Chapter Fifty: Tending to Wounds

Xie Yingying’s heart pounded violently, thundering in her chest as her blood rushed through her veins, yet her hands and feet felt icy cold, a faint sheen of cold sweat covering her skin.

She swallowed hard and slowly turned her head, only to see Huo Tianqing’s face, a faintly sinister smile curving his lips.

“Hmm, am I really that frightening?” Huo Tianqing asked with a smiling gaze.

“Heh…” Xie Yingying forced a laugh, doing her best to appear unruffled. “Master, you’re certainly not frightening at all.”

He nodded slightly, drawing out a long “Oh,” before smiling again.

But Xie Yingying saw clearly that his eyes held no warmth—only endless indifference and scrutiny.

“My disciple, since the others aren’t here, let’s get to the point. After all, I’m not sure how you’re faring since you returned from Gu Feng Mountain.” He looked concerned, as if truly worried, but to Xie Yingying, the expression seemed feigned.

“Master,” Xie Yingying said, face earnest, as if making a solemn vow, “my body is just fine—excellent, in fact!”

Catching her blatant lie, Huo Tianqing gave a short laugh. “Then why, when I rescued you from Gu Feng Mountain, did Bai Shengyun’s first move leave you in such agony? And why did it leave you so close to death?”

“I…”

“It’s related to the Celestial Fox’s primal force, isn’t it?” His tone turned icy.

Xie Yingying drew a sharp breath, staring at him in shock. “Master, how did you know?”

A slow, amused smile returned to Huo Tianqing’s face, and his eyes seemed less cold, his expression gentle. “I’ve lived more years than you and cultivated far beyond your level. Naturally, I know a few things.”

He raised his hand and tapped Xie Yingying lightly on the brow. She couldn’t help but shudder, a chill sweeping through her bones and soul.

Withdrawing his hand, Huo Tianqing’s expression remained unchanged. “The Celestial Fox’s primal force is incredibly fierce—a ticking time bomb inside you. Have you noticed your soul has already begun to erode?”

Xie Yingying stared blankly, unsure how to respond. She schooled her features into indifference, pretending she’d long been aware, afraid to let him see through her.

“So what?” she asked, feigning nonchalance. “The soul heals more slowly than the body, but with the right elixirs, even this kind of damage will recover quickly enough.”

“You’re mistaken. The Celestial Fox’s primal force is unlike any other—it prevents your soul from healing, the pain will only grow worse, and in the end, you’ll wish for death long before your body and soul are both destroyed,” Huo Tianqing said, pointing at her arm. “Just like your arm now.”

This time, Xie Yingying couldn’t hide her shock or the panic welling inside. Looking at Huo Tianqing, he seemed no longer like a man but an ancient beast lurking in bottomless darkness—his true power and nature unfathomable, making him all the more terrifying.

“Well then, your arm could still be healed. Do you need my help?” Huo Tianqing asked with a smile, breaking her from her daze.

Xie Yingying had long since stopped feeling pain from the wound, but at his words, the sharp ache returned.

“...The wound won’t heal within a month. Eventually, it will fester and rot.” Bai Shengyun’s words from that day suddenly echoed in her ears, making her shake her head, then nod in agreement.

Seeing this, Huo Tianqing realized she was remembering something unpleasant and said nothing more, leading her back to her chambers.

As soon as Xie Yingying sat in the chair, Huo Tianqing flicked his hand and her collar fell open, revealing her delicate collarbone.

She hurriedly pulled her clothes closed and stared at him in fright. “Master, can’t you just cut open my sleeve?!”

Huo Tianqing’s eyes darkened, his inscrutable gaze hidden as he pressed his fingers together and, in a blink, a slit opened in her sleeve at the arm.

Looking down, Xie Yingying saw the wound—it was black and rotten, leaking yellowish or white pus, the raw flesh visible with each breath.

Her eyes widened in horror and disbelief. “I haven’t felt any pain these days—how can the wound have become so serious?”

Huo Tianqing’s face was expressionless, but his eyes burned with a cold as biting as a winter blizzard—a killing intent that seemed to fill the room with dark mist.

Xie Yingying shrank back in fright.

Noticing, Huo Tianqing pressed his lips together, and the black fog thinned.

He frowned, extracting the powerful demonic energy from her wound—a process Xie Yingying felt nothing from. But then Huo Tianqing produced a short, gleaming knife and prepared to cut into her arm.

She shrank back, uneasy, watching him.

“Don’t worry. The wound is poisoned—your nerves are already dead. No matter what I do to your wound, you won’t feel a thing,” Huo Tianqing said with a sigh.

“Really?” She looked down at the mangled wound, doubtful but willing to believe.

Seeing her distrust, Huo Tianqing spread his hands in mild exasperation. “Why not let me try and see?”

Xie Yingying blinked, then squeezed her eyes shut, brow furrowed. She gingerly poked her wound.

Her fingers came away covered in pus, but she felt nothing.

Opening her eyes, she prodded the wound more forcefully—still no pain. At last convinced, she offered her arm.

Huo Tianqing fetched a tea tray, then lifted the short blade. As he sliced open a fresh wound, Xie Yingying turned her head away, unable to bear the sight.

“Tch… Can’t even bear this much? Back in the days of war between the two sects, I lost half a hand and my body was covered in wounds like yours—even my internal organs were battered. Still, I went back on the battlefield to kill,” Huo Tianqing said with a derisive laugh, skimming over that era of blood and tragedy as if it were nothing, though his expression turned icy as a blade.

Even just hearing this, Xie Yingying shuddered, unable to imagine someone suffering such dreadful wounds.

Stroke by stroke, Huo Tianqing cut away the festering flesh, dropping it onto the tea tray.

At first, Xie Yingying felt nothing. But after the time it took to drink a cup of tea, the wound had been pared back to the white of bone, most of the black, decayed flesh gone, leaving only raw, fresh red.

But Huo Tianqing raised the knife for one last cut. This time the pain was so sharp that Xie Yingying leapt up, face white as paper, staring at her exposed bone and suddenly thinking he was torturing her.

“Come here,” he beckoned with bloodied hand. “One last cut, or you’ll never be free of this.”

“But… the wound is already like this—surely the poison’s gone by now!”

He sighed, set the knife and the tray aside. “Very well, we’ll leave it at that.”

He treated her wound, then reminded her, “The power of the primal force is strong and domineering. Be careful.”

Xie Yingying nodded, taking the warning to heart.