CHAPTER 53

Bitter Medicine

I blinked groggily, my vision adjusting to the soft light filtering through unfamiliar surroundings. I was lying on a bed, its covers surprisingly plush, the room dimly lit by a lantern hanging near the door. The faint scent of sandalwood lingered in the air. My mind reeled. The last thing I remembered was dozing off inside the carriage. Yet, here I was, in an unfamiliar room.

I tried to sit up, but a sharp ache shot through my muscles, a reminder of my fight with that level-three brat. My joints protested as I forced myself upright.

Luck had been on my side that day. If my opponent hadn’t been so reckless, I wouldn’t have lived to see another sunrise. Of course, if I hadn’t survived, Ruan Yanjun would likely have painted the streets of that town crimson in retaliation.

A shiver ran through me as I became acutely aware of my attire. Or rather, the lack thereof. I was dressed in nothing but my sleeping robe. My face burned as realization struck. Who else could have undressed me but him?

I swallowed hard, the thought of Ruan Yanjun’s hands on me—aiding me, undressing me—sending my mind into a spiral of mortifying scenarios. That devil had a knack for toeing the line between propriety and chaos, and I had no idea which side he had chosen this time.

“No,” I muttered to myself, shaking my head vigorously. I wouldn’t let my mind wander down that path. Whether he’d done anything improper or not, it was better left unexamined.

The soft creak of a door opening snapped me out of my thoughts.

“You’re awake,” came the familiar, smug tone of Ruan Yanjun as he entered the room.

I stiffened as he approached, carrying a small bowl in his hands. My stomach churned at the sight.

Bitter medicine. Again.

“What happened?” I asked, forcing my voice to remain steady.

He placed the bowl on the stand beside the bed, his expression unreadable but for the faintest trace of amusement in his eyes. “You fell asleep in the carriage and wouldn’t wake up, so I carried you here.”

Carried me. Again. Like I was some fragile maiden.

My fists clenched beneath the covers.

“And where is ‘here’?” I asked, doing my best to keep my tone even.

“In an inn along the road,” he replied. “In two days, we’ll reach my residence in Liuye City. You can finally rest properly.”

The promise of respite was tempting, almost enough to make me forget the ordeal of the last two months. Almost.

“Drink your medicine,” he instructed, already turning to leave. “I’ll inform the innkeeper to prepare your breakfast.”

The door clicked shut behind him, leaving me alone with the dreaded bowl. I stared at it, the dark liquid inside threatening to churn my already unsettled stomach. Two months of incessant training and unpalatable brews, all under the watchful eye of that devil. He claimed it was for my health, for my progress, but his methods were merciless.

Since our departure from Henmei District, Ruan Yanjun had pushed me to my limits and beyond. Whenever the carriage passed a clearing, he’d have the coachman stop so he could drag me out for impromptu training sessions. At first, they lasted an hour. By the time we crossed into Wun Empire, he had escalated to two grueling hours at dawn and another two at night. My protests about my failing health fell on deaf ears.

“You’ll endure,” he’d say. “Your will is stronger than your body.”

But was it? Each session left me crumpled on the ground, coughing violently, only to be carried back to my room like a maiden, which according to him was a punishment for failing to complete my training hours. Then came the endless stream of bitter medicines he forced down my throat, claiming they were the result of his extensive research.

I turned my head away from the bowl, my resolve firm. Not this time.

The door opened again, and Ruan Yanjun stepped in. His sharp gaze fell immediately on me, then on the untouched bowl. “Does A-Fan want to take his medicine from my mouth?” he asked, his tone laced with warning.

I shuddered but chose to ignore his threat. “I’ll drink it later.”

His lips twitched, though whether in amusement or frustration, I couldn’t tell. “And by ‘later,’ you mean never?”

I didn’t answer, but my silence was answer enough.

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He sighed dramatically, shaking his head as though dealing with a particularly stubborn child. “If you don’t need the medicine, then let’s not waste time. Get up. We’ll train now.”

I froze, staring at him in disbelief. “What?”

“You heard me. If you’re strong enough to refuse the medicine, then you’re strong enough to spar.”

“Wait, wait, wait!” I said, scrambling to reach for the bowl. “I’ll drink it.”

I tipped the bitter concoction back in one gulp, grimacing as the taste assaulted my tongue. He smirked, his victory clear.

Satisfied, he leaned against the doorframe, his arms crossed. “Good. That’s my obedient A-Fan.”

I glared at him, the fiery retort on my tongue dying as his smirk deepened. This devil always had a way of twisting everything to his advantage.

How much longer could I endure this torment? As I wiped the bitterness from my lips, I wondered if Ruan Yanjun enjoyed watching me suffer—or if there was something deeper behind that infuriating smirk.

****

The warm afternoon light streamed through the cracks of the wooden window, painting golden streaks on the floor as I sat on the edge of the bed. My body was still recovering, but the quiet moment of peace was a welcome respite. It was then that the innkeeper knocked softly at the door, his voice polite yet slightly urgent.

“Priest Luo, there’s a young man named Bao Bao requesting to see you.”

I furrowed my brows. Bao Bao. The name was familiar—the brash, arrogant level-three cultivator I had faced just days ago. What could he want now? “Bring him in,” I said after a moment’s thought.

When the door opened, the Bao Bao who entered was not the same proud figure I remembered. His posture was stiff, but there was no confidence in his gait. His head was slightly bowed, and the arrogance that had once clung to him like a second skin was now nowhere to be seen. He looked… humbled. Meek, even.

I gestured for him to sit. “Please, make yourself comfortable.” Turning to the innkeeper, I added, “Could you bring us tea and some snacks?”

Bao Bao sat cautiously, his hands clenching his knees as if steadying himself. When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet, laden with uncertainty. “I want to know,” he began, “if I’ve been wrong all this time. People have always told me that I have exceptional talent, that I’m destined for greatness. Have I just been lying to myself?”

I sighed, sympathy tugging at my heart. “Bao Bao, you are talented. Few make it to level three at your age. But talent alone isn’t enough. Perseverance and humility are just as important. If you keep striving, I’m certain you can achieve the rank of grandmaster one day.”

He shook his head, his jaw tightening. “I used to believe that too. And I was tempted to think that you cheated to defeat me. But no matter how much I replayed the fight in my mind, I couldn’t see how it was possible. I came here because I need to hear it from you. How did I lose to someone like you—a level one?”

I studied him, noting the raw vulnerability in his gaze. “I think you already know the answer,” I said softly.

He nodded slowly. “I was reckless. I underestimated you. But even so, your timing, the precision of your strike—it was beyond anything I’ve seen. And the force behind your qi…” His voice trailed off as if he was afraid to continue. “A level one shouldn’t be capable of that.”

I sighed, leaning back slightly. “Then let this serve as a lesson, Bao Bao. Never judge an opponent by appearances. No matter their level, treat every battle as if your life depends on it. You never know what hardships or experiences they’ve endured. Some martial artists lose everything and start from the bottom, learning to adapt in ways you might not expect.”

His eyes widened, his mouth opening slightly in realization. “You…” His words faltered.

I offered a faint smile, acknowledging his unspoken understanding. “Yes, Bao Bao. That’s exactly the point.”

He mulled over my words before nodding slowly. “That makes sense,” he murmured. “But the compacted force of your qi… was that also from experience?”

I chuckled faintly. “It wasn’t as strong as you think. But my master taught me techniques to concentrate energy in a single point, increasing its impact. That’s why it seemed more powerful than it was.”

“Your master,” he said, his voice tinged with reverence. “Sect Leader Ruan?”

I inclined my head.

He immediately cupped his hands and bowed deeply. “Thank you for explaining. I feel… I feel like I can move forward now.”

I placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “Keep cultivating, Bao Bao. With determination, there’s no limit to what you can achieve.”

A brief smile flickered across his face. “I hope the same for you, Priest Luo. May you regain what you’ve lost.”

He hesitated before asking, “Priest Luo, may I ask one more thing? Do you think I could ever study under Sect Leader Ruan?”

The question startled me, though I quickly masked my reaction. “If you mean as his direct disciple, that is for him to decide. I can mention you, but I can’t promise anything. However, joining the Eternal Damnation Sect might open opportunities for you.”

His expression shifted, conflicted. I could see the turmoil in his eyes.

“You’re at level three now,” I said gently. “It’s time to consider your path. If you wish to progress, you’ll need a master to implant a core. But the Eternal Damnation Sect is a dark-core sect. Is that a path you’re willing to take?”

He swallowed hard, his gaze dropping to the floor. “My hometown… they’ve always expected me to follow the righteous path.”

“Then perhaps you should seek a light-core master,” I advised. “There are many in the Wun Empire who would be willing to guide you.”

“I only want to learn Sect Leader Ruan’s techniques,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

Before I could respond, a familiar voice cut through the room like a blade. “I’m afraid you’re not worthy.”

Both of us turned toward the door. Ruan Yanjun strode in, his presence commanding as ever. He stopped beside Bao Bao, looking down at him with a smirk that held both amusement and challenge.

Bao Bao immediately bowed deeply. “Sect Leader Ruan.”

“There’s a reason I only have three direct disciples out of thousands in my sect,” Ruan Yanjun said. “My standards are high. I only train cultivators with the greatest potential. Unfortunately for you, you don’t meet my criteria.”

Bao Bao opened his mouth as if to argue but quickly thought better of it.

Ruan Yanjun’s eyes narrowed. “What’s stopping you? Your hometown’s expectations? Do you not have the courage to forge your own path?”

Bao Bao’s silence spoke volumes.

With a smirk, Ruan Yanjun continued, “I’ll write you a recommendation letter. If you’re serious, take it to Grandmaster Gao in Luzhong District. He’ll evaluate you for the Eternal Damnation Sect. But be warned—the journey isn’t easy, and the sect isn’t for the faint of heart.”

“I’ll think about it,” Bao Bao said, bowing once more. “Thank you, Sect Leader Ruan. Priest Luo, thank you for your guidance. I hope we meet again.”

As he left, Ruan Yanjun turned to me, his smirk softening into something unreadable. “A-Fan, you attract interesting company.”

I sighed, already bracing for another of his taunts. “You only have yourself to blame for that.”