"Worship your own bodhisattva?..."
Commander Chen's final words struck Wang Quan's ears like a red-hot iron nail, hammering deeply and stirring a sharp resonance in his chaotic mind that burned his very soul in a tremble. Yet this lord will not bow to clay and wood, nor kneel to gods and buddhas across the heavens! He roared silently in his heart, a surge of Blood Qi mixed with grief and tyranny rushing straight to his crown. The unbent bones in this body of mine and the grievance I have yet to swallow are the greatest deities this lord possesses!
Since the world forced men to become ghosts and the path ahead was pitch-black with only oneself to feel the way, since neither living on his knees nor dying on his feet was what he wanted... then he would use the blade in his hand, strike by strike, to carve out a Blood Path! Devil take whatever monsters and demons lay ahead, or these man-eating rules that left not even bones behind!
"Master Wei," Wang Quan's voice was hoarse and dry, breaking the silence and interrupting Wei Dayong's trance of falling into some memory, "I want to... learn some real things. Cultivation methods, Martial Skills, anything is fine. The next time I run into something like that damned Pig Demon, I can't... rely on risking my life and luck every single time." He spoke with difficulty, every word squeezed as though from his injured lungs, yet his gaze remained fixed dead ahead on the void, holding a kind of paranoid, unyielding determination.
Wei Dayong did not answer immediately, seeming almost out of the strength even to speak. He merely tilted his head slightly, using those exhausted yet still sharp eyes to give Wang Quan a deep look. That gaze was complex and hard to fathom, holding scrutiny, appraisal, and perhaps a trace of something exceedingly faint and indescribable.
"Cultivation methods..." Wei Dayong's voice was barely audible, his breath short. "Commander Chen might have... the most basic ones there. But the things that can truly transform you and let you step through the gates of cultivation... are all hidden away in the Great Sects, the Imperial Armory, and the secret troves of those Great Families. We... don't deserve them." He paused, coughed twice, and fresh blood seeped from the corner of his mouth once more. "However... if you want to look, once we collect the medicine in a moment, I will... take you to the library. There are some tattered things there... cough, cough... perhaps they'll be of some use."
Wang Quan's heart sank, but immediately a more stubborn drive surged up in its place. Not deserve it? Then fight until I do! We don't have it? Then go snatch it! Go seize it! This thought flared up fiercely like a wildfire in some dark corner of his heart, burning him all over.
The two men spoke no more, merely supporting each other as they trudged through the cold, morning-fog-drenched courtyard, stepping heavily toward a low building exuding a rich, bitter scent—the infirmary of the garrison.
The infirmary door was half-open, the light within dim, mingling the smells of herbs, mildew, and another indescribable, gamey stench resembling a beast's lair. A hunched figure was busy among piles of jars and pots, turning sharply upon hearing movement.
It was an old man with messy, greying hair and wrinkles deep enough to crush a fly, yet his pair of eyes were frighteningly bright, flashing an abnormal light in the gloom as they darted around, appraising the two incoming men. Most striking was his left arm—it decidedly did not belong to a human! The forearm was covered in a layer of deep cyan, rough as rock scales, with thick-jointed fingers tipped in curved, sharp black talons, hanging quietly at his side to form a bizarre and horrifying contrast with his other withered, chicken-claw-like human hand.
Wang Quan's pupils contracted sharply, his gaze drawn as though by a magnet, nailing itself dead onto that monstrous arm. A Demon Race arm? Growing alive on a human body?
"Hehehe..." Noticing Wang Quan's gaze, the old man not only failed to hide it, but instead split his mouth in a grin, revealing a row of missing, yellow-black teeth. His laughter was hoarse and grating, carrying a mad sort of triumph. He even lifted that scaled arm as if showing it off, spreading and clenching the five fingers to produce a teeth-setting sound akin to grinding bone mixed with the scraping of hard objects. "What? New chicks, never seen the world?" He stepped two paces closer, the gamey stench growing even heavier, madness and an extremely unsettling excitement flickering in his turbid eyes. "Look good? To tell you the truth, this thing is much easier to use than the original! Strong, tough, regular swords and sabers leave nothing more than a white mark when they hack into it! Do you want to... try it too? Find a suitable demon, chop it off, and graft it on! Guaranteed to make you feel incredible! Hehehe..."
"Madman Xu!" Wei Dayong coughed fiercely, cutting off the old man's increasingly outrageous words. Although weak, his voice carried unquestionable severity. "Put away that crooked nonsense of yours! He won't do it, and don't you dare set your sights on him!"
The old man called Madman Xu curled his lips as if somewhat disappointed, but those brightly roving eyes still rolled around Wang Quan a few times, lingering particularly on his right hand gripping the saber and the un-dried bloodstains on his face, while muttering, "Pity... good material, heavy killing intent. Graft something fierce on, and maybe..."
"We are here to collect medicine!" Wei Dayong increased his volume, though his body swayed uncontrollably, prompting Wang Quan to quickly steady him with force. "Trauma Medicine, Bone-Setting Paste, give us what we need for our injuries. Hurry!"
"Tsk, what's the rush? It's not like you're dying." Madman Xu rolled his eyes, yet turned with unexpected agility. That monstrous hand rapidly rummaged among the mountain-like piles of jars and drawer jars, accurately pulling out several distinct porcelain vials and small packets, tossing them casually onto the filthy counter. "Here, for external and internal use. The Bone-Setting Paste is only this much, use it sparingly, save it for setting bones and don't waste it. Water's over there, sort it out yourselves." He pointed to a large, grime-covered water vat in the corner.
Wei Dayong motioned for Wang Quan to fetch the medicine. Wang Quan released his grip, stepped forward, and gathered the medicine bottles and small packets together. Passing close by Madman Xu, that strange, mixed scent of herbs and fierce beasts grew even more intense, and the scaled arm within arm's reach possessed an even stronger visual impact. He could even see dark red stains lingering in the crevices of the scales, uncertain whether they were medicinal juice or... something else.
"Kid," just as Wang Quan picked up the medicine and turned to support Wei Dayong, Madman Xu suddenly lowered his voice again, speaking in a near-whisper imbued with a bewitching tone as his turbid pupils locked onto him, "don't listen to that fellow Wei. What of humans? What of demons? If it's useful and keeps you alive, it's good stuff! In this world, if you don't grow strong yourself, are you waiting for someone else to save you? Keep dreaming! If you want to live, if you want to live like a human... sometimes, you just can't be too human. Hehehe..." He finished, and without waiting for Wang Quan to react, hummed a discordant little tune and turned back to fussing with his jars and pots.
Wang Quan's body stiffened slightly, and without looking back, he silently tucked the medicine into his tunic, then walked back to re-brace Wei Dayong, who was barely able to stand.
"What... is he?" Wang Quan asked in a low voice only after they stepped out of the infirmary.
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