I gazed up at the familiar stone ceiling, coldness seeping into my back as I lay on the stone floor. It was a strange sensation, the stones colder than one would expect ordinary rocks to be.
Perhaps they were magical rocks capable of withstanding the power of a cultivator?
Despite the bizarre circumstances of my first day in this new prison, subsequent days passed relatively uneventfully.
The warden, when sober, proved to be a fairly ordinary guy. Though he undeniably harbored a soft spot for his daughter. No one dared mention her, even in his sober moments, let alone when he was intoxicated. No one was eager to discover the consequences of such a thing.
I learned that he often indulged in alcohol during the evenings, a revelation I made on my second day of imprisonment.
Three days had already elapsed since my arrival, and I had to admit, the accommodations weren't all that terrible. Other inmates occupied nearby cells, and while sunlight was absent, arrays prevented us from hearing each other—a stark contrast to the guards, who could listen to our every word. That was probably for the better, as I didn't want all the noise usually associated with the prisons.
The rocks retained a dampness at night, inducing a slight chill, but nothing a cultivator's body couldn't endure. Inner disciples dutifully delivered our preferred meals daily, their roles reduced to that of mere servants within these walls.
It seemed even among the talented inner disciples, hierarchy prevailed, with the power lying in the hands of the elders. True power in their hands was more important than the disciples, who only had the potential to hold such power.
The environment might have been drearier had I not spent my days engrossed in training or playing with Speedy when fatigue set in.
On a positive note, my wounds had healed. The prison provided top-notch medicine, with a healer ensuring my recovery before giving me the green light to resume activities.
My cell exuded a faint mustiness, and the thin futon served as my bed, but all in all, it was relatively spacious—for a cell, at least. I even had my own toilet hole tucked away in a corner, mercifully distant enough not to assail my senses.
Now that I thought about it, there was no way my sense of smell wouldn't have picked up something like that. So some poor bastard had to put an array over that so it wouldn't smell.
My recent journey in the wild had given me a newfound appreciation for such basic comforts. This was still a far cry from the harshness of sleeping in the cold wilderness, where the threat of a Monstrous Beast lurking around any corner loomed ominously.
The solid rocks enclosing the cell ignited a longing to continue training in Piercing Fang Fist. With little else to occupy my time, I saw this confinement as an opportunity to catch up on the training I had missed outside the sect.
Though there was an instinctual urge to test my fist against the wall, I hesitated. They wouldn't put us in a prison we could break out of; I would probably end up breaking my fist instead. Even if, by some miracle, the wall broke, what would I gain? Just a cave-in and I wasn't willing to gamble on surviving something like that, cultivator or not.
Rising to my feet, I assumed my training stance, eager for another session. If I overexerted myself and ended up injured, there were medicines and medical staff readily available—no need for unnecessary concern. Presuming I broke anything by overtraining, it wasn't my problem to deal with that.
Really, putting me in this prison with nothing to do was like putting an alcoholic in a brewery. Nothing held me back from going to lengths I had never gone before.
"Time for another four hours of relentless training," I mused aloud. "Perhaps this time, I'll finally push myself to the brink and collapse from exhaustion. It would certainly break the monotony."
The recuperative abilities of a cultivator were nothing short of remarkable; a brief pause following an intense training session, and I would be ready to repeat the process in less than five minutes.
…
After an exhausting routine of a couple of hours, during which I used nothing but the Piercing Fang Fist, generating gentle winds in the aftermath of my swings swishing through the air.
I sat down for a small break as it felt like my arms were about to fall off. I placed the little turtle on my head. Speedy had grown accustomed to me and no longer even attempted to bite. He simply fell asleep on my head.
"Maybe I should call you Sleepy instead of Speedy?" I chuckled.
Were turtles supposed to sleep this much? Maybe I should have the medical staff check on him the next time they come around. Perhaps his shell was more comfortable than spending time with dear old me.
"It feels like yesterday when I bought you, and now you're already in your teenage phase where you don't want to spend time with anyone."
Even if it wasn't due to needing him for my new technique, I was glad I had bought Speedy. After all, it would have been rather odd if someone was spying on my cell and saw me talking with myself.
I ceased dwelling on peculiarities and closed my eyes, taking a deep breath and focusing on the connection between me and Speedy. I adopted strange rhythmic breaths, and the turtle on my head now felt much heavier, akin to a stone the size of a bowling ball. I made a concerted effort not to move even an inch, as the Turtle Body Technique required the user to remain still during training.
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Soon enough, the pressure in my head spread throughout my body like a voodoo curse, making me feel significantly heavier. My muscles strained, and it felt as though my arms were on the verge of dislocation due to the increased weight.
Despite the realistic sensations, I reminded myself repeatedly that it wasn't real; it was merely an illusion intended to trick the body into becoming stronger to cope with the heaviness. My muscles began twitching and flexing autonomously as if they were beating against my bones like drums. I could feel the blood coursing through my body, everything internally colliding with one another in the hopes of recuperating and growing stronger.
There were countless techniques out there, and most of those I had trained until now required movement to train them. Yet, somehow, chanting a mantra internally with a sleeping turtle on my head caused my body to beat itself and grow stronger.
The weirdest part was that I could sense something changing within me. Hopefully, there wasn't some secret drawback where I would turn into a humanoid turtle… The technique book had been pitch black. Maybe it was a demonic technique all along? Did some demonic practitioner put it there to mess with an orthodox sect?
Damn, I really didn't want to become a ninja turtle. Now I really wished there was more room in the cell to practice Rushing Bull Step.
Suddenly, the metallic door to my cell opened with a loud screech. I immediately halted my training and opened my eyes, a bead of sweat rolling down my cheek.
The newcomer was an old woman who looked like she already had one foot in the grave; she was hunched and used a walking stick. Her hair was tied in two braids that fell down to the front of her shoulders.
Despite her frail appearance, I was instantly on guard. Her red robe signified she was a core elder in the sect, one of the super big shots, just below the sect leader.
How had it come to this, where I had to meet with such a prominent figure? By this point, even I was curious about what had happened to involve so many people.
"Hello, you're Liu Feng, correct?" She asked, with a gentle and grandmotherly smile on her face. Before I could even answer her, she took out a sack and opened it. "Do you want some candy? My granddaughter took most of my strawberry-flavored ones, but you can have some orange-flavored ones."
Flavored candies in this world? Well, some cultivators flew on swords. But flavored candies felt more modern. I didn't know much about the history of candies either way.
"Yes, thank you, if you wouldn't mind," I replied, attempting to mask my nervousness, though it wasn't easy. The granny likely noticed, but it wasn't uncommon to feel nervous when in the presence of someone who could potentially assume leadership of the sect in the event of the Sect Leader's absence. "Sorry if this was some kind of test, and I wasn't supposed to take the candy."
"No need to worry about tests. I always carry candy with me, and my granddaughter loves them," she sighed. "It must be difficult for someone your age to spend time in prison. All the other Core Elders refused him, but just because of the suspicion of one Core Elder, we have to disturb all the others. Can you believe he insisted on putting my granddaughter here and almost took her? Just because she was outside during that time?"
She clenched her fist and ground her teeth as veins popped on her forehead, creating quite a haunting appearance that sent chills down my spine. So I nodded along with whatever she said.
When she mentioned her granddaughter, I doubted it was actually her granddaughter. As a Core Elder, she was likely hundreds of years old and appeared aged, so her descendant might be more of a great-great-granddaughter.
"Hey! Bring me a chair!" She called out, and one of the inner disciples promptly entered with a wooden chair.
The young man bowed and then left without uttering a word. Meanwhile, the old lady settled onto the chair, producing a notepad with a swipe of her hand. "Right, Liu Feng. The Liu Clan has another three members in the inner sect, with you being the only one in the outer sect. All three of your relatives have vouched for your innocence and affirmed that you were never involved in anything untoward during your youth. What do you say to that?"
Her gaze shifted from the tablet to me. Unlike the previous grandmotherly look, her expression now bore a more serious and calm demeanor. A weight settled upon my shoulders, and bile rose in my throat, threatening to spill over. However, I pushed through and took a deep breath.
"My cousins are fair people," I responded.
I didn't know much about my relatives in the inner sect. Liu Feng wasn't the most friendly guy, even back home. Sure, he knew what the Liu Clan Head's daughter looked like, but everyone did, and it wasn't like they were particularly close. Especially since the generation now in the inner sect were at least two or three years older than him, and when they had left the clan, Liu Feng had been thirteen or twelve.
Liu Feng had his own petty rivals in the clan, but thankfully none of them had made it to the Blazing Sun Sect. Even if they had, I doubted they would have spoken badly about their cousin. After all, they knew that whatever conflicts they had within the family, it was better to keep it in-house and not involve outsiders.
"Well, now that we've warmed up a bit, how about we get to the real questions," the old woman said, smiling, revealing rows of missing teeth. "Do you know anything about the explosion on the road between Blazing Sun Sect and Greengrass Town?"
"No," I replied. "I heard that there was an explosion, and rumors suggested that many people died. But it's just hearsay, and I'm not entirely certain if anyone actually died due to the explosion."
The old granny hummed thoughtfully and jotted something down in her notepad.
It was beyond dangerous to lie to someone of her caliber. With centuries of experience under her belt, I doubted I could match her in scheming or deception.
Whatever was behind that explosion, it didn't take a genius to realize that having my name associated with it would be a disaster waiting to happen. It was a ticking time bomb, and I wanted no part in whatever was brewing.
As far as I knew, no techniques or artifacts could accurately discern if someone was lying. While there might be methods to detect changes in heart rate or other physiological responses, those signals didn't definitively indicate lying. Moreover, I genuinely knew nothing about the explosion, even if such techniques existed.
"Good," she remarked shortly, "Now, when you came to the sect, you were injured. What happened there?"
"A man attempted to ambush me. He wielded a sword and brass knuckles. Though I hesitate to call it a fight, I must admit that I fled and barely escaped, employing various tactics," I recounted.
"You claim you fled from him? The cut on your arm, I understand, as you may have used your arm to defend yourself," Her gaze intensified, sending a shiver down my spine. "But what about the injury to your side ribs? From what you've described, you ran from your assailant. Yet, a rib injury typically happens when one is not fleeing but engaged in a fight...usually, people who run sustain injuries to the back. So what do you make of that?"