The Flesh Tumor

Li Tui leaned on his saber and took a few breaths, then gritted his teeth and straightened up.

His back hurt as if it were about to snap. Several gashes in his left arm were deep enough to expose bone, and blood kept seeping out.

He tore off the hem of his robe, pulled out some hemostatic powder, and scattered it haphazardly over the wounds before binding them tightly with strips of cloth. His movements were so quick, you'd never think he was bandaging his own flesh.

The bleeding eased a little. He looked at the demon's corpse on the ground.

Under the moonlight, the thing lay sprawled in a pool of blood, its belly split open, entrails strewn everywhere. Nestled against its breastbone amid the rotting flesh was a dark red lump, pulsing faintly, again and again.

Li Tui limped over, dragging his injured leg, and stared at the lump for two seconds.

He reached out, then paused with his hand hovering above it. He could feel a faint warmth, mixed with the stench of blood and something else.

He couldn't carry the whole corpse away, but this thing...

With a flick of his short blade, he precisely cut through the membrane connecting the lump. It dropped into his palm, soft and springy, truly like a little heart.

Without hesitation, he pulled a coarse cloth pouch from his robes and stuffed the lump inside. Then he grabbed a handful of wet mud mixed with demon blood from the ground and smeared it thickly over the pouch. The stench of mud immediately covered everything else.

He tucked the pouch close to his body. A wave of warmth spread across his chest, and the pain in his back actually eased a little.

As expected, it was no ordinary thing.

He glanced at the demon's corpse. He couldn't carry it away, and he had no time to take it apart. His blade flashed, severing one foreleg. Black and razor-sharp, it would serve as proof.

As for the rest of the corpse, he staggered to a nearby patch of wild thistles, hastily pulled up a few handfuls to cover it, then dragged over some dead vines to hide it.

Without wasting more time, he picked up his saber and dragged himself toward Zhao Mansion, one step at a time.

He didn't know how long it took to cover the five li. Every step felt as if a knife were scraping across his back. The wound in his left arm had stopped bleeding, but the pain of torn flesh hadn't eased at all.

By the time the sky began to pale, he finally saw the walls of Zhao Mansion.

The side gate was still shut. Li Tui went up and knocked, but the sound of his hand against the wood was too faint to hear clearly.

The gate opened a crack, and the night-watch servant poked his head out. Seeing Li Tui covered in blood, he jumped in fright. "W-Wang Yuan? What happened to you...?"

"West Suburbs... The job's done." Li Tui's voice was hoarse. "Report to the young master."

The servant hurried off in a panic.

Li Tui leaned against the doorframe and closed his eyes, catching his breath. The morning wind cut through him like ice, and the wounds stung even more sharply. He could feel himself getting dizzy as his vision darkened in waves.

About half an incense stick later, footsteps approached.

It was Zhao Minglai. He wore indigo training clothes, sweat beading on his forehead. When he saw Li Tui in this state, he paused, his brows knitting slightly.

Li Tui forced himself to stand straight. He held his left hand over his ribs and pulled a bloodstained cloth bundle from his robes with his right, handing it over. The bundle wasn't tied tightly, and the black tip of a demon's claw poked out.

Zhao Minglai took it and lifted the edge of the cloth with his fingertips for a glance. "Earth Lizard Demon." His voice held no inflection. His gaze shifted from the claw tip to Li Tui's deathly pale face, lingered for a moment, then moved away. "You're badly hurt."

"I can still manage," Li Tui rasped.

"Keep that safe." Zhao Minglai handed the bundle back and glanced over his blood-soaked clothes. "Clean yourself up before you report in." He paused, and something else crept into his tone. "You got your life back. Now keep your mouth shut. Think carefully about what should be said and what needs to rot in your gut."

Then he turned and left without another glance.

Li Tui stood where he was. Only after Zhao Minglai's figure vanished around the corridor corner did he lower his eyes.

Supporting himself on the pillars, he made his way back to the West Courtyard side room. Inside, it was dark. He didn't light a lamp, but sat on the edge of the bed in the dim light filtering through the window paper.

He tended to the obvious wounds. He tore away the clothes stuck to his blood, cleaned the cuts, applied medicine, and bandaged them again. His face remained expressionless.

Zhao Minglai's attitude came as no surprise. In this place, Li Tui's life was nothing but expendable material. If he'd made it back alive, it was because they thought he still had some use—or couldn't be bothered to care.

Once he'd finished bandaging himself, he rolled up the bloodstained rags and stuffed them into a corner. Then he took out the bundle containing the demon's claw and tied it tightly again.

His wounds still hurt, but the deliberate weakness he'd shown on his face was gone.

He got up and headed toward the main house.

As he passed an empty corner of the corridor, his steps faltered almost imperceptibly.

Li Tui's left hand naturally pressed against his chest. The coarse cloth pouch was tucked against his undershirt. The mud smeared over it had half-dried, and all he could feel was the hard, cold lump of it.

The flesh tumor was safely hidden inside. It shouldn't have been discovered.