A Pain
Li Qingyue lay in her bed, her hand stretched out toward the ceiling as she spoke softly to herself. "How can someone so young be so strange? He's like an elder who's lived for decades, yet he's young and beautiful on the outside. Inside, though, he's a demon who takes lives without a second thought." A chill ran down her spine as memories of that night resurfaced, shaking her to her core. "And yet, I admire him for that," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "I've trained with him for two weeks now, and my condition has improved. I can even sleep better." Images of countless sleepless nights flashed through her mind. "Tomorrow, I'll ask him out on a date. After all, we must keep up appearances," she decided, convincing herself it was the perfect excuse to approach him.
Meanwhile, in the forest, Zhuan Ming quietly followed another disciple who was hunting beasts and gathering herbs to earn spirit stones. "Honestly, when they started putting up warnings about going into the forest at night and all these disappearances, I thought it would be harder to kill," Zhuan Ming mused, his thoughts dark and calculating. "But these fools just keep coming." He found it ironic that they sought to better their lives, only to lose them in the process. "Humans always think, 'Bad things happen to others, but it will never happen to me.' Only to realize there's no special privilege in this life. It can happen just as easily as it might not. That's the beauty and cruelty of fate." As he pondered this, he continued to trail the disciple, waiting for the right moment to strike.
When he felt they were deep enough into the forest, Zhuan Ming leaped down from the trees, drawing his sword in one fluid motion. The blade sliced through the air with enhanced speed and power, but the disciple sensed the movement and ducked, narrowly avoiding the fatal strike. The boy's body surged with adrenaline, his instincts screaming at him to flee, but his relief was short-lived. Zhuan Ming channeled spiritual energy into the nirvana roots that now intertwined throughout his entire body, allowing him to abruptly change the direction of his attack. With a swift, diagonal slash, he cleaved the disciple's body in half.
Zhuan Ming's head throbbed with pain, a familiar agony that had been plaguing him lately. "Again, huh," he muttered through gritted teeth, forcing himself to stand despite the relentless pounding in his skull. "Strange. I don't have any other symptoms—this pain is my only clue to go by," he analysed once the throbbing subsided. "For now, I can only get stronger and hope it stops affecting me."
From his body, roots extended, piercing his skin—a painful but familiar sensation. The roots shot out, this time piercing the disciple's body and drawing blood, which they stored within.
Zhuan Ming started a fire, then placed herbs in one palm while a single root emerged from the other. He held the root in the flames until it absorbed enough fire energy, then pressed his palms together with great force. The stored fire and blood energy mixed with the herbs under intense heat, quickly forming a pill. It was a technique the Qi Pill Ancestor had taught him, making it easier and more convenient to use the pill path. "Good!" the Qi Pill Ancestor praised as Zhuan Ming swallowed the pill, feeling the blood path energy flow through him. "I should soon be ready to break through," he thought, breathing deeply to calm himself after the pain of using spiritual energy. The pain was less intense this time. With a final glance at the forest, Zhuan Ming disappeared into the shadows.