"Young Lord… the act of cultivating itself… is slowly killing you."
"!!!!"
The words struck me with the force of a blade carving through my chest. Every heartbeat felt magnified, every breath seemed to catch in my lungs as if the air itself had grown heavier, pressing against my ribs. The world tilted around me, faint and unstable, as though my senses were struggling to reconcile the truth that Doctor Guyang had just spoken.
His expression was grave, etched with the weight of the knowledge he had carried in silence until this moment, his eyes flickering with a deep, almost unbearable remorse that seemed to emanate from every line of his face, from the tight set of his jaw to the subtle tremor of his fingers.
He felt a profound sense of guilt for having to speak these words, and the intensity of that guilt was unmistakable, permeating the space between us with a tangible heaviness that seemed almost to press upon my very bones.
To tell me that the very path I had dedicated myself to, the cultivation I had pursued with relentless determination, was slowly killing me was a burden no one could carry lightly, and yet he had no choice. The truth could no longer be postponed; to delay it any further would have been an unforgivable risk that might cost me my life before I could even comprehend the danger.
The sincerity in his gaze, the careful deliberation behind each word, was his only hope that I would understand the peril without allowing despair to consume me entirely, that I might pause my ambition long enough to preserve the fragile thread of life that remained in my body.
'…No… way…'
The realization settled over me like a suffocating fog, dense and oppressive, pressing against my chest with invisible hands that left me momentarily gasping for breath, as though the very act of inhaling drew in despair itself.
Every memory of my recent efforts, every session spent struggling against the unyielding walls of my qi blockages, flooded my mind with a cold clarity. All the obstacles I had sought to overcome, all the painful barriers I had strained against, had not been enemies seeking to thwart me; they had been safeguards carefully crafted by fate and nature to preserve my fragile life, to protect me from the very danger I had now confronted.
Everything I had done to conquer one obstacle had only revealed the existence of a far greater, far deadlier one waiting just beyond it. Each triumph had been laced with peril, each breakthrough a step into a tighter noose.
To any observer, the irony of it all would have been painfully clear: fate seemed to toy with me with relentless cruelty, forcing me to the brink over and over again, regardless of my skill, my strength, or my resolve.
'Does that mean I've been cultivating nothing but death energy this entire week?'
I replayed every session in my mind, each deliberate breath, each precise movement, each pulse of internal energy I had forced into circulation. The terrifying truth revealed itself with horrifying clarity: for the past week, every ounce of my effort had been an act of reckless defiance against mortality itself, a flirtation with annihilation masquerading as cultivation.
I had amassed what should have been a year's worth of life energy, yet the substance that now coursed through my body was the polar opposite: death energy, cold and potent, normally lethal to all living beings, now flowing through my veins as though my body had been cursed—or perhaps chosen—to bear it.
Yet, despite the deadly truth, a contradiction pulsed within me, an unexpected vitality that surged in opposition to my fear. I did not feel weak or withering; on the contrary, I felt invigorated. My body thrummed with a strange, electrifying vigor, every nerve ending alive with sensation, every heartbeat a drum of exhilaration.
Perhaps it was the thrill of finally wielding the power I had long desired, the adrenaline of breaking through barriers for the first time in this new life, the intoxicating ecstasy of feeling qi surge into my dantian with precision and control.
Perhaps my body possessed an unforeseen resilience, an anomaly that allowed me to transform what should have been lethal into something energizing, or perhaps it was merely my own unyielding determination that tricked my senses into interpreting danger as power.
Whatever the source, I felt more alive than I ever had before, a paradoxical fusion of death and life energy coursing through me as though each opposed force were amplifying the other rather than cancelling it out.
Despite the vitality, the danger remained undeniable. For an ordinary person, exposure to such concentrated death energy—even for a moment—would bring gradual deterioration, an inexorable slide toward an untimely grave.
Now, with it circulating freely throughout my body, the risk was unprecedented, and though I felt invigorated, I knew that the exhilaration did not equal safety. The margin between life and death had become perilously thin, as delicate and fleeting as a candle flame in a storm, yet I could not abandon the pursuit entirely.
"What do I do now, Doctor Guyang? As you've seen, my qi blockages are all gone. Doesn't that mean nothing is stopping my unconscious cultivation from absorbing death energy?"
His eyes narrowed as he considered the gravity of my words. The implications were severe; I had been cultivating for an entire week, and the revelation that my cultivation was unconscious only compounded the urgency. Doctor Guyang recalled times when others had accidentally broken their own qi blockages, only to experience gradual weakness, accelerated aging, and a lifespan bleeding away day by day.
He recognized that my body could already be in a precarious balance between life and death, teetering along a razor's edge that might not endure even a minor misstep. The weight of responsibility pressed upon him as he assessed my condition, knowing that any wrong intervention could tip the scales irreversibly.
Though I had not yet experienced the lethal consequences, the knowledge that my body teetered on the brink sharpened my resolve. I would not risk losing this second chance at life—not to recklessness, not to desire, and not to ignorance. Every cell in my body, every beat of my heart, screamed a singular truth: survival must come first, strategy second.
Doctor Guyang's voice, calm yet filled with the authority of one accustomed to life-and-death decisions, broke the tense silence. "Hmm… perhaps we could create an artificial blockage to prevent any more death energy from entering. That would seal your meridians once again, halting your cultivation entirely, yet it would also preserve your life."
"Sealing… my… cultivation…" The words fell from my lips reluctantly, heavy with the knowledge that this choice carried consequences far beyond the immediate. To allow my meridians to be sealed was to accept the cessation of growth, to relinquish the very power that I had longed for with every fiber of my being, to surrender the ability to protect those I cared for, and to forfeit any hope of preparing for the day that loomed inevitably on the horizon.
To refuse was equally terrifying, for continuing to cultivate under these circumstances risked a sudden, violent end that might obliterate my body before I could even react.
My fists clenched, the skin around my knuckles paling as I weighed the unbearable options. Both paths were steeped in peril and longing, both tugged insistently at the depths of my desire and fear. Yet, beneath the whirlwind of conflicting thoughts, a single truth remained clear: survival was paramount, and survival demanded sacrifice.
'If I choose to accept the sealing of my meridians, I will be powerless to confront "That Day," unable to defend Geonu or anyone else who relies upon me. Yet to refuse… would I gamble my life against fate itself, risking everything for a fleeting sense of accomplishment that could end me at any moment?'
The craving for cultivation surged within me, restless and insatiable, flaring like a living entity that whispered insistently against the rational voice in my mind. It urged me to rebel, to push forward, to ignore the peril and seize strength regardless of consequence.
For twenty years, I had trained, struggled, endured pain and humiliation, shedding sweat, tears, and blood with the belief that each sacrifice brought me closer to mastery. The thought of abandoning all that, of letting effort be nullified by circumstance, was a torment nearly as cruel as the threat of death itself.
'Perhaps I should accept it. If I die, I won't even get to enjoy this second chance at life that has been granted to me. Perhaps yielding now is the only way to preserve the future.'
The craving howled in defiance, each whisper a seductive temptation to reject caution, each surge a test of my resolve. I centered myself, focusing on the stillness within the storm, refusing to let desire dictate my actions.
Survival must come first, even if it meant deferring ambition, even if it meant sealing away the power I had so long sought.
'Let us accept the sealing of my meridians. I will endure this limitation for now, devise another strategy, and eventually find a method to counter the death energy, to reclaim the cultivation that is rightfully mine. Survival is the first step toward triumph, and patience is a weapon just as sharp as any sword.'
With a breath both reluctant and resolute, I made my choice. I would pause cultivation, but I would not surrender entirely. The path forward might be shrouded in uncertainty, but I would navigate it with the same determination that had brought me to this point. I would endure, I would survive, and I would rise again.
Doctor Guyang observed silently, the weight of my decision reflected in the quiet focus of his eyes, as he prepared to implement the sealing procedure.
"I… I think I'll choose sealing my meri—"
"But before you answer that… I must ask you, how were you able to break through those qi blockages in the first place?"
"?!!!"
The interruption was abrupt, cutting through my thoughts, yet the urgency and seriousness of his tone demanded my full attention. He sought an explanation for an achievement that would normally require a master of his caliber, and to be found wanting in my answer would risk suspicion, perhaps even the trust I had fought to maintain.
I carefully crafted my words, measured and tentative, aware that the slightest misstep could expose my recklessness. "I… I don't know… I only realized just now that I even have a dantian."
"Is that so… hmm…" His eyes narrowed slightly, skepticism flickering across his features, yet tempered by his careful restraint.
"It's not that I don't believe you, Young Lord," Doctor Guyang said slowly, his tone measured, "but rest assured… I will not tell anyone of what you are hiding. That being said…" His gaze sharpened, weighing each word, "I must ask the question. Did you rely on demonic arts to achieve this breakthrough?"
The words struck me with the force of a thunderclap, reverberating in my mind like an accusation that threatened to shatter every carefully maintained thought. Demonic arts. Forbidden, vile, and utterly condemned methods, whispered about in fear and disgust by every faction, every master, and every scholar who claimed honor. To be suspected of such practices was… unnerving, almost humiliating, yet it also carried the weight of curiosity and suspicion, as if my abilities were too improbable to be natural.
"??!!" My heart hammered violently, my pulse flaring as adrenaline surged through me. My breath caught, chest tightening as my mind raced to craft a response. The very notion of demonic arts conjured images of unthinkable acts: the consumption of human flesh, the drinking of blood, the violation of women, the desecration of morals, and the sacrifice of one's own sanity in pursuit of unnatural strength.
These were methods that could accelerate power exponentially, but at a cost that no soul should endure.
I could feel my hands twitching involuntarily at my sides, my fingers curling as though I could grip and crush the invisible chains of suspicion that now bound me. The memory of the Reverse Qi Flow Method flashed vividly in my mind — a technique inspired by an offer I had once refused, a demonic art presented under the guise of learning, a temptation I had rejected, yet whose essence had lingered, a spark of inspiration that had fueled the creation of my own method.
I swallowed hard, steadying my racing heart, and responded, voice taut but controlled. "Demonic arts?! No way! I would never use such things to cultivate! I… I would never sacrifice my humanity, my morality, or my conscience for strength, not even to survive."
Doctor Guyang's eyes narrowed, scrutinizing me with the keen perception of a master. He had seen the toll of dangerous techniques, the marks of forbidden methods, and yet he also knew that ingenuity often arose from the edge of desperation.
His gaze lingered, searching, analyzing every microexpression, every subtle shift in posture, every imperceptible twitch that could betray the truth.
'I must be careful,' I reminded myself, heart still pounding. 'I cannot reveal the true recklessness, the ignorance, the sheer luck that brought me here. I must craft a narrative that explains my success without inviting suspicion or doubt, but that also acknowledges the appearance of extraordinary skill.'
I took a measured breath, attempting to steady my voice into that of a boy recounting something extraordinary yet plausible. "W-Well… I don't know if it can even be considered a demonic art, but I found a cultivation method in an unknown grave, hidden beside a qi herb in the forest. I… I memorized the technique and burned the manual after committing it to memory, so I can only explain it verbally now."
Doctor Guyang's brow furrowed slightly, surprise and interest flickering in his expression. "Unknown grave? May I see this cultivation method?"
"Yes," I replied carefully, forcing a calm tone, though my chest still raced from the accusation of demonic arts. "Of course, but as I said, I no longer have the manual. I memorized it and then destroyed it."
I began to recount the Reverse Qi Flow Method in painstaking detail, speaking slowly and deliberately, emphasizing the mechanics, the flow of energy, the peculiar reversal techniques, and how the qi herb had amplified my ability to maintain control without causing immediate harm.
Every movement of my hands as I illustrated the flow, every modulation of my voice, was calculated to convey the method convincingly without revealing the presence of the death energy already coursing through me.
Doctor Guyang listened intently, analyzing each nuance, each gesture, each carefully chosen word. His sharp mind weighed the plausibility of the technique, tracing its potential outcomes and risks. I could sense his thought process in fragments:
'Hmm… this is more a Qi method than a demonic art. If used in conjunction with a qi herb, it could indeed allow him to break through his qi blockages, but it is still a suicidal technique if mismanaged. The original practitioner must have faced extraordinary challenges, and even then, survival would have been uncertain.'
I watched him carefully, noting the shift in his posture as he processed the explanation.
Relief flickered in his eyes, a quiet acknowledgment that the method was not inherently demonic, though the potential for harm remained. He was cautious, as any master would be, unwilling to endorse an untested technique fully, yet reassured that the young lord before him had not strayed into forbidden territory.
"I see… Young Lord," he finally said, voice steady and commanding. "Shall we proceed with sealing your meridians? The sooner we do it, the more damage we can prevent, and the greater the chance of preserving your life."
"Yes," I replied, the word heavy with the weight of reluctant determination. My chest tightened, a mixture of fear and resolve coiling tightly within me, but I refused to waver. I had chosen survival, but that did not mean surrender. I would endure, I would survive, and I would seek another path to reclaim what had been temporarily set aside.
I removed my upper clothing, exposing my back to Doctor Guyang's practiced hands. He placed them on my meridians, sending internal energy coursing through my body.
The sensation was far more intricate than any pulse reading or ordinary energy flow I had felt, a complex dance of pressure, resistance, and subtle warmth that spread through every fiber of my being.
'This must have been such a hard decision for him,' he thought. 'For years he has desired cultivation, and now he must seal it to survive. If he does not… he will not live to enjoy the strength he has fought so hard to attain.'
Doctor Guyang focused, sending his energy down through my meridians toward my dantian. Shock crossed his face — the dantian was fully formed, complete with a foundation of energy stable enough to conduct the sealing process.
Yet what astonished him even more was my vitality, the peculiar strength and liveliness that seemed to radiate from me, as though the death energy that should have been lethal had been transformed into a source of vigor.
'How can he defy all odds?' he thought, leaning closer, sensing the energy within. 'Instead of weakening, his body grows stronger. The death energy, which should kill, is instead fortifying him, integrating into his qi as if it were life energy.'
He studied me closely, observing the speed at which the energy circulated, the way it coursed through my body with precision and intensity unlike anything he had ever encountered. The flow resembled that of a heavenly gifted martial body, rapid and potent, yet harmonious rather than chaotic.
Doctor Guyang's expression softened slightly, a glimmer of hope and awe in his eyes as he realized that what should have been a catastrophic condition was, in this instance, a rare anomaly of extraordinary potential.
With careful precision, he withdrew his internal energy, pausing before beginning the sealing. His sudden hesitation sent a ripple of uncertainty through me, though I remained focused, suppressing the restless craving that had been quieted only temporarily by my resolve.
'Why did he stop?' I thought, tension coiling in my chest. 'Did he notice something unusual in my energy? Did he detect my secret cultivation? Or is my death energy simply too strong to be contained by ordinary methods?'
I remained silent, controlled, waiting as he assessed the situation, knowing that only his expertise could resolve the uncertainty.
Finally, he spoke, measured and deliberate, the weight of his words carrying an unexpected reassurance. "Hmm… Young Lord, I have discovered a strange anomaly within you that may resolve all our problems without the need to seal your meridians entirely."
"What do you mean?" I asked, tension coiling like a spring, every nerve alert.
After a long pause, his words offered relief: they confirmed that my secret had not been discovered, yet hinted at something extraordinary beyond my comprehension. "Young Master… it seems that, perhaps, there is no need to worry about sealing your meridians, as the problem may have resolved itself."
My mind reeled, the implications spinning with possibility and danger, yet the vitality surging through me, the inexplicable strength drawn from death energy, and the carefully maintained secret of my method coalesced into a singular thought: survival was possible, and power, at last, had become attainable in a form I had never imagined.