Chapter Seven: The Second Heaven

The next morning, just as the first light crept across the sky and before the sun had risen, the group was already packed and ready to depart.

Shi Yan mingled quietly among the medicine slaves, his expression calm and untroubled, following the team in silence. Johnson, who had been waiting to catch him in a moment of weakness, was startled to find him composed once again.

In recent days, every medicine slave who had drunk the Heartbreak Powder would wake after a night pale as a ghost, their bodies weak and frail. The ones with poor constitutions could not even walk, and even the strong ones would show pain and fear on their faces.

Yet Shi Yan walked with a steady gait, his complexion ruddy, displaying no signs of injury or distress. This filled Johnson with suspicion.

Johnson observed for a while, and, seeing that Shi Yan was truly unaffected, he frowned and went to report the situation to Mo Yanyu and Kalu at the head of the group.

“Leave him be,” Kalu said with a calm, seasoned air. “Since the boy is a martial artist, he won’t show symptoms so easily. When his internal energy is exhausted, he’ll be just like the others. I know the potency of Heartbreak Powder well.”

“Mm, just keep a close eye on him,” Mo Yanyu instructed coolly.

Seeing their confidence, Johnson said no more and returned dutifully to the rear of the group, never taking his eyes off Shi Yan, wary of any unusual movements.

“Master, how long do you think before he’s writhing in pain?” After Johnson left, Mo Yanyu hesitated, then asked Kalu. She wished nothing more than to see Shi Yan rolling on the ground in agony—it was the only thing that would satisfy her.

“Don’t worry. It should happen by tonight.”

***

Daylight slipped by, and soon the moon hung quietly in the night sky.

Once the group had settled, Kalu and Mo Yanyu once again approached Shi Yan. From a distance, they saw him seated on the ground, eating heartily and seemingly oblivious to the poor quality of his food.

“Master, he doesn’t look…” Mo Yanyu trailed off, finding Shi Yan’s eating habits ungraceful, but there was nothing about him that suggested he was suffering.

Kalu’s face darkened slowly. He gave a cold snort. “Are you doubting my skills as an alchemist?”

“I wouldn’t dare,” Mo Yanyu quickly shook her head. “Your Heartbreak Powder has proven its effects on the other slaves. I’m just puzzled… Why is he unharmed? Did you perhaps forget an ingredient in the last batch?”

“Miss Mo, I may not be the most exalted alchemist, but I wouldn’t make such a mistake.” Kalu’s displeasure was clear as he scowled. “If you don’t trust my abilities, we can part ways right now.”

“Please, master, don’t be angry. I didn’t mean it that way. I just find it strange, that’s all. Please, don’t misunderstand…” Mo Yanyu forced a smile.

“Hmph!” Kalu ignored her, his figure flashing like lightning as he swiftly approached Shi Yan.

Shi Yan kept his head down, pretending not to notice, though he was secretly impressed by Kalu’s speed and glad he hadn’t acted rashly the day before. Otherwise, he would have been overwhelmed by Kalu without a doubt.

For Kalu was not only an alchemist, but also a martial artist who had stepped into the Innate Realm, while Shi Yan himself had only just learned to manipulate his internal energy—the second level of the Postnatal Realm. The gulf between them was vast; to fight would be a death sentence.

With a strange whistling sound, Kalu appeared before him in a blink.

Shi Yan calmly put down his food and looked up.

Kalu’s gaunt face was cold and sinister as he reached out lightning-fast, gripping Shi Yan’s left arm. His dry fingers pressed against Shi Yan’s skin, and a stream of pure energy surged into his arm, coursing along his meridians, winding through his body, circling his stomach and intestines before returning to Kalu’s fingers and vanishing.

Kalu’s energy was powerful and refined. As it traveled through Shi Yan’s meridians, he felt a faint ache from the swelling.

“Hm…” Kalu muttered, perplexed. “Strange—the Heartbreak Powder is still present, yet he has energy to spare, and his organs are unscathed. He’s just a low-level martial artist; his energy shouldn’t be that pure, nor should it last this long…”

Shi Yan let him examine his arm without resistance.

“Well, master?” Mo Yanyu asked, coming over.

“We’ll wait another day,” Kalu replied, his face dark. He couldn’t make sense of it, and never considered the possibility of a Martial Spirit—after all, Martial Spirits were not something ordinary warriors possessed, nor had he ever heard of one that could heal the body.

Mo Yanyu nodded, full of doubt but unwilling to say more. She gave Shi Yan a strange, lingering glance, wondering what venomous schemes she might try next.

The following night, Kalu and Mo Yanyu returned to check Shi Yan’s condition. His organs were still unharmed, and Kalu’s scowl deepened. He said they would wait yet another day.

On the third night, they came again. Kalu found nothing new.

On the fourth night, Kalu approached once more. This time, he carried two bowls of freshly prepared Heartbreak Powder. Summoning Johnson, he had him bring a medicine slave named Guro, and made both Shi Yan and Guro drink the new concoction together.

Shi Yan cooperated fully, drinking the powder without protest.

“These two bowls were made in the same batch,” Kalu said coldly, only after Shi Yan had finished.

Mo Yanyu nodded. “If Guro’s organs rot, it proves your medicine is fine and this man’s body is unusual. I understand your meaning, master.”

“Exactly. Tomorrow, at this time, we’ll compare the results and know for sure.”

***

That night, Shi Yan sat on the ground, his expression grave as he slowly circulated his energy.

That single thread of energy stretched through his primary meridians, agile and responsive to his will, flowing from one meridian to another like a clever serpent. With focus, he guided the energy to his right index finger, then gradually withdrew it back up his arm, suddenly accelerating it toward the fingertip.

A strange sound issued from his finger, and a sharp pain followed as all his energy surged into the tip. His index finger trembled violently, like a rattlesnake’s tail.

The energy gathered, clashing against the barrier of skin and flesh at his fingertip. No matter how he tried, the energy could not break through; it remained trapped within.

Letting out a long breath, Shi Yan withdrew his energy to his lower abdomen and muttered almost inaudibly, “Still not enough…”

The Postnatal Realm had three levels: the first was forming internal energy, the second was mastering its flow, and the third was expelling it from the body.

Shi Yan could guide his energy at will—he was at the second level. For days he had trained to gather more energy, attempting to break through to the third level by forcing it from his fingertip. Each time, the barrier of skin and flesh proved too much.

“It seems the path of cultivation is not so easily rushed; my energy simply isn’t strong enough. Only once it’s been further refined will I have a chance.”

He sighed, knowing his peril had made him impatient.

He also knew that come tomorrow, his body would remain unaffected by the Heartbreak Powder, but Guro would surely suffer, his organs rotting, perhaps even spreading to his vital parts.

Once Kalu compared the two, he would realize the medicine was not at fault, and then the truth of Shi Yan’s unique body would come to light, bringing new trouble. His days of peace would truly be over; Mo Yanyu might even kill him on the spot to eliminate any potential threat.

It was also possible that by morning, Guro would already show signs of poisoning, and then Shi Yan’s fate would be sealed. With all the warriors vigilant and no longer absorbed in their own cultivation, he would have no chance.

Gazing up at the myriad stars, Shi Yan’s expression hardened. He knew if he wished to survive, tonight was the only chance to act.

…