Post-Battle Healing, Old Wu Tou Shows His Skill

The iron rebar was stuck in the muddy ground, its tip still trembling slightly. Chen Wuya stared at the faint tremor, his fingertips unconsciously curling.

Old Wu Tou was bent over, bandaging his right arm. His movements were steady as he wrapped the cloth strips around Chen Wuya's forearm, covering the long, diagonal gash. The blood had already dried, leaving the edges a dark, bluish-black, as if an internal injury had been exposed by some powerful force.

"Your meridians are like a twisted rope," the old man said in a low voice, pressing his fingertips into a hollow behind Chen Wuya's shoulder. "You took a heavy blow here too. The bone isn't cracked, but your Blood Essence is blocked. If we leave it another two hours, your whole arm will stiffen up."

Chen Wuya remained silent, slowly drawing a breath. The battle just now had been draining. The misaligned energy had surged against his meridians, and although it had helped him defeat the enemy, the backlash had come quickly. Now, his ribs felt like they were stuffed with a red-hot iron plate, each breath accompanied by a dull, painful ache.

Old Wu Tou took a small porcelain bottle from his medicine box, pulled out the stopper, and poured out a dark red pill, holding it to Chen Wuya's lips.

"Swallow it. Don't ask what it is."

Chen Wuya glanced at him, took the pill, and swallowed it directly. Bitterness exploded at the root of his tongue, followed by a warm current that slid down his throat, slowly seeping into his limbs and bones.

"You understand this stuff?" his voice was hoarse.

"I've lived a long time and seen a lot," Old Wu Tou replied without looking up, continuing to wipe the bruises on Chen Wuya's shoulder with cotton dipped in medicinal water. "When I was an escort, I saw many people whose cultivation went awry, and some who crippled themselves fighting to the bitter end. Your path is strange; your energy doesn't follow the usual routes, yet you can still gain momentum—those last few moves, you didn't win with brute force, did you?"

Chen Wuya's lips twitched. "They attacked with their full strength; I reversed their momentum. The harder they pushed, the harder they were repelled."

"Which is why you injured yourself," Old Wu Tou scoffed. "Do you think outsiders couldn't see you were pushing yourself too hard? The moment your sword broke, your knees were shaking."

Chen Wuya didn't deny it. He knew he couldn't hide anything from this old man. From the moment he first saw him, he didn't seem like an ordinary refugee. His footwork was steady, his gaze clear, and his words carried the seasoned experience of someone who had weathered many storms.

Old Wu Tou put away the medicine bottle and took out a copper needle. He heated it over a flame and quickly inserted it into Chen Wuya's shoulder well. A wave of numbness shot up his meridians, and Chen Wuya grunted, sweat beading on his forehead.

"Bear with it," the old man said, lightly twisting his fingers. "We need to draw out the blocked energy, or you won't sleep soundly tonight."

The copper needle vibrated slightly, as if sensing a hidden fluctuation within his body. After a moment, Old Wu Tou withdrew the needle and nodded. "It's clear. Don't forcefully reverse your true energy for the next three days, or your meridians will develop cracks, and even lifting a hand to pour water will hurt in the future."

Chen Wuya tried moving his shoulder; it felt much easier. He looked down at his bandaged arm and suddenly asked, "How do you think... they'll talk about this battle?"

Old Wu Tou paused while tidying his medicine box.

"The Jianghu won't say you won; they'll say you used dark arts," he said, closing the box lid in a flat tone. "Some will say you used talismans to control weapons, others that the Demonic Cult taught you. Those broken swords and scattered blades will all become evidence of 'sorcery'."

Chen Wuya chuckled. "Let them talk. As long as the logic makes sense, who cares if it's crooked logic?"

"But you need to think clearly," Old Wu Tou said, looking up at him. "You're not carrying this burden alone anymore. The people in the camp believe you're protecting them, but if the rumors change, and they say you're the source of trouble, will they still stand by you?"

Chen Wuya didn't answer. He knew there was no answer to that question.

A few barks echoed in the distance. The night wind, carrying ashes, swept across the open space. The scattered pieces of metal from the day's fierce battle still lay on the ground, some twisted like pretzels, others snapped cleanly in the middle with edges too smooth to be man-made.

Old Wu Tou stood up, leaning on his cane, his gaze sweeping in the direction of the official road.

"You can still feel it?" he suddenly asked.

Chen Wuya nodded. "The iron rebar is vibrating. It's not the wind, and it's not animals running."

"The footsteps are too uniform," the old man's voice dropped. "More than a troop, walking without haste, but not stopping."

Chen Wuya reached out and gripped the iron rebar, pulling it up gently. The moment the rebar left the ground, the vibration became clearer—like pulses from deep within the earth, rhythmic and heavy.

"They're not scattered soldiers," he said. "It's a trained unit. Possibly carrying heavy armor."

Old Wu Tou was silent for a moment, then turned and retrieved an old leather waterskin from in front of his own hut, handing it to Chen Wuya. "Drink some water to suppress the medicine's effects. You've just experienced a shock; don't let your mind wander."

Chen Wuya took the waterskin and tilted it back, taking a few sips. The water was slightly cool, with a faint, astringent taste of herbs.

"Have you encountered something like this before?" he asked.

"Thirty years ago, the night the Northern Border was breached," Old Wu Tou said, gazing into the distance. "There was a similar vibration. First, the ground felt numb, then the sky lit up with fire. By the time we realized, the village was already half burned."

Chen Wuya tightened his grip on the waterskin.

"What did you do then?"

"Those who survived could only move forward," Old Wu Tou said very softly. "Whether seeking revenge or fleeing, you have to choose a path and keep going."

The lights in the camp were dwindling, with only a few sentry posts still showing oil lamps. The young men were cleaning up the battlefield with a few strong men, piling the broken blades into iron buckets to be smelted and reforged tomorrow. The women quietly collected their bamboo spears and cooking utensils. No one spoke, but no one complained either.

The battle had been strange, but the outcome was real.

Chen Wuya sat down against the south wall, the iron rebar resting across his knees. The medicine's effects were gradually spreading, and the burning pain in his body began to subside, but his mind became clearer and clearer.

"You shouldn't know so much," he suddenly said.

Old Wu Tou looked back at him.

"Not just medical skills," Chen Wuya continued, staring at him. "You know that the backlash from misaligned energy can damage the meridians, that blocked meridians need energy to be cleared, and you even recognized that I used unconventional methods to channel my strength—these aren't things an ordinary escort would know."

Old Wu Tou didn't avoid his gaze.

"When I was an escort, I protected a doctor's entire family," he said slowly. "Before he died, he passed on his skills to me, saying, 'Saving people is harder than killing them.' I couldn't remember all the names, so I picked up a few practical techniques."

Chen Wuya stared at him for a long time, then finally said nothing more.

He knew the answer wasn't quite right, but he also knew this wasn't the time to press for details.

The vibration in the distance continued, steady in frequency, but shortening in distance.

Old Wu Tou walked over and sat beside him, his cane tapping lightly on the ground, as if measuring the rhythm.

"They won't attack the camp in the middle of the night," the old man said in a low voice. "Regular troops operate according to the clock. They usually attack around the hour of Mao (5-7 AM), when people have just woken up and are not yet settled."

"So we still have a few hours."

"Enough time for you to get some sleep, and for me to give you another acupuncture treatment."

Chen Wuya shook his head. "I'm not tired."

"Then just sit," Old Wu Tou didn't try to persuade him further. "But remember, when they arrive, don't rush out alone. I fear they aren't here for the bounty this time."

Chen Wuya looked at the iron rebar on his lap, then suddenly reached out and brushed its surface. A very fine crack was hidden within the metal's grain, impossible to find without careful inspection.

In the battle just now, even the weapon couldn't withstand the misaligned energy's recoil.

He gently traced the crack, remaining silent.

Old Wu Tou stood up and patted the dust off his knees. "I'll go check if the woodpile on the west side is moved properly. The wind direction has changed, and if a fire starts, we can't let it spread into the camp."

Chen Wuya nodded.

The old man leaned on his cane and walked towards a corner of the camp. His back was hunched, but his steps were surprisingly steady.

Chen Wuya sat alone at the base of the wall, his fingers still resting on the iron rebar.

A tremor came again.

This time, he clearly saw the tip of the rebar twitch slightly.