The next day, Wuji woke up before dawn. His body still ached, but he pushed through the pain and limped toward the chief's hut. He stopped at the entrance and stood in the chilly morning light, staring at the worn wooden door.
He stood there for a full minute, pondering the chief's behavior.
The way the chief had acted last time showed that he wasn't willing to hand over all the gold coins.
If it were before he had learned of the chief's true capabilities as a cultivator, he would have tried to argue with him. Now that he knew, however, he was afraid his neck might be snapped.
"No, I can't let fear stop me. I also need gold for large amounts of meat, herbs, and martial arts techniques. I need a lot," Wuji said to himself.
With determination, he knocked on the door. After a moment, the chief's voice echoed from inside: "Get in."
When Wuji stepped inside, he noticed the heavy, incense-scented air. He spotted Chen Yi seated cross-legged on a futon.
Beside him sat Waner, the little fangirl, and another boy around his age. All three were motionless, their eyes shut and their backs straight, as if carved from stone.
The village chief sat in front of them on a raised mat with his eyes closed, silently observing. When he sensed Wuji's presence inside the hut, he opened one eye slightly and pressed a finger to his lips.
Wuji said nothing. He stepped aside and stood quietly at the back, watching.
"Is this how cultivation is?" he wondered. "Just sitting there, and they're getting stronger?"
Twenty minutes passed. Wuji stilled remained standing his broken leg ached. The chief's steady, glowing gaze lingered on Chen Yi. Wuji could see clearly that this wasn't a master looking at a student. This was a man looking at an heir.
After another ten minutes, Chen Yi finally opened his eyes. They glinted with confidence.
"Grandpa," he said, excited. "I've reached the first stage of Qi Refinement."
The chief broke into a deep laugh that filled the hut.
"Truly worthy of a heavenly genius," he said. "Two days to reach Qi Refinement Stage One! If you continue at this pace, you'll rival me by the time the sect cultivators arrive; you may even surpass me."
"Two days to step into power… while I'm still fighting to stand upright," Wuji thought.
The other two disciples opened their eyes.
"Brother Chen, you really are a monster," the young man said, sounding half awed and half defeated. "I still can't sense Qi, and you're already a cultivator..."
"Hmph. Compete with Brother Chen?" Waner scoffed. "Keep dreaming."
Wuji's eye twitched.
"Monster? Really? That old bastard said he might even surpass him. Is he trying to piss me off on purpose?"
A slow burn flared in his gut.
"I need to move faster. If I stand still, they'll leave me in the dust forever."
He coughed lightly, just enough to break the smug silence and remind them that he was still there.
All three turned to look at him.
"Oh? What do we have here?" said the young man, his voice laced with fake friendliness. "Brother Chen, your friend dropped by to visit."
Chen Yi's gaze sharpened like a blade, landing first on Su Mao, then on Wuji.
"Who told you that a cripple who can't cultivate or fight is my friend?" he said coldly. "Don't humiliate me like that again. Next time, think before you speak."
Waner chuckled behind her hand. "Su Mao, Brother Chen's on a different level now. He can't walk around with mortals who could drop dead any day."
"Waner," the chief said mildly, still smiling, "that's enough. Focus on your cultivation."
Then he turned to Wuji, his expression smoothing into something unreadable.
"You came for the gold coins, didn't you?"
"Yes," Wuji replied.
The chief tossed a small pouch toward him. But before it could land, chen Yi snatched it from the air with casual speed:
He weighed the pouch in his palm and loosened the drawstring. Gold glinted in the candlelight.
"Fifty gold coins," he said with mock surprise. "That's quite a sum for a poor, rootless mortal like you."
He looked up, smiling thinly. "How about this? If you can take one move from me without falling, I'll double it. Fair deal, right?"
Wuji's jaw tightened. "I don't need your games. The chief already owes me. I'm not going to risk my body for your amusement."
Chen Yi chuckled. "You think Grandpa's going to give you more than this? How unbearably naïve."
Wuji's gaze flicked to the chief, who was still smiling as he silently watched the entire exchange as if it were a mild afternoon drama.
He exhaled, his voice calm but firm. "I'm not interested. Give me the pouch."
Chen Yi tilted his head innocently. "Did you hear that, Grandpa? He's implying that you're dishonest. That you'd break your word. Shouldn't I correct his thinking?"
He stood up slowly, his eyes gleaming. "Let me discipline him for you. It's only right that I your disciple enforce your honor."
"When did I say—" Wuji started, but the chief cut him off with a wave.
"Just don't injure him too badly," the chief said. "He needs to learn not to talk back to authority. I let him off easy last time."
Wuji's brows shot up.
"Don't injure me too badly?"
He laughed dryly. "So that's it? I question you once, and now I'm a punching bag?"
His gaze sharpened as Chen Yi stepped toward him. "What, because I dared to speak up when no one else would? You call that disrespect? You're the chief. Shouldn't you be used to questions by now?"
He lowered his stance, his legs trembling beneath him and his ribs screaming with every breath.
"I'm not your cabbage," he said coldly. "And I won't bow just because you smile while pulling strings from the shadows."
The chief said nothing. He just smiled wider.
Seeing that no one would stop it, Wuji raised his voice, his eyes locked on the three seated cultivators.
"Mark my words: One day, all of you—every last one—will pay for what you've done."
Whoosh.
Chen Yi vanished, and before Wuji could blink, a steel-like fist slammed into his stomach.
Wuji staggered backward and nearly folded in half. He collapsed onto one knee. Blood burst from his mouth and splashed across the floor. His breath came in short, broken gasps.
"Faster than Wang Da... and even more ruthless," he thought, his stomach convulsing.
Chen Yi towered above him like a god looking at a mortal.
"You said you'd make us pay?" he sneered. "Even if you lived a hundred lifetimes, you wouldn't touch the hem of my robe."
He tossed the pouch next to Wuji as though throwing scraps to a dog.
"Take it," he said coldly. "And don't let me see your face again. Next time, I'll put you down like a stray."
He turned and walked back to his seat without glancing back.
Wuji didn't move for a moment. He just stared, burning the four of them into his memory like brands on flesh.
He clenched his teeth so hard that his jaw cracked.
"I'll kill you," he vowed inwardly as he picked up the pouch with trembling fingers.
"I'll kill all of you," he thought as he turned toward the door. He limped from the chief's hut, his fury simmering behind a blood-smeared face.
Some villagers who had woken up early saw him leave with his mouth red, his hand on his stomach, and a furious look on his face.
"Wang Da said he has no martial talent," a teenager whispered.
"Really? Then he's just a cripple. Even my grandfather's tougher than him," said another.
"Yeah," Wang Da chimed in, smirking in his weighted vest. "Master said his meridians were a joke. I've seen stronger roots in cabbage."
Wuji didn't stop. He didn't respond. He just kept limping through the dirt path, past the snickers, smug faces, and pitying eyes.
"Laugh while you can," he thought. "You worms. You'll be the first to scream."
He reached the hut just before his legs gave out. Carefully and silently, he collapsed onto the straw bed, trying not to wake Meiyin.
His hand tightened around the pouch.
Blood still stained his lips. His eyes were wide open. He closed them slowly and activated his cellular regeneration trait. A cool sensation swept through his body, easing the pain but not the anger.
He didn't focus his mind on healing. It was on causing damage.
"Should I burn the village down? No, I'd be the first suspect, even if I didn't do it. They'd blame me, anyway."
"Should I poison the wells? Hm... risky. If the chief finds out, he might snap my neck before asking questions."
Every idea ended with him dead. That was the problem with being the outcast—everyone already had the rope ready.
"Maybe I should lie low and grow stronger..." But then his fists clenched. "Chen Yi's already breaking into the Qi Refinement realm after two days. If I stay quiet, I'll be nothing but a footnote in his rise."
Then an idea struck him.
"A false rumor... yes. Something big enough to attract outsiders. Something that will throw this peaceful shithole into chaos."
Thirty minutes later, his body had mostly healed, though not fully. Wuji sat up with dried blood along his chin. He staggered to the corner, splashed water on his face, and walked out to buy food.
His body's healing ability always left him starving, as if it had burned through its own reserves.
As he passed through the market, villagers glanced at him out of the corner of their eyes. In a village this small, his suffering was their favorite form of entertainment.
Back at the hut, Meiyin had just woken up. She didn't have school—there wasn't enough money for that. Yin Li's old wages hadn't been enough, and her friends either went to the village school or started bullying her. But she kept that to herself. Wuji had enough to deal with.
"Yin Yin, come help me carry this," Wuji called from outside.
Meiyin stepped out. "Brother, did the chief give you the rest of the gold coins? Did the Fifth Elder accept you as his student?"
"Later. First, help me get this inside," he said, dropping a bundle from his back.
She knelt and unwrapped one of the parcels. "Too much meat. Are you turning into a meat demon?"
They stacked the goods in the corner near the water pots. Wuji fetched the iron pot, filled it, and set it on the fire. Meiyin sliced the meat while Wuji added salt and herbs.
As the stew simmered, Wuji sat on the edge of the bed; his ribs were still sore. Meiyin sat beside him.
"Now you can tell me what the Fifth Elder said, right?"
"He said I don't have the talent for martial arts."
Meiyin's smile faltered. She lowered her eyes. "That doesn't matter. You still have me, right?" She smiled again, trying to be brave for him. "I'll ask the chief to test my spirit root. If I have one, I'll become a cultivator and protect you."
"No," Wuji said immediately. "That bastard doesn't like either of us. He might ask something in return for the test."
"But he didn't ask you last time."
"That was before things got worse between us," Wuji cut in. "He only gave me part of the gold. Next time, he might not give me anything. Or worse, he might just snap my neck."
Meiyin clenched her fists. "That old bastard… hypocrite."