As Xiao Yan began helping Xiao Yi tend to the children's injuries, the appalling wounds made his heart clench again. Some children's arms were twisted at grotesque angles, clearly broken by force and then carelessly set; some had toes blackened by frostbite, their skin split open to expose stark white bone; and broad patches of bruises and overlapping old and fresh whip marks were branded into their tender skin.
Every wound silently condemned the cruelty of their tormentors. How could anyone be this evil? How could they brutalize children this young? What kind of hell had they endured? A mixture of anger and helplessness surged through him. He carefully applied medicinal powder to a little girl's swollen, ulcerated ankle. She gasped in pain, yet bit her lip bravely rather than cry aloud. Xiao Yan felt as though something had seized his heart, leaving it aching and raw.
But what good would healing their injuries do? There are so many children. Where are their parents? Who will look after them from now on? Will they stay with the Xiao Clan? Judging by these wounds, some might be left disabled. How could the clan spare the resources and energy to support people with disabilities? Let them keep wandering the streets? How would that be any different from killing them? Thinking of that heavy future, Xiao Yan felt as though a mountain were pressing down on his chest, making it impossible to breathe. He even felt a faint urge to flee-to escape this responsibility, this trouble.
Xiao Yi was concentrating on wrapping a boy's arm in bandages. At those words, he raised his head and glanced at Xiao Yan's slightly pale face and the struggle in his eyes. He sighed softly, but his voice remained calm.
"Why think so much? If you want to do something and you can do it, then do it. As for what will happen tomorrow or next year, those things haven't happened yet. You could rack your brains to pieces and it still wouldn't help. Don't let illusions of the future crush who you are now, and don't let shadows of the past trip up the steps you're taking today."
He pointed at the two older children helping pass them bandages. "Look. At least right now, we can ease their pain a little. We can let them know that not everyone in this world is bad."
Xiao Yan fell silent. Those words seemed to make sense: focus on the present and do what lay within his power. But the doubts in his heart had not entirely faded.
At last, ointment was carefully applied to the wound on the final child's forehead, and a small spoonful of dark brown medicine was gently fed into the child's mouth. Xiao Yan let out a long breath and wiped the fine sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. The children lay scattered across makeshift beds of soft, dry grass, breathing steadily, their little faces faintly flushed from the medicine. The heavy stone in his heart seemed to give way to an indefinable emotion-a blend of exhaustion at having accomplished something significant and an indescribable sense of satisfaction.
He stood and stretched his somewhat stiff back and waist. His gaze swept over the wounds, large and small, once more, and his brows unconsciously drew together again. With Yao Lao's help, these external injuries would likely pose no serious problem, but their subsequent recovery and the children's future livelihoods still weighed on his heart like a cloud of fog.
Just then, Yao Lao, who had been sitting cross-legged beside the pill furnace with his eyes closed, regulating his breathing, slowly opened his eyes. He glanced at the worried Xiao Yan, his clouded eyes shifting before a knowing smile appeared at the corner of his mouth.
"What? Still fretting over those bits of yellow and white metal? You're only short of money, aren't you? Hmph. Back when I roamed the continent unhindered, what rare treasures hadn't I seen? What did a few mere gold coins amount to?"
He extended a thin, withered finger and tapped the pill furnace beside him. "With me here, why worry about money? In a little while, I'll open you two youngsters' eyes and show you how a top-tier alchemist rakes in a bushel of gold every day."
Xiao Yi raised an eyebrow at that, the corners of his mouth curving upward in their habitual smile. "Oh? From the sound of it, Elder Yao intends to take the stage himself and demonstrate how to snare a white wolf empty-handed... ah, no, I mean his special trick of refining golden pills empty-handed."
Yao Lao stroked his beard. Looking at Xiao Yan's still-worried face and Xiao Yi's expression beside him, as though he feared the world wasn't chaotic enough, he smiled faintly. His voice carried undisguised pride and confidence.
"If I say I can earn money, then naturally I have my ways. However, refining medicine consumes quite a bit of dou qi. When the time comes, you two little fellows will have to supply me with enough 'fuel.'"
The moment Xiao Yan heard the words "supply dou qi," his face fell. He waved his hands repeatedly, shaking his head like a rattle drum.
"No, no, no! Please spare me! Do you know how much humiliation I endured during those days without dou qi? I still haven't recovered from it. I don't want to experience those days a second time!"
Seeing how desperately Xiao Yan wanted to avoid it, Yao Lao did not tease him as he usually would. Instead, his expression grew slightly solemn, and a complicated gleam passed through his aged eyes. "Hmph. What do you know, brat? When I absorbed your dou qi, it might have looked as though I was taking from you, but in truth... it was for your own good, too."
He paused, his voice deepening. "Little fellow, there are some things I hadn't intended to tell you so soon, for fear of disturbing your state of mind. But now it seems I have no choice. That soul of yours... hmm, to use your own term, that 'Transmigrator' soul, is far too powerful. But your current body has poor aptitude and a weak bloodline. It can't quite keep pace with the strength of your soul. Your earlier cultivation, which seemed to be sailing along so smoothly, had actually already inflicted some hidden damage on this still-immature body of yours."
Yao Lao's words struck like thunder out of a clear sky. Xiao Yan's eyes widened instantly, some of the color draining from his face, replaced by incredulous fear. He instinctively touched his chest, his voice beginning to tremble.
"Wh-what? Yao Lao, you mean... my body... is injured? Can... can it be healed? Is it serious?" At the thought that cultivating too quickly might have left him with some irreversible aftereffect, Xiao Yan's heart sank, and a chill shot from the soles of his feet to the crown of his head.
Watching Xiao Yan's panic-stricken expression, a hint of amusement flickered through Yao Lao's eyes. Still, he kept a stern face and spoke as evenly as he could.
"What are you panicking for? The sky hasn't fallen yet! There is damage, of course, but it hasn't reached the point of being irreversible. The main issue is that you're too young. The bones and meridians in this body of yours haven't fully developed yet, so it would be inappropriate to force repairs with medicines as fierce as tigers and wolves. In my view, the best approach is to keep your cultivation at around the third stage of dou qi for the time being. Give your body enough time to recover slowly through its own vitality and restore its own balance. Only then can you strengthen your roots and nourish your vital essence, laying a firmer foundation for your future cultivation."
Before you continue