Food Immortal Master, Section 45

He smiled and nodded. "Once this is over, I'll come back and train with everyone."

Master Huang said gravely, "Young Pei is going to the prefecture next month for the Golden Autumn Martial Contest. You should all learn from him."

Just then, the black cat emerged with a sheaf of papers in its mouth. Pei Ye took them, glanced down, and found that they were Master Huang's crookedly handwritten copy of the twentieth installment of Broken Chivalrous Bones.

"Master Huang, I'll have to take this with me." Pei Ye raised the papers toward him.

Master Huang strode over in two steps and pushed his hand down, his broad frame blocking the children's curious eyes. He declared loudly, "It's only a boxing manual. I've already taught you everything in it. Take it."

Pei Ye laughed and cupped his hands. "I'll come back in a few days to ask Master Huang for more instruction."

"What could I possibly teach you now? Get lost."

"Officers will come to deal with what's in the room." Smiling, Pei Ye clasped his wrist and murmured this reminder, then turned, gathered up the cat, and vaulted over the wall.

Master Huang paused, then turned and went into the room.

Everything was arranged just as before, except that the copied manuscript beneath the pillow had vanished.

Where's Zhengguang?

Suddenly, something black entered the bottom of his field of vision. He looked down. A human-shaped layer of ash lay silently on the floor, its embers still smoldering.

Meanwhile, Pei Ye had vaulted over the boundary wall, but the image of those dozen-odd vibrant faces gazing up at him still lingered in his mind. He patted the black cat and asked quietly, "Do you really think we have to stop Him, even if it means sacrificing all of Bowang Prefecture?"

The black cat glanced at the boy's bewildered face. Its green eyes were calm, quiet, and resolute. It said softly, "Words cannot convince you, Pei Ye. You only need to... see Him once."

"Didn't what happened before count? He's still inside my body."

"No." The black cat shook its head and tapped the boy's neck with its tail. "Fortunately, though, you're unfortunate enough that you may get to see Him today."

"Well... I'm not exactly that eager to see Him." Pei Ye muttered, opening the manuscript in his hands. "Where does this point us, then?"

"Open it and see." The black cat sighed softly, its cold amusement returning after a long absence. "Then put that little brain of yours to work."

"A spherical martial art connected to Ming Qitian, written in terrible handwriting." Pei Ye pulled no punches.

The air here was thick and sticky.

The stench of blood and rot, darkness, damp, oppressive heat, a lack of air-Xi Wuchou had been immersed in this environment for who knew how long. Occasionally, he remembered the feeling of drawing a cool breath tinged with a gentle breeze through his nose outside. It already seemed a lifetime away.

He still struggled to keep his mind clear, even though that meant thousands of heart-piercing pains bore heavily down upon that taut string.

He could no longer tell which parts of his body still worked. Seven or eight different kinds of pain would come from the same place at once. There was no hope of growing numb to the pain, but his brain's ability to pinpoint his injuries had indeed ceased to function.

For the first three days, the Prince of Zhenbei had done it himself, cruel delight shining in his eyes. Xi Wuchou had never expected to see such a twisted expression on that stern, imposing face. Looking at the comprehensive array of instruments and the still fairly fresh bloodstains, the frequency with which this torture chamber was used clearly revealed the prince's perverse tastes.

After three days, he left. By then, Xi Wuchou's body was already ruined beyond recognition, scarcely human in shape.

The Prince of Zhenbei delighted in smashing a beautiful, flawless piece of porcelain, but could not be bothered to do anything more with the shards.

For Xi Wuchou, however, the true suffering had only just begun. A gifted torturer would vent his master's unfinished rage in his stead, beginning to test his wild flights of fancy on this resilient body.

His methods were far more meticulous, and his understanding of suffering far deeper. Before any part of the body was completely destroyed, he made certain it had served its fullest purpose.

After just one day, Xi Wuchou's body began trembling violently and uncontrollably at the mere sight of him.

He did not know how long the days that followed lasted. Each day tested the limits of his endurance, only to be followed by a still more unbearable day, until the torturer finally grew bored with this lump of rotten flesh.

And that was the moment Xi Wuchou had been waiting for all along.

The Prince of Zhenbei had long since forgotten him, and the torturer believed he had already broken-even if he was occasionally still lucid, it made no difference. He could not possibly have any strength left to resist.

Quite apart from the fact that his meridian tree had been dug out at the very beginning, if he truly had the strength to resist, how could he have held back through all those moments of howling, screaming, and trembling?

A tale from the Arabian Nights.

Yet Xi Wuchou had held back.

His meridian tree had indeed been destroyed at the beginning, but his eye had not been gouged out until the second day.

The so-called immortal bestowed eye-although this left eye was not meant to store true qi, some had indeed remained within it.

He had carefully preserved that faint trace of true qi, day and night. It was his key to the gate of survival.

Until the man took him down from the hooks like a lump of rotten flesh.

Pfft.

In the silent torture chamber, the torturer's eyes bulged, as though he had seen a spike suddenly sprout from the pork on his chopping board and pierce the butcher's throat.

Killing a man could take a month, or only the blink of an eye.

Xi Wuchou precisely controlled the true qi he had left, wasting not the slightest fraction, because he still needed the remainder to support this body with its bones and sinews ruined and not a scrap of strength remaining.

-During that time, he had gone without any food or water for the first twenty days, and afterward had occasionally been given some swill.

Stepping over the corpse at his feet, Xi Wuchou found his way to the door by memory.

When he had been dragged in here that day, he had forced himself to memorize the route. He had preserved that memory as preciously as his true qi.

Now, at last, he could bring it out.

Outside the door, it was night.

Although his eyes could no longer perceive light, night had many other qualities. Through his experiences over the past dozen-odd years, he had often kept company with them.

The torture chamber stood in a secluded location. He had rehearsed his escape route in his mind thousands of times. This was the first time he had measured this ground with his own feet, yet he already knew it by heart.

Through the gardens, over the rear wall, and out of the city. This was the edge of the prince's estate. Along the way, he needed only to pass an elegant little courtyard and a small building whose purpose he did not know.

He would go to that building first, because it ought to be a kitchen.

He had to eat and drink. Scaling the courtyard wall and leaving the city both required precious true qi; he could not waste it sustaining his body.

He felt his way there and pushed at the door. Locked, as expected. He moved to the window and squeezed inside. As he groped around, his hand suddenly brushed a warm earthen wall.

It was... a stove!

Xi Wuchou quickly sniffed and felt around, stuffing the soft things he found in the pot into his mouth. Enduring the fierce pain as they rubbed against his ulcerated mouth, he slowly swallowed them.

Coming here had been the right decision, though it had consumed both time and true qi, two equally precious things.

But this place had provided more than water and food. It had also given him the time-since the stove was still warm, night must have fallen only recently.

Xi Wuchou sat there for a little while, feeling warmth rise within his body for the first time in ages. Then he squeezed back out through the window.

Continuing forward among the screening trees and shrubs, he walked with an animal's strange gait, guided by memory.

The rockery is here. He reached out and, sure enough, touched jagged stone.

I should be at the flowers now. Sure enough, their fragrance had already reached his nose.

Running water. I've reached the spring-fed pool.

The little pavilion should be ahead. Go around it. Mind the steps.

One hundred and fifty paces. I should be at that little courtyard.

I don't know who lives there. Best give it a wide berth.

Suddenly, he stopped. Someone quite light was kicked out of the courtyard, tumbling twice before rolling onto the ground.

Xi Wuchou stood motionless beneath the trees, blending into the night.

Then came another set of footsteps, stomping out through the gate, accompanied by a shrill female voice. "Filthy wretch! You dared touch my hairpin with those pig's hands that scrub piss buckets all day!"

The woman on the ground let out a groaning "Urgh," which seemed to be cut short.

Xi Wuchou could not see, but he knew that sound well-it was a heavy stomp to the stomach.

"You think this hairpin is pretty, don't you? Did you fucking want to try wearing it too?! You horny little whore! Didn't you want to touch it? Here, touch it! Touch it!"

There was the sound of a sharp object entering flesh. It must have been that hairpin.

More hurried footsteps came running out, accompanied by a soothing voice. "Miss, miss, calm down-oh dear, why dirty your own hands over a pig like this?"

The stabbing sounds stopped.

The young lady stood up, panting, and shrieked, "Beat her to death and feed her to the dogs!"

"Yes, yes, yes! To the dogs, to the pigs! Don't make yourself ill with anger, miss." As this person spoke, they kicked the fallen girl's face.

Xi Wuchou hesitated for less than a second.

He reached out and plucked a leaf from a tree.

Only after making this decision did he discover that he was still so vividly alive.

For those dozens of sunless days, including the time since his escape from the torture chamber, he had been nothing more than a machine seeking survival.

The true qi he had so carefully preserved through day after day and night after night now flowed out without the slightest stint. Xi Wuchou seemed to become a ghost dissolving into the wind.

A single leaf sliced open two throats. Puzzled, the young lady wiped her neck. Blood gushed onto her hand like a spring. She raised it to look, terror lingering in her bright, beautiful eyes.

Xi Wuchou watched mistress and servant fall before him.

Only half his true qi remained. He could still scale the courtyard wall, but it would certainly not sustain him all the way out of the city.

Xi Wuchou heard the tortured girl slowly sitting up on the ground. With her mistress dead like this, she would certainly not be spared afterward-but she would not have survived anyway.

Nor had he done it to save her.

Xi Wuchou slowly collapsed to the ground. Suddenly, he understood this truth: escaping, returning decades later to kill, and inflicting the same torment on his enemy-that was revenge. But casually casting away his chance to live and doing, once again, the very same thing that had brought him to this-that was victory.

-You thought all that torment over dozens of days and nights had utterly destroyed me. But in truth, it hadn't changed even the smallest part of me.

Chapter 73: A conversation

The County Office.

Xing Zhi was still studying the two objects on the table, deep in thought.

There were too many factors surrounding Ming Qitian. Bringing her into it would only muddle their thinking, yet with only the bead and the booklet left, there were far too few clues.

Xing Zhi sighed, thinking that Pei Ye and the others should be back soon.

Xu Weizhou had ultimately gone outside the city alone, because Xing Zhi was considering whether to have Ming Qitian leave.

If Ming Qitian was indeed the one the Immortal Lord sought, this would of course be a good solution: first, His scheme could not succeed; second, if He went after Ming Qitian, Fenghuai could be preserved; third, even if Ming Qitian died, Cloud Lang Mountain's wrath would be directed solely at the Torchworld Cult.