Chapter Sixteen: Survival

Chi Yuan slowly opened his eyes and found himself in an unfamiliar room. Sitting up, he rubbed his forehead, his mind clouded and his body aching faintly all over. Yet, when he looked down, he could not help but be startled—all the wounds he had suffered in the previous battle, both large and small, had nearly healed. Even the claw mark on his left shoulder, which had once been so deep the bone was visible, remained now as nothing more than a faint red scar upon his skin.

Channeling his inner vision, Chi Yuan confirmed that his external injuries were no longer a concern; even his internal wounds had greatly improved. The dantian, once on the verge of collapse, had stabilized. Though his energy still surged and churned within, as long as he did not attempt any great exertion in the immediate future, there should be little cause for worry.

The room was empty, and he had no idea why he was here. Retrieving a set of clothes from his dimensional pouch, he brushed the dust from himself with a cleansing spell, changed, and stepped out the door. Only then did he realize he was within the Ji residence. Not far away, in a small pavilion, Ling Yan was conversing with the old matron of the Ji family. Upon seeing Chi Yuan, both women approached.

The old woman spoke first, “Young hero, you’re finally awake.”

Ling Yan continued, “Yes, you were unconscious for a long time. We were worried you might not wake at all.”

Chi Yuan frowned at their words. “How long was I asleep? And... what about the girl I asked you to look after?”

“It’s been seven hours since we found you. When I awoke, Miss Xiaoyuan had not yet come to. It was then that I encountered Miss Ling Yan, who was searching for you both. Fearing you might be in danger, I went to the ancestral shrine to look for you and brought both young ladies here to settle for the time being.”

“So that’s how it was. Thank you, madam.”

“There’s no need for such courtesy, young hero. If not for you, I fear none of the people in this ancient city would have survived. And thanks to Miss Ling Yan’s help, the seventeen wronged souls of my Ji family could finally be laid to rest. There is precious little help left in this house, after all.” At this, the old woman’s eyes dimmed with sorrow.

Ling Yan tapped her chin thoughtfully. “So, that means only Sun Lang remains unaccounted for. That fool is probably still lying unconscious somewhere.”

“He’s already gone,” Chi Yuan replied, recounting all that had transpired. When he finished, he asked, “By the way, was it you who tended my wounds?”

“Your wounds? When we found you, there was barely a scratch on you.”

“Then it must have been Sun Lang,” Chi Yuan mused. “He kept some things from us, but I don’t believe he meant any harm.”

Ling Yan huffed in discontent. “That fellow took the sword and fled—he’s no good at all, yet you still speak on his behalf?”

Chi Yuan shook his head. “Perhaps so, but without him, I could not have slain the Butterfly Demon alone, nor could the townsfolk have been saved.”

Chi Yuan’s expression grew solemn. “Ling Yan, I must apologize. Because of my decision, we all fell into grave danger—I dragged you into this.”

Ling Yan replied with a gentle smile, “It’s alright, isn’t it? We’re all safe now.”

Relieved, Chi Yuan asked, “Where is Xiaoyuan?”

“She’s in that room over there. She’s awake, but seems to have something on her mind and hasn’t come out.”

Chi Yuan recalled the sense of helplessness and despair he had felt from her before. “I’ll go check on her.”

“Go ahead.”

Chi Yuan approached Xiaoyuan’s door and knocked lightly. “Xiaoyuan, it’s me—Chi Yuan.”

After a moment, a reply came from within. “Come in.” Her voice was calm and cold, lacking its usual vitality.

Chi Yuan entered to find Xiaoyuan sitting on the edge of the bed, her long hair falling loosely about her. Her eyes were tranquil, yet devoid of any spark of life. Though her spirit form was no longer as scattered as when unconscious, it lacked its former solidity.

Before he could speak, Xiaoyuan asked, “Where is Wuyá?”

Chi Yuan raised his right hand, and Wuyá transformed into a ray of golden light, appearing in his palm. Xiaoyuan immediately merged into the sword. “I’m a bit tired. Let me rest for a while.”

“What’s wrong?”

Xiaoyuan hesitated briefly. “Nothing.”

Chi Yuan could see she was troubled, but since she had no wish to speak, he let it be, though unease lingered in his heart. “As long as you’re alright.”

“The Nightmare Pearl is on the table. As for Butterfly’s Shadow, we can speak of it later.”

Of course—since Butterfly’s Shadow was also a divine sword, Xiaoyuan could naturally recognize the aura of the Nightmare Pearl taken from it.

Chi Yuan picked up the purple-black pearl from the table, turning it thoughtfully in his hand, his emotions conflicted.

“Madam, I am returning this to its rightful owner.” In the courtyard, Chi Yuan handed the Nightmare Pearl back to the old woman. “Thank you for your help earlier.”

The old woman gave a grandmotherly smile, stepping forward to close Chi Yuan’s outstretched hand around the pearl. “For generations, my Ji family has guarded Butterfly’s Shadow. Our ancestors can rest easy now. With the sword gone, this Nightmare Pearl is but a surplus trinket to me. You should keep it, young hero.”

“How could I—”

She simply smiled and shook her head, saying softly, “You are a cultivator. Perhaps one day, in your hands, the Nightmare Pearl may return to Butterfly’s Shadow. Do not refuse.”

Thus, Chi Yuan placed the pearl in his dimensional pouch and bowed to the old woman. “Thank you, elder. I will not fail your trust—I shall find Butterfly’s Shadow.”

With that, Chi Yuan returned to his room and closed the door gently behind him, a trace of warmth blooming in his heart.

He sat cross-legged on the bed and began to cultivate. The damage to his dantian made every channeling of energy exquisitely painful, yet he steeled himself, painstakingly repairing the meridians wounded by the overflow of true energy. After completing a full cycle with great difficulty, Chi Yuan exhaled heavily.

The visions from his dreams resurfaced, tightening his fists involuntarily.

Mount Shu... blackness...

It seemed there was indeed reason enough to journey to the uttermost north.