Fleshy Tumor

Li Tui leaned on his blade and gasped for air, gritting his teeth as he forced himself upright.

His back felt as if it were about to snap, and several gashes on his left arm were deep enough to reveal bone, blood seeping out incessantly.

He tore off his hem, pulled out some styptic powder to sprinkle on haphazardly, and bound it tight with a strip of cloth. His movements were so swift it didn't look like he was bandaging his own flesh.

The bleeding slowed slightly. He looked at the demon corpse on the ground.

Under the moonlight, the thing lay sprawled in a pool of blood, its belly ripped open with entrails spilled everywhere. Tucked against the sternum amidst the rotting flesh was a dark red tumor, pulsing faintly, beat by beat.

Li Tui dragged his injured leg over and stared at the tumor for two seconds.

He reached out, his hand hovering over the growth. He could feel a faint, warm heat, mixed with the stench of blood and something else entirely.

He couldn't take the whole carcass, but this thing...

With a flick of his short blade, he precisely severed the fascia connecting the tumor. The growth landed in his palm, warm, soft, and slightly elastic—it really felt like a tiny heart.

Without hesitation, he pulled a coarse cloth bag from his tunic, stuffed the tumor inside, and grabbed a handful of wet mud mixed with demon blood from the ground, smearing it thickly over the outside of the bag. The earthy stench instantly masked everything else.

He tucked the bag close to his chest. A wave of warmth radiated from his breast, and the pain in his back actually eased a little.

It was truly extraordinary.

He glanced at the demon corpse. He couldn't take it, and there was no time to dismantle it. With a flash of his blade, he hacked off a foreclaw; it was pitch-black and sharp, enough to serve as proof.

As for the remaining carcass, he stumbled over to a nearby thicket of wild thistles, pulling handfuls of them over it, then dragging some withered vines to cover the rest.

No longer delaying, he picked up his blade and dragged his body, step by step, toward Zhao Mansion.

The five-mile journey felt like it took forever. Every step felt like a knife scraping against his back. Although the bleeding on his left arm had stopped, the pain of the torn flesh remained undiminished.

When the horizon began to pale, he finally saw the walls of Zhao Mansion.

The side gate was still closed. Li Tui went up to knock, but his hand struck the wood with a sound so weak it was barely audible.

The door opened a crack, and the night watchman poked his head out. Seeing him covered in blood, the man jumped in fright: "W-Wang Yuan? What happened to you..."

"The West Suburbs... the errand is done." Li Tui's voice was deathly hoarse. "Report to the Young Master."

The servant ran off in a panic.

Li Tui leaned against the doorframe, closing his eyes to catch his breath. The morning breeze felt bone-chilling against his skin, and the wind hitting his wounds made the pain even sharper. He could feel himself fainting, his vision blacking out in waves.

After about half an incense stick of time, footsteps approached.

It was Zhao Minglai. He was dressed in indigo training robes, sweat on his forehead. Seeing Li Tui in this state, he paused, his brows knitting together.

Li Tui struggled to stand straight, clutching his side with his left hand while his right hand fished the blood-stained cloth bundle from his tunic and held it out. The bundle wasn't tied tightly, revealing the tip of a pitch-black demon claw.

Zhao Minglai took it, flicking the corner of the cloth open to glance inside. "Earth Lizard Demon." His voice was devoid of inflection. His gaze shifted from the claw tip to Li Tui's pale face, lingering for a moment before moving away. "You're heavily wounded."

"I can still hold on," Li Tui rasped.

"Keep the item safe." Zhao Minglai handed the bundle back, his eyes sweeping over his blood-soaked clothes. "Clean yourself up before you report back." He paused, his tone carrying a different implication: "Since you've brought your life back, keep your mouth shut. Weigh for yourself what should be said and what should rot in your gut."

With that, he turned and walked away without another look.

Li Tui stood where he was, waiting until that back disappeared around the corner of the corridor before lowering his eyes.

He leaned against a pillar and shuffled back to his quarters in the West Courtyard. Pushing the door open, the room was dark. He didn't light a lamp, sitting on the edge of the bed by the dim light filtering through the window paper.

He tended to his visible wounds. He tore away the clothes stuck to his blood, cleaned the gashes, applied medicine, and re-bandaged them. His face remained expressionless.

He wasn't the least bit surprised by Zhao Minglai's attitude. In this place, his life was merely a consumable. That he had returned alive meant they still found him somewhat useful, or perhaps they just couldn't be bothered to care.

After bandaging, he rolled up the blood-stained rags and stuffed them into a corner. He took the cloth bundle containing the demon claw from his tunic and tied it tight again.

The pain remained, but the feigned weakness he had intentionally displayed was gone from his face.

He rose and headed toward the main house.

Passing an empty corner of the corridor, his footsteps faltered imperceptibly.

Li Tui pressed his left hand naturally against his chest. The coarse cloth bag was pressed against his inner garment; the mud smeared on the outside was half-dry, feeling only like the hardness and coldness of a clod of earth.

The tumor was hidden safely inside, and it should not have been discovered.