Hun Yao sat quietly for a moment after Shen Xue left, letting the warmth of the medicine seep into his body. His mind lingered on Captain Wa Xiang… a hero punished for choosing his family.
He let out a long breath. "This world… isn't always kind to those who follow their hearts."
Hun Yao lifted the thin blanket over his legs and stood up. His body was still a little weak, but he forced himself out of the room and climbed the wooden stairs to the upper floor.
There, a softer medicinal aroma floated in the air—
a mixture of Qinghe leaves and Lianmu root, the signature scent of internal healing concoctions. He slowly pushed the door open.
Xiao Cao lay on the bed, her face far calmer than the last time he saw her. Her breathing was steady, her cheeks slightly colored, no longer pale and lifeless like yesterday.
Hun Yao approached and sat on the wooden chair beside the bed. He stared at her for a long moment, as if trying to make sure this wasn't a dream.
"Thank goodness… you're safe," he whispered softly.
He closed his eyes briefly, feeling the tight knot in his chest slowly unravel. After confirming Xiao Cao was out of danger, he moved to the corner of the room and sat cross-legged on the straw mat Shen Xue had prepared.
His hands formed a simple seal as he began regulating his breath—slow, deep, steady. The Qi inside him, chaotic after the battle, converged again, flowing through his meridians like a river returning to its source.
But when he guided the Qi into his Dantian, something unexpected happened.
The flow didn't just settle for recovery.
It spun faster and faster, forming a small vortex that widened, like water pulling in every current around it.
Hun Yao opened his eyes slightly. This… wasn't mere healing.
The Qi of the world around the room began to respond. Threads of invisible energy appeared, slipping into his skin, traveling through his meridians, then pouring into his Dantian with growing force.
The temperature dropped sharply. Xiao Cao stirred faintly in her sleep, sensing the shift, but remained peacefully unconscious.
Hun Yao closed his eyes again, allowing the process to continue.
Within his body, an image of his meridian network emerged like a creature—"a monster" formed from strands of light.
Its heart was the Dantian, glowing like a beating core, while the major meridians shaped its body, and the acupoints its limbs.
Today, one "monster" awakened within him.
The heart that had been dormant… slowly opened. His Dantian pulsed violently, pumping Qi through his entire body, making his Qi flow denser and smoother.
A warm yet heavy sensation washed through him. His body felt lighter, but he knew—
his strength had risen.
He inhaled deeply… then exhaled.
WHOOSH—
A wave of Qi burst outward, shaking the curtains, flickering the oil lamp, and lifting dust from the corners of the room.
Hun Yao opened his eyes. His gaze felt sharper, his mind clearer.
"Looks like… I've reached the second stage, the Vein Awakening Realm," he murmured.
He looked at his hand, clenching it tightly.
"Whatever comes next… I'll be ready. And I will uncover the truth of this country."
---
Hun Yao stepped out of the apothecary. The evening air greeted him with dust and thin smoke drifting from street-side furnaces. His stomach felt hollow—he only now realized he had lived for days on medicine and thin porridge.
His eyes fell on an old shop at the corner of the street.
The paint was faded, the signboard crooked, but a warm, gentle aroma of broth drifted through the slightly open door.
He entered. Behind the counter, an old man with messy white hair greeted him with a humble smile.
"Please sit, young man. What would you like to eat?"
"One bowl of noodles… something warm," Hun Yao replied.
It wasn't long before the old man served him a clay bowl of noodles. The broth was golden and clear, fragrant with scallions. Hun Yao lifted the chopsticks, blew gently, and took a bite—it was simple, but it warmed both stomach and heart.
But the peace didn't last long.
The shop door slammed open. A young man dressed in luxurious clothes—blue silk robes with a golden belt—entered with six armed guards. His face was youthful, but his eyes were arrogant.
"Hah! This shabby place is still standing?" he mocked, kicking a chair aside. The guards laughed, and one spit near the counter.
The old shopkeeper bowed slightly, his voice trembling, "Please… don't cause trouble here…"
"Cause trouble? Hahaha!"
The young noble grabbed the coin tin on the counter and dumped the coins onto the floor. "This is what I call trouble!"
Outside, an elderly woman accidentally bumped into one of the guards. Instantly, the young noble snatched her basket—filled with vegetables and a small bundle of rice.
"Payment for walking through my territory!" he sneered.
Hun Yao set his chopsticks down slowly. His gaze hardened. He stood and approached without haste.
"Put that down," he said flatly.
The guards turned. One of them laughed mockingly. "Who are you? Want to die, sick boy?"
The young noble scanned Hun Yao from head to toe and smirked.
"Do you even know who I am?"
"No," Hun Yao replied calmly, "and it seems… I don't need to."
The noble lifted his chin proudly.
"I'm the son of the noble family in charge of the western market! Every merchant here bows to me. And you dare interfere?"
Hun Yao stepped forward, each step sharp as a blade.
"If the western market is run by trash like you, no wonder this city reeks."
A small crowd gathered at the doorway. Whispering filled the air—anticipation, fear, curiosity.
The young noble's face flushed red in humiliation. He waved his hand angrily. "Beat him!"
The six guards lunged forward. The wooden floor groaned under their weight.
Hun Yao shifted to the side, dodging the first strike, then slammed his elbow into a guard's jaw. One staggered, but two more closed the gap instantly.
Metal clashed as their blades struck his arm coated in a thin layer of Qi. Pain jolted through his bones—his newfound strength wasn't enough to withstand relentless attacks.
He parried a thrust, stepped forward to grab a guard's neck, but a kick smashed into his ribs from behind.
"Urgh!" Hun Yao staggered, tasting iron in his mouth.
A blade crashed onto his shoulder, forcing him to one knee.
Punches and kicks hammered his body. His breath fractured. Blood dripped from his lips.
"In this state… I can't take on all six…" he thought.
Yet he remained upright—his gaze cold, unyielding.
The young noble clapped mockingly. "See? Just big talk. Now you're the stray dog." He leaned close to Hun Yao's face.
A guard raised his spear, its tip glinting under the oil lamp.
Hun Yao saw it descend—slow, yet too fast for his exhausted body.
Then—
CRAAASSHHH!!
The door burst open. A gust of icy wind swept inside, followed by a shadow moving like lightning.
In an instant, the spear flew into the air—broken clean in half.
"Enough," a cold, firm voice said.
Shen Xue stood there, her robe fluttering. Her glare froze the entire room, forcing the six guards to instinctively step back.
The young noble paled. "W-Who are you?"
Shen Xue didn't answer. She only glanced briefly at Hun Yao on the floor before returning her icy gaze to the guards—
a stare that made them feel as though an invisible hand was gripping their throats.