In the chaos, more and more murk was excreted out. The sticky, nasty substance clung to Myrkas' skin. Its smell pervaded the air, a foul mixture of rot, smoke, and pus swirled with the acrid scent of blood already in the room.

Myrkas fought on. He did not let his mind devolve into panic. His mantra was his rock. Pain was information. Disruptive, yes, but useful in its own way. As time passed, his meditation became easier and he gained confidence. For a second, Myrkas thought he glimpsed his three inner gates, each one hidden behind a dantian. Or through them, it was hard to tell. The one at his glabella, in his forehead, was dark and inactive. The gate in Myrkas' chest reflected his new, bright whirlpool. The silvery light cast shadowy ripples on the boulder-like obstacle keeping it closed. And the last one in his pelvis pulsed a dark red. Myrkas heard the primal beat coming from it for a few seconds at most, but it was enough to convey the rage hidden within its depths. The vision didn't last. It went away without Myrkas being able to bring it back.

At long last, Myrkas achieved some sort of balance. The pain had started to diminish a little with the borring and burning decreasing. His middle dantian only contained a fifth of his starting amount of Qi, the rest leaked through his skin and lost in the air. But the level had stabilized. The sum of new Qi brought by his breathing, and the pacified and converted Jade-Qi was compensating his losses. Myrkas' blood even seemed to move more freely, as if hidden pathways had been unclogged.

This time, however, Myrkas waited before letting his mind jubilate. Not all grass-Qi had yet been tamed. The boy pursued his meditation until no more foreign energy could be found in any corner of his young body. He had been scrubbed raw, more thoroughly than Myrkas had ever thought possible. And he still felt dirty, thanks to the nauseating oil clinging to his battered skin. The smell alone was horrendous. It stank enough to convince Myrkas he had somehow travelled to one of hells' dumpster dimensions during his meditation.

With an audible gulp, Myrkas slowly stood up. He feared the sight that awaited light to be revealed. The boy needed three tries before being able to stand in a stable manner. His hands grabbed nearby surfaces for additional help with balance. Myrkas felt so, so weak. His knees kept on shaking and buckling against his will. The slippery floor did not help in any way.

A few steps was all Myrkas managed before he slipped and fell on his buttocks. The hit shook him, awaking momentarily residual soreness through all his tissues: bones and marrow included. A wave of weakness rammed into Myrkas, leaving him a little short of breath. He was drained. Utterly and completely drained.

The boy had expected to feel a tad under the weather, but this seemed disproportionate. After all, Myrkas had managed to somewhat replenish his dantian in the calmer part of his "medicinal bath." Once he had reached equilibrium, he had been able to gather, accumulate, and convert most of the Jade-Qi left in his body, losing very little along with the substance that came out of his skin; a substance Myrkas did not want to contemplate yet. His middle Qi pool was currently filled at three-quarter capacity, miraculously. All while he still had Qi flowing through his vascular system. That new cycle had been promoted to a permanent fixture of Myrkas' cultivation path. And not because Myrkas thought it was too much trouble to reverse the change, of course not. It only seemed to make sense to have Qi flow through his entire body at all times. So why not? Myrkas quite liked the added protection against nocive Qi. No need to tempt the green devil again so soon.

Unable to do much else, Myrkas waited for the weakness to subside. He had to brace himself not to fall asleep. He needed to minimize the risk of being found here, with the room in this yet unrevealed state, with his experiment and its near-dire consequences on obvious display. Thankfully, it did not take too long before Myrkas was strong enough to stand unassisted. From there, the boy easily found his singular candle and quickly brought light to the scene.

The darkness retreated to corners and stray shadows at once. What met Myrkas was horrifying. Enough to make any low-budget horror movie's artistic director proud. Myrkas must have trashed around more than he thought while in his bath. The previously simple, austere room was half-flooded, red waters and blackish sludge marring its floor and part of the walls. What was left in the tub was better not described. The smell alone sufficient to haunt Myrkas for nonats, no need to dwell on what he had been submerged in. On what had come out of his skin, and other orifices best not mentioned.

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It was gross. By extension, Myrkas was gross. Biological matter was disgusting, end of discussion.

With some residual anxiety, Myrkas looked down at himself. Of course, the boy was also covered with a mixture of bloody water and whatever that dark, stinky, slimy thing was. He needed another bath, several more likely. To Myrkas' growing horror, all his recent muscular progress had melted—the boy was back to skin and bones, with bony protrusions poking everywhere. He could way too easily count his ribs with one finger. His knees looked more like brittle weapons than articulations. At least his hair had not fallen out. Thank Heavens.

Myrkas sighed. He had succeeded. Even now, he could somewhat feel the leftover Qi in the air. The distinction was nowhere near as precise as it had been while he meditated, but he had gained a general sense of the ambient Qi present. Furthermore, his own Qi's existence and motions remained present at the back of his mind. Like a comforting blanket always there to be wrapped around if needed.

Myrkas sighed again. He had succeeded, yes, but he had once more been too reckless. He had almost died. He should have listened to his uncle. Tried to convince him more. Mix methods one at a time, perhaps, or experiment under supervision. The danger had left a bitter taste in Myrkas' mouth. The danger and the cleaning he had to do. He had a lot of work to get himself, the room, and the tub back to pristine condition.

The fruits of his unsanctioned training were much less attractive in front of the "glamourous" task ahead. The books from his previous life had completely glossed over the necessary maintenance and repairs to facilities post intense training sessions. Training grounds always seem to magically reset, blood wiped clean and resources refilled.

That was without mentioning that goddamned prince. Of course, the Imperial brat never had to clean after himself. He had servants for that. He could cultivate in peace, focused only on his progress. With all the best resources at his disposition. The princeling would never need to debase himself to use discarded Piercing Jade Grass oil in an attempt to accelerate his "slow as an injured snail" training pace. His imperial mentors weren't scaredy uncles, but renowned Masters with experience. No need for novel experiments there.

Yes, now that Myrkas had had time to reflect, this endeavour had gone quite okay. He had succeeded. He wasn't dead or maimed. One had to take risks to gain power. It was the name of the game. He could not let one small passing greeting with Death stop him. He needed to grow to fulfill his protagonist's destiny. Who knew what lurked around corners? Better to strive for ever more magical strength.

But cleaning came first. A good dose of elbow grease coming right up. However, learning a cleaning technique had bumped up Myrkas' priority list by a great amount post ordeal. After learning how to directly manipulate Qi, evidently. Hard to cast a spell without a way to bend magical energies to one's will. A concern for later.

And so Myrkas scrubbed. He attacked the labour with renewed fervour, bolstered by his achievement. His body was weak, inordinately so, but Myrkas persevered. He could not afford to leave such flagrant proof of his secret experiments for long. The boy had to take breaks often, finding meditation useful to quicken his recuperation.

His growling stomach too soon put a pause in his efforts. He was only halfway done. Too afraid his illicit training would be discovered, Myrkas perdured. At some point, he managed to continue his meditations while he cleaned. The new flow of Qi boosted his energies, making Myrkas feel light-headed and giddy in his post-adrenaline rush state. It mixed with his sense of accomplishment, forming quite an addictive feeling. It made his previous pain seem worth it, ready to be relegated to necessary obstacles in his pursuit for power and independence.

This fugue-like state lasted him until the end of his work. The room was not sparkling but it was good enough for the day. Myrkas would pass again the next day to ensure any evidence of his activities was erased.

Pangs of hunger prevented the boy from indulging in any perfectionist tendency. A quick but thorough, cold bath later, Myrkas went on a hunt. Crawling, for he was so weak and hungry, he prowled the estate for sustenance. Myrkas did not stop until he found his prey, the single most important desire of any self-respecting male almost teenager: an unreasonably large amount of food ready to be devoured.