder—all for the sheer thrill of domination. It made Kai's blood boil. These actions were not born of necessity or survival; they were acts of pure malice and entitlement.
And that is what befell Yan. Some young cultivators from the sect came to the village and terrorized the people there.Yan tried to stop them and as a result, they tortured and brutalized Yan before they left him for dead then returning to the sect.
Officially, the sect's rules forbade such actions. The Ember Sword Sect claimed to hold its members to a code of conduct that reflected their supposed noble purpose: to protect humanity and maintain order. When Kai had reported the young cultivators responsible for Yan's torment, the leadership had assured him that the offenders would face punishment. On the surface, it seemed like justice was being served.
But Kai knew better.
The sect's response was always reactive, never proactive. They punished wrongdoers only when forced to confront their misdeeds, but they did nothing to prevent such atrocities from occurring in the first place. The Ember Sword Sect's leadership would pay lip service to morality, but in practice, they turned a blind eye to the pervasive culture of arrogance and entitlement festering among its ranks.
And worse still, the sect's justice was limited to dealing with the perpetrators. They offered no aid, no solace, to the victims left in the wake of these heinous acts. The mortals who suffered at the hands of cultivators were seen as collateral damage, their lives deemed insignificant compared to the cultivation world's grand ambitions. Not a single tier 1 healing pill—a medicine so basic and inexpensive that it was considered negligible within the sect—was offered to ease Yan's suffering. It would have cost the sect nothing, yet they withheld it without a second thought.
Kai's heart burned with anger as he thought of Yan. If not for his close ties to Haebaek, if not for the personal bond he shared with the villagers, Yan's suffering would have gone entirely unnoticed. The sect wouldn't have cared. They wouldn't have sent anyone to investigate, let alone offered a shred of assistance. Yan would have been left to die slowly, in agony, surrounded by his grieving family.
The injustice gnawed at him. He couldn't stop thinking about how many other villages had suffered as Haebaek had, how many innocent lives had been destroyed without anyone to intervene.
Once Kai had calmed his emotions, he resumed his walk home. Glancing at the sun's position in the sky, he realized there would be no time left to gather herbs today. He sighed, blaming the delay on his earlier misstep—obtaining the tier-2 healing medicine instead of the tier-1 he had originally intended. The tier-1 medicine would have been slower to heal Yan but far less painful, requiring no direct supervision. Instead, Kai had spent the entire day at Yan's side to ensure the volatile effects of the higher-grade medicine didn't worsen his condition.
Now, there was no choice but to head straight to the meadow where the spirit beasts were housed. Tomorrow would bring another opportunity to forage, but for now, his duties with the beasts took precedence.
The path home stretched before him, quiet and serene in the fading light of the day. By the time Kai reached the stable area, the last rays of the sun were barely visible on the horizon. The meadow was deserted, as expected, with all the spirit beasts having returned to their designated stalls. Some were already curled up, their massive forms peacefully resting, while others lay awake, their sharp eyes glinting in the dim light.
Kai walked through the stable area, inspecting each beast carefully. One by one, he checked their stalls, ensuring all was secure and that each animal was comfortable for the night. These creatures were his responsibility, and he took the role seriously.
As he approached Snow, the Ice Claw Wolf, the majestic white canine stirred from its resting position. Snow rose gracefully, its icy-blue eyes meeting Kai's with a gleam of recognition. Its tongue lolled out in a playful greeting, the gesture entirely at odds with its ferocious reputation.
Kai chuckled softly and reached out to pet Snow's head, his fingers brushing through the wolf's thick, cold fur. "Hello, old friend," he murmured. The wolf leaned into his touch, a low rumble of contentment escaping its throat.
In moments like this, Kai felt a rare sense of peace. These beasts, often feared for their power and revered for their rarity, displayed a level of loyalty and sincerity that many cultivators lacked. Kai saw more nobility in their instincts than he ever did in the hollow rituals and lofty proclamations of his sect.
To most, being assigned as the stable master was considered a punishment—an exile from the more prestigious roles within the sect. But to Kai, it was the closest thing to freedom he could imagine. Here, among these majestic creatures, he found solace. Their raw nature, tempered by their simple desires, reminded him of a world untainted by greed and ambition.
Snow gave a soft huff and settled back down as Kai moved on to close its stall. The stable grew quieter with each passing moment as the beasts settled into their nocturnal rhythms. For Kai, this was more than a duty—it was a gift. These creatures, untamed and powerful, brought him a sense of connection and purpose that the sect's rigid hierarchy never could.
As he finished his rounds and secured the last of the stalls, Kai paused to look up at the night sky. The stars shimmered above, distant and indifferent, yet they filled him with a strange sense of hope. Tomorrow would bring its challenges, but for tonight, he could rest knowing he had done what he could—for Yan, for the village, and for the creatures entrusted to his care.
Chapter 12
Somewhere in New York state, in a sterile hospital, the halls gleamed under harsh fluorescent lights. The faint, acrid scent of bleach lingered in the air, a constant reminder of the place's clinical purpose. In one of the rooms, Mike sat in a stiff plastic chair beside a hospital bed, his hands trembling as he clung tightly to his sister Sara's frail hand.
Sara lay motionless, her once-vibrant presence reduced to a shadow of its former self. The machines around her hummed softly, their screens blinking with vital signs. The steady rhythm of the heart monitor filled the room—a reminder that she was still holding on, though just barely. Her face was pale, her cheekbones sharp against her hollowed skin. Dark circles clung beneath her sunken eyes, and she wore a cap to cover the baldness caused by the relentless rounds of chemotherapy.
Mike's face was a portrait of grief. Tears streamed down his cheeks as he sobbed openly, his shoulders shaking under the weight of his sorrow. His grip on Sara's hand tightened, as though holding on to her physically could somehow keep her tethered to the world.
"It's not fair," Mike choked out, his voice cracking. "Why? Why you?" His words hung heavy in the air, thick with anguish. "You're all I've got left. You're the only family I have. Cancer already took Mom and Dad... why's it gotta take you too?"
His words broke into a whisper as he buried his face in her hand, the small, fragile hand that had once been so full of life. Memories of their childhood flooded his mind—her laughter, the way she'd tease him, how they'd lean on each other after their parents' deaths. She'd always been the stronger one, the one who kept him going.
Now, here she was, fighting a battle she never asked for, and all Mike could do was sit helplessly by her side. His tears fell onto her hand, the droplets pooling briefly before soaking into the thin hospital sheet.
Sara weakly squeezed Mike's hand, her frail fingers trembling with effort. Her pale lips curved into a faint smile, though it was clear it took everything in her to muster it. The pain etched on her face was undeniable, but she fought to mask it, if only to ease her brother's anguish.
"Hey now, don't be a crybaby," she said, her voice raspy and uneven, barely above a whisper. She tried to inject a note of playful teasing into her tone, the way she always had when they were kids, but it came out thin and strained. "You'll be alright. You've got this."
Mike's throat tightened, his breath hitching as he struggled to contain the storm of emotions raging inside him. But he couldn't respond—not with words, not even with a nod. His tears kept flowing, hot and unstoppable, carving trails down his cheeks.
He didn't want to be "alright." The idea was unbearable. How could he be alright when the people he loved most in the world were slipping away from him? His chest heaved with grief, his head bowed as he clung to her fragile hand.
The truth was inescapable, hanging over them both like a dark, suffocating cloud. Sara's cancer was terminal. Every doctor, every test, every soul-crushing prognosis had told them the same thing: there was no miracle cure, no last-minute reprieve. She was going to die.
And it wasn't just "soon." It was imminent.
Mike's heart shattered anew with every labored breath she took. All he wanted was for her to get better, to defy the odds and live the life she deserved. But the universe, cruel and unyielding, had decided otherwise.
Yet here she was, trying to comfort him, the very person who should have been the one doing the comforting. Even now, even as her life ebbed away, she was thinking of him, of how to shield him from the unbearable reality they both faced.
And that only made it hurt more.
"Remember what Dad always said before he passed," Sara murmured, her voice fragile but steady with conviction. "You don't get to choose how you come into this world, and you're lucky if you get to choose how you leave it. It's just the way things are. All we can do is live the best we can while we're here."
Mike nodded slowly, his head heavy with the weight of her words. He knew she was trying to give him something to hold onto, some fragment of wisdom to ease the unbearable reality they both faced. She was doing what she always did—putting him first, even as her own life slipped away.
But the mention of their father only cut deeper into his already raw grief. The image of their dad in the exact same position flashed through Mike's mind—lying pale and gaunt in a hospital bed, surrounded by the same sterile white walls and the beeping of machines. The memory was like a ghost, stirring up the pain he thought he'd buried long ago.
It felt cruel, the way history was repeating itself. First their dad, then their mom, and now Sara—the people he loved most in the world, taken from him one by one. It felt as if the universe had singled him out to endure this endless cycle of loss.
Mike squeezed her hand tighter, the pressure of his grip conveying everything he couldn't say. He didn't have the strength to respond, not without breaking completely. He swallowed hard, his throat tight, and tried to focus on Sara's face—her eyes, still bright despite her frailty; her smile, soft but full of the same stubborn courage she'd always had.
Mike leaned forward and wrapped his arms around his big sister, pulling her into a tight embrace. Sara, though weak, managed to return the hug, her frail arms encircling him with what little strength she had left.
"I love you," Mike whispered, his voice breaking.
"I love you too," Sara replied softly, her breath warm against his shoulder.
As they held onto each other, a strange stillness filled the room. The faint, rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor began to fade, replaced by an unsettling silence. In the corner of the room, the shadows started to shift and expand, inching outward with an unnatural, almost deliberate slowness.
The darkness crept across the floor, swallowing the sterile white tiles and climbing up the walls. It moved with an eerie inevitability, its edges blurring as it consumed everything in its path.
And then, the realization struck him again, as it always did in these moments. This wasn't real. This was all a dream—a cruel, fleeting echo of something. But even as the truth settled over him, heavy and suffocating, he clung to his sister tighter.
The shadows reached his feet, their cold touch sending a shiver up his spine. He didn't care. He wouldn't let go. Not yet. Not while he could still feel her heartbeat, however faint, against his chest.
As the darkness enveloped them completely, erasing the walls, the bed, and the world around them, Mike closed his eyes. Everything faded to black, but his arms remained around his sister, holding on to the only thing that mattered, even as the dream slipped away.
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Kai's eyes snapped open, his chest rising and falling with shallow, uneven breaths. He sat up abruptly, the remnants of the dream clinging to him like a heavy fog. His cheeks were damp, tears still streaming down his face, carving silent trails that mirrored the sorrow lingering in his heart.
Raising a trembling hand, he wiped at his face, brushing away the tears as he tried to steady himself. The weight of the dream pressed against his chest, vivid and raw, as though the emotions it stirred refused to let go.
He glanced toward the small window beside his bed. The faint light of dawn crept over the horizon, the first rays of the sun painting the sky with soft hues of gold and pink. The world was waking, serene and indifferent to the dreams Kai experienced.
"What a sad dream," he murmured, his voice barely audible, as if speaking louder might make the sorrow linger longer. His fingers brushed through his disheveled hair, his thoughts racing. The vividness of the dream unsettled him, not because it felt unreal, but because it felt all too real.
Kai let out a slow breath, leaning back against the wooden frame of his bed. He stared out the window, watching the sunrise, hoping its warmth might burn away the lingering chill in his soul.
Chapter 13
Kai moved through the motions of his morning routine with practiced efficiency. He dressed in his sect robes, prepared a simple breakfast, and headed to the stable area to tend to the spirit beasts. The familiar rhythm of his tasks was usually enough to keep his mind focused, but today, a heavy shadow lingered over him.
No matter how hard he tried, Kai couldn't shake the sorrowful dream from the night. It clung to him like a persistent fog, creeping into his thoughts even as he busied himself feeding the animals and releasing them from their enclosures.
The dream had been so vivid, painfully so. Kai had felt every moment, every emotion, as though he had truly lived through it. His heart ached in a way he hadn't felt in years. It wasn't just the sadness of witnessing Mike's grief and helplessness; it was the strange connection he felt to this foreign life, this otherworldly experience of pain and loss.
As he worked, Kai's thoughts drifted back to the girl in the dream, to her frail form and the disease they called "cancer." It was a word he had never heard before, a sickness beyond his understanding. The frustration gnawed at him—if only he could bring the medicines of his world into Mike's, perhaps the girl could be saved. But it was impossible. A dream, no matter how vivid, was still just a dream.
Still, the ache in his heart lingered. He shook his head, forcing the thoughts aside as he focused on brushing Snow, the ice-claw wolf who greeted him with an eager wag of its tail. Kai sighed and smiled faintly, grateful for the grounding presence of the beasts.
"This is reality," he murmured to himself, his voice barely audible. "The dream was just… a dream."
But even as he spoke the words, a part of him couldn't help but wonder if there was something more to these dreams. For now, though, he pushed the thoughts to the back of his mind and returned to his duties.
After finishing brushing Snow's fur, Kai gently patted the ice-claw wolf's head, earning a soft whine of protest as he put away his tools and began to leave the stable. Normally, Kai would have spent more time tending to the spirit beasts, ensuring each one received care and attention. However, he couldn't do that today.
The previous day's events—the ordeal with Yan and the trip to the Sect's alchemy pavilion—had thrown off his routine. He had missed his opportunity to forage for spirit herbs, and the lost time weighed heavily on him. The balance of his duties and responsibilities demanded that he make up for it, even if it meant cutting his time with the beasts short.
"Sorry, Snow," Kai murmured over his shoulder as he walked away. The wolf let out another soft whine, its tail thumping once against the ground in acknowledgment.
Kai returned to his humble shack and grabbed his herb-collecting bag, a worn but reliable satchel that had accompanied him on countless foraging trips. He adjusted the strap over his shoulder and set off into the forest, his steps steady but purposeful.
The dense greenery of the forest greeted him with a familiar stillness, broken only by the occasional chirping of birds and the rustle of leaves in the gentle breeze. This was one of the few places where Kai felt truly at peace. Despite the Sect's corruption and the burdens he carried, the forest always seemed untouched by it all—a sanctuary of life and renewal.
As he ventured deeper, the sunlight filtered through the canopy in dappled patterns, guiding his path toward areas where spirit herbs were known to grow. With a keen eye and practiced movements, Kai scanned the undergrowth, searching for the telltale glimmer or vibrant hues that marked the presence of these rare and precious plants.
A sudden breeze whispered through the forest, rustling the leaves in the canopy above and carrying with it a faint, earthy aroma that Kai immediately recognized. It was the distinct scent of a spirit herb—a promising lead.
Kai turned his head, inhaling deeply to pinpoint the direction the scent had come from. Once he had his bearings, he set off, moving with quiet purpose through the dense underbrush. His steps were deliberate, weaving carefully around thorny bushes and over fallen logs that lay scattered across the forest floor.
As he navigated deeper into the woods, his sharp gaze scanned the ground, not just for signs of the sought-after herb but also for a certain hazard. Among the many plants in the forest, none was more problematic than dung weed. Its inconspicuous appearance often fooled the careless, stepping on it released a foul stench that clung to a person for days. Kai had experienced it once before, and the mockery that followed reinforced the dreaded nickname "Stinky Kai." He had no intention of reliving that humiliation.
"Not today," he muttered under his breath, sidestepping a suspicious clump of plants that bore a strong resemblance to the cursed weed.
The wind blew again, carrying a stronger hint of the herbal scent. Encouraged, Kai quickened his pace, his heart steady as he honed in on the source. The forest felt alive with possibility, and though his primary goal was to replenish his supplies, the act of foraging itself brought a strange comfort—a small reprieve from the day-to-day of his life.
After an hour of careful searching, Kai's diligence bore fruit. Nestled beneath the shade of a gnarled tree, he stumbled upon a thriving patch of glowing spirit herbs. Their faint luminescence illuminated the surrounding foliage, casting a soft, ethereal light over the forest floor.
The plants he had found were butterfly clovers, aptly named for their leaves, which grew in the shape of butterfly wings with intricate vein patterns resembling those of the delicate insect. Though considered a low-tier herb, only capable of producing medicine up to tier five, the Sect still offered merit for its collection. Judging by the density of the patch, this discovery could fetch a decent amount.
Kai knelt beside the herbs, his movements practiced and deliberate. With a careful hand, he began selecting clovers for harvesting, but not indiscriminately. To the untrained eye, the glowing clovers would seem the most valuable—after all, their light was mesmerizing. However, this was a novice's mistake.
Kai's experience told him otherwise. The glowing butterfly clovers were newly sprouted and immature, their alchemical potency still undeveloped. The true prize lay in the unassuming, non-glowing clovers, which had matured and absorbed the necessary essence to make them far more effective for crafting medicine and cultivation pills.
Using a small herb knife, Kai gently harvested only the mature clovers, leaving the glowing ones undisturbed. This was a practice of sustainability. By allowing the young herbs to remain, he ensured that this patch would continue to thrive, providing a renewable source of valuable ingredients for the future.
The process took time, but Kai didn't rush. Each herb was handled with care, its stem cut precisely at the base to preserve the plant's integrity. His herb pouch began to fill, the faint aroma of butterfly clovers wafting up with every addition.
"Not bad," he murmured to himself, a small sense of satisfaction creeping into his otherwise stoic demeanor. Moments like this, surrounded by the quiet hum of the forest and the steady rhythm of his work, felt oddly fulfilling. It was one of the aspects of his duties that brought him a measure of peace.
Kai straightened up, brushing the loose dirt from his knees. He surveyed his now-filled herb pouch and nodded to himself, satisfied with the day's work. Turning back toward the direction of his shack, he began his trek home. The forest around him was serene, and the rhythmic crunch of leaves underfoot almost lulled him into a state of calm.
That was until he heard the voice.
"Hey, Lan!" a shout rang out from the direction he had just left. "I found a whole bunch of herbs here! Enough for both of us!"
Kai froze mid-step, his mind racing. That's not good, he thought, a twinge of irritation mixing with concern. He clenched his jaw as he turned back toward the butterfly clover patch.
His steps quickened, weaving through the trees with the ease of someone who knew the terrain well. If someone disturbed the patch he had carefully left to regrow, it would ruin the sustainability of the cluster.
Chapter 14
Kai reached the clearing just as two figures came into view. They were junior cultivators, both dressed in the simple robes of outer disciples. One of them, a lanky young man with a mop of dark hair, stood triumphantly over the cluster of glowing clovers, grinning as though he'd struck gold. His companion, a shorter boy with a nervous demeanor, lingered nearby, glancing around as if expecting someone to appear.
"Lan, look at these!" the taller one exclaimed, pointing to the glowing clovers. "The Sect's going to reward us big for this haul!"
Kai observed the junior disciples as they fumbled around the cluster of butterfly clovers, their inexperience evident in their every move. From the way they inspected the glowing herbs with eager eyes, it was clear they were still relatively new to cultivation.
He sighed internally, his suspicion solidifying: these two had likely been sent on a basic herb-gathering mission, a common task for newcomers to the sect. It was a straightforward exercise meant to teach resourcefulness, attention to detail, and the fundamentals of recognizing valuable materials. However, judging by their apparent lack of knowledge, it seemed their training had barely scratched the surface—or worse, they hadn't been paying attention during their lessons.
Kai stepped out from the shadows, his voice cold but measured. "You'll only get a reward if you pick the right ones."
Both junior disciples spun around, startled. The taller one—likely the leader of the pair—frowned as he took in Kai's plain appearance. "And who are you to tell us what to do?"
Kai crossed his arms, his calm tone undercut by a subtle edge. "Your senior, and someone who knows that glowing herbs are immature and nearly useless for alchemy. Take those, and you'll be wasting your time—and the Sect's might punish you for wasting resources."
The shorter disciple, Lan, hesitated, his eyes darting between his companion and Kai. "Is… is that true?"
Kai stepped closer, his gaze unwavering. "If you don't believe me, go ahead. Hand over a pouch of glowing clovers and watch the alchemists laugh you out of the pavilion. Or worse, they might report your incompetence."
"Wait a minute, I know who you are!" the taller of the two juniors exclaimed, pointing an accusatory finger at Kai. "You're Stinky Kai! Our seniors warned us about you!"
The insult hit Kai harder than he cared to admit, though he kept his composure. It seemed even the younger members of the sect had picked up the derogatory nickname, perpetuating the smear campaign against him.
"Who's Stinky Kai?" the shorter junior, whose name was Lan, asked with a curious tilt of his head.
"This guy!" the taller one declared, his tone filled with disdain. "He's the one who lied about our senior brothers and got them into trouble! Don't believe a word he says—he's a liar, probably a thief too. He's probably just trying to trick us into leaving these herbs so he can take them for himself!"
Kai raised an eyebrow, keeping his voice steady. "What nonsense are you spouting? I've never lied about anyone, and I have no interest in stealing your herbs."
"See? There he goes again, lying!" the taller junior snapped, crossing his arms. "Acting like he didn't falsely accuse our senior brothers of terrorizing a mortal village."
The pieces clicked into place in Kai's mind. He now understood what this was about. These juniors had been fed misinformation, no doubt by the same cultivators who had been punished for their atrocities against Yan's village. Clearly, those individuals had figured out it was Kai who had reported them to the sect leadership. And now, they were doing what they could to discredit him, spreading slander among their juniors to ensure Kai's reputation was further tarnished.
Kai felt a pang of frustration and a flicker of anger, but he pushed it down. He couldn't afford to lose his temper now. If he wanted to set the record straight, he would need to handle this carefully.
"It's actually your senior brothers who are lying to you," Kai said, his voice firm but calm. "They did exactly what I reported them for, and now they're trying to cover their tracks by spreading lies about me."
"I don't believe you!" the taller junior snapped, his grip on his sword tightening. "Our senior brothers would never lie to us. Unlike you—you're the one they say sleeps with animals! Disgusting!"
The nervous one hesitated before chiming in, "He sleeps with animals? And he calls himself a cultivator? What a joke!"
Kai clenched his jaw at the slander but took a deep breath, trying to remain composed. "That's not true," he said, his tone softening as he tried to reason with them. "Please, just listen to me."
He took a cautious step forward, but the taller junior immediately raised his sword, the blade shaking slightly as he pointed it at Kai. "Don't come any closer!"
Kai froze mid-step, his eyes narrowing as he studied the junior. The way the boy held the sword was sloppy—his stance unbalanced and his grip uncertain. It was clear he had only recently started learning swordsmanship. This confirmed Kai's earlier suspicion that the two juniors were likely at the first stage of Qi-Gathering.
In contrast, Kai's own cultivation had advanced to the third stage of Qi-Gathering, two entire levels above theirs. On paper, this disparity should have given him a clear advantage in this confrontation. However, the reality wasn't so simple.
There were two of them, both armed, while Kai was unarmed. He hadn't brought his weapon with him to the forest, as the area was considered safe, and he rarely needed to carry it during his herb-gathering trips. Even if he could overpower them, he would almost certainly sustain injuries in the process. Injuries he would have to spend merit to get more medicine to heal.
And then there was the matter of optics. Even if he won, what would it achieve? Hurting two junior disciples, even in self-defense, would only serve to further tarnish his reputation. The senior cultivators who already hated him would use the incident to paint him as a bully or a threat to the sect's younger members.
Kai sighed heavily, his gaze briefly flickering to the cluster of butterfly clovers. They weren't worth the trouble. Losing a patch of herbs wasn't nearly as damaging as escalating the animosity between himself and the others in the sect.
Without another word, Kai turned his back on the two juniors and walked away. Behind him, he could hear their smug laughter and the sound of clovers being hastily and carelessly plucked, but he forced himself to keep moving.
As much as it pained him to let the herbs go to waste, Kai knew that sometimes retreating was the wiser choice.
Kai began his journey back to his shack, his frustration simmering just beneath the surface. The encounter with the junior disciples had left him feeling far more irritated than before, their baseless accusations and arrogant attitudes gnawing at him. He clenched his fists as he walked, the dense forest around him providing little comfort this time.
"Stupid kids," he muttered under his breath, kicking a loose pebble on the path. It skittered off into the underbrush, disappearing into the greenery.
They really need to teach the younger generation some humility, Kai thought, his frustration simmering as he walked. I can't get over how quickly that brat jumped to violence. Sure, the world is brutal, but aren't we supposed to be part of a righteous sect?
The word righteous felt bitter on his tongue, a hollow title for an institution that so often turned a blind eye to the behavior of its members. It wasn't just their behavior that annoyed him—it was the sheer unfairness of it all. He had done nothing but stand up for what was right, yet here he was, vilified and ridiculed for it. The thought made his jaw tighten.
Kai wondered if perhaps those strange dreams of another world were influencing him more than he realized. Maybe they had planted unrealistic expectations in his heart, causing him to hope for a sect that upheld genuine morality—a beacon in a world where demonic cultivators openly scorned such ideals.
Yet, despite his frustrations, he didn't want to abandon that hope. He wanted to believe there was still a place for honor and integrity, even in the brutal reality of cultivation. Perhaps it was naïve, but it was a conviction he wasn't ready to let go of. Holding true to those ideals might not change the world, but it could at least keep him grounded in the midst of chaos.
The wind rustled through the treetops, carrying with it the faint herbal aroma that had led him to the butterfly clovers earlier. Ordinarily, that scent would have calmed him, but now it only served as a bitter reminder of the clovers he'd left behind.
One thing was certain: this encounter had only deepened Kai's growing disdain for cultivators.
Chapter 15
Kai eventually returned to his shack from the forest, the brief trek calming him somewhat after the earlier encounter with the junior disciples. As he approached his home, he paused for a moment, gazing up at the sky in every direction. The clouds were light and scattered, with no signs of an impending storm. The air carried a faint dampness, but it wasn't enough to suggest rain. Judging by these conditions and his years of experience living in this region, Kai was fairly confident it would remain sunny for the rest of the day. That was ideal for what he had planned.
He made his way over to a large drying rack he had constructed himself—a simple yet sturdy structure designed specifically for processing the herbs he collected. Reaching into his herb bag, he carefully emptied its contents onto the rack, spreading the freshly picked butterfly clovers evenly across the surface. He ran his fingers through the herbs, ensuring none were bunched together, and adjusted them meticulously.
Once satisfied with their arrangement, Kai hoisted the rack and carried it to a sunlit clearing near his shack. He placed it in a spot that was fully exposed to the sunlight, angling it slightly to maximize the herbs' absorption of the sun's qi.
Over the years, Kai had discovered that drying spirit herbs in direct sunlight had a remarkable effect. The gentle infusion of solar qi enhanced the potency of the herbs, making them more effective in alchemical processes. This subtle improvement could significantly increase the value of the herbs, earning him more merit tokens when he sold them to the sect.
Kai crouched down to inspect the placement of the rack one last time, ensuring it was stable and in the best position. Satisfied, he straightened up and allowed himself a small smile. The sun was high, the air was warm, and the gentle rustle of the forest surrounded him. It was a moment of quiet purpose—a rare, fleeting peace in an otherwise turbulent life.
Once Kai finished setting the herbs out to dry, he glanced up at the sun's position in the sky. Judging by its angle, he estimated it to be around two in the afternoon. His foraging in the forest had gone faster than expected, leaving him with more free time than he'd anticipated. Realizing he could dedicate the rest of the day to the spirit beasts lifted his mood considerably. A rare smile crossed his face as he quickly stowed his herb bag inside his shack and began his journey to the stables.
The path to the stable was long and winding, bordered by dense trees and patches of wildflowers. The tranquil scenery and the soft chirping of birds overhead had a calming effect, but there was a downside to such peace—it gave his mind room to wander. Despite his best efforts to focus on the present, his thoughts kept returning to the encounter with the junior disciples and the pain he felt over Yan's suffering. He tried to shake off the lingering frustration, but it clung to him like a stubborn shadow.
As he rounded a bend in the path, he noticed a group of people up ahead, walking toward him. This was unusual—few ever ventured near the stable area unless they had a specific purpose. As they drew closer, Kai's eyes narrowed, and he recognized the distinctive robes of high-ranking inner disciples. His stomach tightened with unease.
The realization struck him like a thunderclap. Lei Ju.
The sect elder's son was likely visiting the menagerie today, accompanied by other inner disciples eager to curry favor. Kai hadn't been informed, but it wouldn't have been the first time Lei Ju had shown up unannounced to flaunt his authority. Worse still, if they were on their way back from the stables, it meant they had arrived while Kai was out, leaving the area unattended.
A bead of sweat rolled down Kai's temple. If Lei Ju had expected him to be there and found he wasn't, it would be easy for him to twist the situation into a charge of negligence or incompetence. Lei Ju wasn't known for his patience or fairness, and he certainly wouldn't hesitate to berate someone as low-ranking as Kai.
Kai quickened his pace, the tranquil mood of earlier replaced by a mounting sense of urgency. This day just keeps getting better and better, he thought bitterly.
Kai hurried toward the group of inner sect disciples, his footsteps quickening with every stride. As he reached them, he came to an abrupt halt, dropping to his knees in a swift, practiced motion. His head bowed low in a kowtow, his gaze never once lifting to meet theirs, for in the strict hierarchy of the Ember Sword Sect, it was considered an offense for an outer sect member to look upon an inner sect disciple unless spoken to.
"Great and honorable senior disciples of the glorious Ember Sword Sect, whose blade pierces the very heavens," Kai began, his voice dripping with exaggerated reverence. "What can this lowly servant of the outer sect do to assist individuals of such unparalleled wisdom and esteemed virtue?"
The words tasted bitter as they left his mouth, but Kai forced himself to maintain a deferential tone. He despised groveling, but he knew all too well the consequences of showing even a hint of disrespect to these inner disciples. Their egos were as inflated as their robes were adorned, even more so than outer disciples, and the smallest perceived slight could lead to devastating repercussions.
Inner sect members like these had power, not just in cultivation but in their untouchable status within the hierarchy of the sect. If an outer sect member angered them, the punishment could range from a crippling injury to outright death. Worse still, the sect's leadership would turn a blind eye to such "discipline," dismissing it as an unfortunate but necessary expression of authority.
Kai remained still, his head bowed, silently hoping they wouldn't find fault with his words or actions. Just let this go smoothly, he thought. I can't afford another mess today.
"Who are you?" a voice demanded, sharp and unfamiliar, cutting through the tense air like a blade.
Kai froze momentarily, his heart skipping a beat. He had expected Lei Ju to interject, to explain his presence, but the silence that followed was deafening. Seconds ticked by, each one stretching longer than the last. When it became clear no one else would respond, Kai swallowed his hesitation and spoke, his tone practiced and deferential.
"This humble and inconsequential servant," Kai began, his words flowing with an almost rehearsed eloquence, "is but a lowly worker of the great and honorable Lei Ju—may his glory endure for a thousand years. I humbly serve as the stable master, tending to the spirit beasts in loyal service to the glorious Ember Sword Sect, whose radiance pierces the heavens."
Kai's voice was steady, each word calculated to appease. He carefully layered praise, ensuring no ego in the group went unacknowledged. In this moment, humility wasn't just a virtue; it was survival.
"Exactly who we were looking for!" the voice roared, brimming with authority and disdain. "You're under arrest!"
Kai's head snapped up in confusion, his gaze settling on the group before him. Five inner disciples stood in formation, their expressions severe. Only now, seeing them clearly, did Kai realize none of them were familiar. Lei Ju wasn't among them. His stomach sank, dread tightening its grip on his chest.
Before Kai could process or speak, four of the disciples moved in unison, their speed blurring as they surrounded him. Swords gleamed in the sunlight, their razor-sharp tips hovering mere inches from his neck. Instinctively, Kai raised his hands, palms open, in a gesture of surrender.
"W-what is going on?" he stammered, his voice tinged with both fear and incredulity.
"Still playing innocent," the leader sneered, stepping forward with an air of smug authority. "I should strike you down where you stand, but the Sect Leader has decreed you shall face judgment first."
"What crime have I committed?" Kai demanded, his voice shaky but rising with desperation. His mind raced, searching for any possible explanation for this accusation. "I don't understand—what am I being accused of?"
The leader's eyes narrowed, his voice cold and cutting. "You are under arrest for the crime of being a demonic cultivator."
Chapter 16
In the distance, Kai could make out the main Alchemy Pavilion, standing tall and imposing among the other buildings of the inner sect grounds. Its design was ostentatious, an unmistakable display of wealth and power. The building was the second largest in the area, dwarfed only by the grand sect hall that loomed even higher in the distance. Every direction Kai looked, the architecture was lavish, with intricate carvings and gilded accents that glimmered in the light, as if the very stones had been bathed in gold. The beauty of the place was undeniable, to Kai, it only highlighted the stark divide between the elite inner sect and those like him—lowly outer disciples.
Kai had never imagined, in his wildest dreams, that he would ever step foot in this sacred ground. The inner sect was a place reserved solely for the most skilled and powerful disciples—those who had earned their place through years of grueling training, cultivation, and favor from the elders. Kai had never been close to earning such a privilege. He had always known his place in the outer sect, working with spirit beasts, gathering herbs, and staying out of the political affairs that swirled in the halls of power. But now, under these grim circumstances, the inner grounds had become his prison.
Shackled and surrounded by armed inner disciples, Kai was being escorted through the heart of the sect. His hands were bound tightly in iron cuffs, the cold metal digging into his skin with every step he took. The presence of the disciples around him was suffocating—each one holding a weapon, their eyes sharp and distrustful. They moved in perfect synchronization, like a well-oiled machine, their every action sending a clear message: there would be no escape, no mercy. The weight of their stares bore down on Kai, and he couldn't help but feel small, insignificant in the face of their silent accusations.
Despite the overwhelming beauty of the inner sect grounds, Kai couldn't focus on anything but the shackle around his wrist, the bitter taste of injustice rising in his throat. He had been dragged here with no explanation, no chance to defend himself. The accusation of being a demonic cultivator echoed in his mind, absurd and horrifying. He had never engaged in dark practices, never even entertained the thought of it. Yet, here he was—caught in a trap, a pawn in a game he didn't understand, and powerless to stop it.
As Kai was ushered through the inner sect grounds, the streets were bustling with activity. Young cultivators, no more than a few years older than Kai himself, stopped in their tracks to stare at him. Their eyes were filled with curiosity, some whispering among themselves, others openly pointing or gesturing to their peers. It felt like a twisted spectacle—a show for the amusement of the privileged few. Kai could hear their hushed voices, their amusement at the sight of an outer sect member, a "criminal" no less, paraded through their sacred grounds. Some of them seemed to pity him, while others appeared to gawk at his shackles as if he were some curious animal on display.
Kai couldn't understand how things had escalated to this point. His mind raced, replaying the events that had led him to this humiliating walk. How had he gone from a simple, dedicated disciple of the outer sect to a prisoner in the heart of the sect's inner sanctum? The faces of the inner disciples, the glint of their swords, and the crushing weight of their judgment all blurred together in his mind. He had been working with spirit beasts and gathering herbs, trying to make a living. He never sought trouble, never asked for anything beyond that. And yet, here he was.
The group of inner disciples that surrounded him continued their march, the weight of their presence pressing on him like a constant reminder of his helplessness.
Soon, they arrived at the heart of the sect—the Main Sect Hall. Kai had never seen the building during his time in the outer sect, but now that he was standing before it, the sheer scale and opulence took his breath away. It was more than just a hall; it was a palace. The architecture was grand and imposing, designed to convey the power and prestige of the sect. The structure was rectangular in shape, with a series of grand arches framing the entrance, but it was the roof that truly set the building apart. Curved and sweeping, it was adorned with shimmering gold accents that reflected the sunlight, giving the entire building a divine glow. The golden tips of the roof seemed to touch the sky itself, as if daring anyone to question the sect's authority.
Kai swallowed hard, his throat dry. He had never imagined that a place so vast and lavish existed within the sect. To him, the Main Sect Hall was a symbol of everything that separated the inner disciples from the outer ones—a world of unimaginable wealth and power. It was a place where only the most favored, the most powerful, and the most important were allowed to tread. And yet, here he was, being marched into its shadow as a prisoner, with no idea what fate awaited him.
"Is this really happening?" Kai whispered under his breath, disbelief swelling inside him.
Kai's steps felt heavy as he was guided further into the depths of the Main Sect Hall, a place that exuded such wealth and grandeur that it made his head spin. As they passed through the grand entrance, they entered a long, polished corridor. The walls were adorned with intricate carvings and inlaid with precious stones that shimmered in the light. Redwood pillars rose high above, their smooth surfaces gleaming as if freshly polished. Golden accents framed every archway and door, adding an air of absolute majesty to the space. Kai couldn't help but feel a sense of claustrophobia, the opulence surrounding him pressing in from all sides. He had never been this close to such grandeur before, and now, it felt like the walls were closing in on him.
The group continued forward, their footsteps echoing off the polished floors until they arrived at a wide open chamber, even more elaborate than the hallway they had just passed through. The room seemed to stretch endlessly in all directions, filled with a sense of quiet power. The polished red wood that lined the walls continued into the chamber, and the air was thick with the scent of incense. Golden metal doors stood at strategic points around the room, gleaming as if they were artifacts in their own right.
At the far end of the chamber stood a group of men, all wearing the robes of sect elders. Their presence filled the room with a palpable authority. As Kai scanned the room, his gaze fell upon one particular elder, Sect Elder Shen Ju. The man stood with his arms crossed, his fiery eyes locked onto Kai, a look of seething disdain on his face. Kai could feel the weight of the elder's gaze, as though the older man were already mentally preparing to strike him down right where he stood.
Kai's heart beat faster, his pulse quickening as he took in the scene. This was far beyond what he had imagined when he first set foot in the inner sect. He could feel the power in the air—the absolute authority that these elders held over the fate of those beneath them. And now, he was at their mercy.
But it wasn't the elders that held Kai's attention the most. At the center of the room, on a grand elevated chair, sat the most imposing figure of all. Clad in robes of deep crimson with golden accents, the man seemed to radiate an aura of ancient power. His long white beard cascaded down to his chest, and his hair, also white, was tied up in a tight bun on top of his head. His gaze was sharp, his face lined with literal centuries of experience and wisdom. He had the air of someone who had lived for countless years, someone whose presence commanded the respect of every soul in the room.
This was Long Bo, the leader of the Ember Sword Sect, and the very man Kai had heard so many stories about—both from rumors and the official teachings of the sect. Long Bo was a legend in his own right, a man whose name was spoken with reverence and fear. His very presence seemed to bend the space around him. Kai could feel his heart hammering in his chest as he stood before the leader of the sect.
Long Bo's eyes fell on him, and in that moment, Kai felt as though the entire room had gone silent. The weight of the leader's gaze was unbearable, as if the man could see into the very depths of his soul. Kai's knees felt weak, and for a moment, he was certain that he would collapse under the pressure of the gaze of the great sect leader.
Without warning, one of the disciples that guided Kai here thrust a hand into Kai's back, pushing him down onto his knees with a brutal force. Kai's knees hit the floor with a jarring thud that sent a shockwave of pain through his legs, but he didn't dare cry out. He gritted his teeth, bowing his head low, not daring to look up at Long Bo. His body trembled, but he forced himself to remain still, knowing that even the slightest movement could be perceived as defiance.
"So, this is the one. Then the trial shall now begin." Long Bo stated.
Chapter 17
"Kai Tong, worker and outer disciple of the Ember Sword Sect," Long Bo's deep, commanding voice echoed through the chamber, drawing all eyes to the sect leader, "you stand accused of betraying your oath and aligning yourself with the vile arts of demonic cultivation, seeking to harm this righteous sect. What do you say to these grave accusations?"
Kai raised his head slightly, his voice steady but heavy with the weight of his predicament. "Great and honorable leader, I swear upon my honor and life—I am innocent. I have never practiced demonic cultivation, nor have I conspired with demonic cultivators."
Long Bo's piercing gaze lingered on Kai for a moment, his expression unreadable. "So, you maintain your innocence," he said at last, his tone as calm and measured as before. He turned his attention to the gathered disciples. "Bring forward the witness."
The disciple who had arrested Kai stepped forward, bowing deeply before addressing the sect leader. "Honorable leader," he began, his voice laced with conviction, "you tasked us with investigating for any signs of demonic cultivation. I have carried out your orders with diligence. In the course of our investigation, we discovered compelling evidence that implicates Kai Tong as a practitioner of demonic arts."
He pointed dramatically at Kai, his accusation ringing through the chamber like a gavel striking a judge's bench.
"What evidence do you present to support this claim?" Long Bo inquired, his voice steady but sharp with authority.
The disciple reached into a bag slung over his shoulder and withdrew a small, black fruit. He held it aloft for all to see, his expression triumphant. "We searched the stable area, where Kai Tong is stationed, and discovered this," he declared, the black fruit gleaming ominously in the chamber's golden light.
Kai's eyes widened in recognition. It was the meat fruit—his own creation, painstakingly developed to feed the carnivorous spirit beasts under his care. He had thought it a clever solution to a difficult problem, but now, it was being twisted into evidence against him.
"That is no ordinary fruit," the disciple declared, his voice resonating with righteous fervor as he held the dark, glossy fruit aloft for all to see. "This is a blood fruit, a sinister cultivation material used exclusively by demonic cultivators."
A collective murmur swept through the chamber, rippling like an uneasy tide. Faces twisted in shock and revulsion as the gathered disciples and elders processed the accusation. The disciple continued, his tone dripping with conviction.
"Blood fruits are not merely strange oddities of the natural world," the disciple proclaimed, his voice resonating with self-assured authority as he paced before the assembly. "They are the vile products of demonic trees—abhorrent creations that thrive only when nourished by the blood of humans and cultivators."
He paused, letting his words settle over the chamber, his expression grave. "During our investigation, we uncovered troubling reports from mortal communities within our sect's territory. Many have spoken of people mysteriously vanishing in recent days, their disappearances shrouded in fear and confusion. These incidents coincide suspiciously with Kai Tong's movements."
The disciple gestured toward Kai with accusatory force. "Kai Tong has been observed visiting one such settlement, a fact that cannot be dismissed as mere coincidence. What reason would an outer disciple—a stable worker—have to frequent mortal villages, except to abduct innocents and feed their blood to a demonic tree in order to cultivate these fruits?"
A ripple of shock and indignation surged through the crowd. Gasps and hushed murmurs filled the air, each word dripping with suspicion. Several elders exchanged grim looks, while others frowned deeply, their foreheads etched with concern. The weight of the accusation hung heavily in the chamber, as though the air itself had grown oppressive.
Kai's face blanched, and he shook his head vehemently. "That's not true! I've never harmed anyone, let alone abducted anyone from those villages. My visits were for trade—simple, honest trade to acquire feed for the spirit beasts."
The accusing disciple's lip curled into a sneer. "Trade? A convenient excuse, but hardly a credible one. Tell me, Kai Tong, how do you explain the fruit's presence? How do you explain the timing of these disappearances, aligning perfectly with your so-called 'trade visits'? Your protests are nothing more than the desperate lies of a guilty man."
Kai's heart raced as he struggled to compose himself, knowing that any sign of hesitation could seal his fate. "I can explain," he insisted, his voice steadying. "That fruit is not a blood fruit, nor is it connected to any demonic cultivation. It's something I created—an innovation to sustain the carnivorous spirit beasts under my care. The disappearances you speak of are tragic, but I had no part in them. I've been visiting these communities for years, long before these recent disappearances."
The tension in the chamber thickened as all eyes turned to Long Bo. The sect leader's expression remained unreadable, his piercing gaze fixed on the fruit as he contemplated the words spoken on both sides.
"Enough," Long Bo declared, his voice cutting through the noise like a blade. "Elders, you will examine the fruit immediately. Verify its nature and origins."
The room fell into a tense silence as the elders approached to inspect the fruit, their movements deliberate and somber. Kai clenched his fists, praying that the truth of his work would withstand the scrutiny and dispel the shadow of doubt cast over him.
After several tense minutes of scrutiny, during which the elders whispered among themselves and gestured at the fruit with careful deliberation, one elder finally stepped forward. His robes swayed slightly as he moved, the polished insignia of his rank gleaming under the chamber's golden light.
"Honorable Sect Leader," the elder began, his tone measured and thoughtful, "we have completed our examination."
Long Bo leaned forward slightly, his gaze fixed on the elder. "And what have you concluded? Is this, as alleged, a blood fruit?"
The elder hesitated briefly, glancing back at his peers before continuing. "The matter is... complicated. This fruit shares several characteristics of a blood fruit, including its color, texture, and certain elemental traces. However, it also exhibits traits that are distinctly unlike any blood fruit recorded in our archives."
The room buzzed softly with murmurs of speculation, but the elder raised his hand to silence them before pressing on. "Most critically, the fruit lacks the presence of demonic qi—a defining feature of a true blood fruit. Without demonic qi, it would be utterly useless for demonic cultivation. This singular fact has led the majority of us to conclude that this is not a blood fruit."
A collective exhale rippled through the chamber, though the tension remained palpable. Long Bo's brow furrowed as he considered the implications. "So, you cannot definitively classify this fruit?"
"That is correct, Sect Leader," the elder admitted, his expression sober. "It is unique—an anomaly, perhaps even an invention. While it mimics certain traits of a blood fruit, its lack of demonic qi absolves it of any immediate ties to demonic practices. However," he added cautiously, "this fruit still warrants further study. Its existence is unusual, and we cannot rule out the possibility of it being part of some larger, unknown scheme."
Long Bo's gaze shifted back to Kai, who knelt motionless, his heart pounding as he processed the elder's words. Though relieved that the fruit wasn't definitively labeled as a blood fruit, he knew the shadow of suspicion hadn't entirely lifted.
"Kai Tong," Long Bo addressed him directly, his voice stern. "This fruit, while not conclusively damning, raises questions that must be answered. You claim to have created it as sustenance for the sect's spirit beasts. Is this true?"
Kai nodded firmly, lifting his head just enough to meet Long Bo's eyes with sincerity. "Yes, Honorable Leader. I designed it to solve the issue of feeding the carnivorous beasts."
"How did you create such a thing?" Long Bo asked, his piercing gaze locked on Kai.
Kai hesitated. He knew that explaining the process might complicate his defense, but withholding information could be even worse. After taking a steadying breath, he spoke, choosing his words carefully.
"Honorable Leader," Kai began, "while foraging in the forest for herbs, I came across a blood tree—a precursor to a demonic tree. It had not matured, nor had it been fed the blood of a human or cultivator. Without such nourishment, it could neither produce blood fruits nor transform into a true demonic tree. Seeing its dormant state, I thought to experiment and see if it could be made to bear fruit without ever crossing into demonic cultivation. My aim was to harness its potential while preventing it from becoming harmful."
A ripple of shocked murmurs spread through the chamber. One of the accusing disciples stepped forward, his finger pointing directly at Kai. "See, Honorable Leader! He openly admits to cultivating this fruit from a demonic tree!"
Before the accusation could escalate, Long Bo's voice thundered across the hall. "Silence, you fool!" His glare bore down on the disciple, whose bravado instantly crumbled into meekness. "A blood tree is not a demonic tree. As Kai has correctly stated, it is merely a precursor. If it is never fed blood, it will remain an ordinary tree and pose no threat."
The murmurs subsided as Long Bo's commanding voice filled the chamber, his tone sharp and authoritative. "Our sect archives document such trees," he began, his gaze sweeping across the gathered crowd. "They are a natural phenomenon, not inherently evil. Only through deliberate and vile actions does a blood tree transform into a demonic tree. However," he added, his eyes narrowing, "a blood tree will also never bear fruit unless it is fed blood and allowed to become a demonic tree. So, Kai Tong, how is it that this tree bore fruit without following that path?"
All eyes turned to Kai, their gazes heavy with suspicion and curiosity. Kai swallowed hard, feeling the weight of the moment pressing down on him. He hesitated, his mind racing for the right words. Finally, he straightened slightly, his voice quiet but firm.
"I… um," he started, pausing to gather his thoughts. "I crossbred it."