Chapter Twenty-Nine: Go After Gu Xijin

Chapter Twenty-Nine: Go and Pursue Gu Xijin

The effect of oblivion brought by the Underworld Ghost Rain Sword Technique was, after all, only temporary. Once Fang Junmei had mastered the new four moves, the sensation of thirst surged forth with an even more frenzied force.

“Oh heavens!”

A piercing cry escaped Fang Junmei’s lips. With a bang, the peach wood sword fell to the ground, and his hands, unable to resist any longer, pressed against his unnaturally dry and itchy throat, scratching desperately.

The scratching brought some relief.

After a few moments of comfort, Fang Junmei managed to rein in his hands. Yet after a few breaths, he began to scratch again. The more he scratched, the better it felt; the more he scratched, the more he wanted to. It was as if he were addicted, and the further he went, the more force he needed to feel even a hint of relief.

Swish, swish—

Fang Junmei scratched relentlessly, knowing full well he was quenching thirst with poison, but unable to control his hands.

The cage had been opened, the tiger released; it would not return so easily.

Seven or eight bloody marks soon appeared on Fang Junmei’s throat. As time passed, the blood flowed more freely. If this trial did not end soon, or if he couldn’t find another way, it seemed he might truly tear open his own throat and bleed himself to death.

“For a few spirit stones, to suffer such agony and torment—is it really worth it?”

For the first time, regret stirred in Fang Junmei’s heart.

…

Sweat rolled down his forehead in torrents.

Blood gushed from his throat, staining Fang Junmei’s clothes crimson.

“I must stop scratching, I must stop!” he trembled as he spoke, but could not resist; he scratched harder and harder. This trial was more tormenting than any that came before.

His mind was in chaos, unprecedented confusion. Even as he tried to think of another solution, he could not focus.

Looking at his own hands, stained red with blood, he wished desperately to cut them off.

Roaring like a beast, Fang Junmei lowered his head and slammed a heavy fist into the ground.

The ground was hard as iron. With his spiritual power and senses sealed, Fang Junmei was but a mortal. When his fist struck, pain like shattered bone radiated through his hand, and he clutched his injured hand, howling in agony.

For a moment, he forgot the thirst tormenting his throat.

…

After rubbing his hand for a while, Fang Junmei realized he had temporarily forgotten. A look of joy appeared on his face.

“I’ve found a way!” he murmured. “If you challenge me with desire, I’ll suppress it with pain.”

With this thought, clarity dawned.

Ignoring the pain, Fang Junmei hurried to the wall and began pounding it with his fists.

Thud, thud, thud—

The dull thuds and his cries echoed through the cave.

Only pain that seeped into his bones could contend with desire that gnawed at his spirit.

…

Sun Yuqian finally opened the door, seven days later, just as the effects of the drug wore off.

Boom!

The door swung wide.

“Huff… huff…”

A faint, barely audible voice reached Sun Yuqian’s ears. He turned toward the sound and saw Fang Junmei lying on the ground like a half-dead dog, his clothes stained with blood, his fists dyed red, bones perhaps broken in countless places.

His once strong body was now gaunt, his face sallow and sunken, his throat bloody—a pitiful sight, unbearable to behold.

His eyes, red as blood, still held traces of pain. When Sun Yuqian entered, Fang Junmei seemed to have no strength left even to blink.

“…Congratulations, boy. You’ve caught up to the senior brother you’ve never met. I’ll give you three years to recover—and then, go and pursue Gu Xijin!”

After gazing deeply at Fang Junmei, Sun Yuqian spoke calmly.

His words brought Fang Junmei no pride, only a bitter smile. The fourth trial had been so arduous; how could he face the fifth, let alone the sixth and the ultimate elixir?

“Boy, you’d best not think of giving up. Once you pass a trial, you must complete the next. If you don’t, I won’t let you off,” Sun Yuqian, ever the old fox, saw through Fang Junmei’s thoughts, his tone cold, devoid of encouragement.

Fang Junmei nodded faintly, lacking the strength to speak.

Sun Yuqian approached, first lifting the seal on his spiritual senses and powers. Then he placed a hand on Fang Junmei’s shoulder, his spiritual sense coursing through Fang Junmei’s body to check his injuries, before channeling a vibrant, life-filled energy to heal him.

“Wood Spirit Qi?”

Fang Junmei’s eyes widened. He had only seen it once before, but recognized it. He also knew Sun Yuqian cultivated both Sword Spirit Qi and Wood Spirit Qi, and felt a renewed respect for the elder.

Most of Fang Junmei’s injuries were in his throat and fists. The throat wounds were superficial, but his hand bones were badly fractured and would require considerable time to heal.

“Boy, you certainly don’t hold back on yourself,” Sun Yuqian chuckled, uncertain whether it was praise or mockery.

He then produced a green bottle and handed it to Fang Junmei, saying, “The pills inside are Bone Renewal Pills, my own superior creation. Take one a day. Even so, your broken bones will need at least half a month to fully recover. Stay here on Medicine King Peak for now. The Peach Blossom Sword Sect is no true paradise—be wary of schemers.”

A stick, then a carrot.

Sun Yuqian mastered these tricks well.

“Thank you, Elder,” Fang Junmei replied, now able to muster some strength after his powers were restored. He endured the pain and took a Bone Renewal Pill. A cool sensation spread through his body, easing his pain somewhat.

“This is your reward for this trial. Come with me,” Sun Yuqian said, handing him a prepared storage pouch before turning away. Fang Junmei peered inside with his spiritual sense and finally smiled as he followed.

Five hundred mid-grade spirit stones!

This was Fang Junmei’s reward for this trial.

It was worth it.

He could cultivate for quite some time again.

Clutching the storage pouch tightly, Fang Junmei finally put it away.

…

Back on the surface, Sun Yuqian remained in the hall to cultivate, while Fang Junmei went his own way.

He first crawled to the well and drank his fill, his hands too wounded to clean himself. He found an empty room and set about healing.

Sun Yuqian’s prediction was spot on: after half a month, Fang Junmei’s injuries were completely healed.

No sooner had he emerged than Song Shedde was waiting in the courtyard, his gaze warmer than before. Tugging at his sparse beard, he grinned slyly, “Congratulations, Brother Fang, on passing another trial. Once we set out, I can explain the secrets of swordsmanship to you.”