Having such an abundance of free time allowed the earthling to even approach such an important skill for warmasters as adhering with prana to surfaces.
Thanks to this, any strike strengthened by internal energy increased in power since the earthling was no longer knocked back by recoil.
Training this skill was simple – Stas lay on his back and pressed his leg against the wagon's side. He then channeled prana through his soles, ensuring it penetrated through the sandals and entered the wood's structure.
After that, he carefully pulled his leg back, trying to maintain the connection.
Progress was slow, but it was there; moreover, such active use and energy expenditure increased his small reserve, greatly pleasing Ordyntsev.
The sensation of becoming stronger and being able to use even more prana was so delightful that Stanislav not only didn't tire from this work, but on the contrary, he enjoyed it.
Moreover, the realization that you are pushing back the possibility of your own death was also quite pleasant.
His teammates were not putting in such impressive efforts in training, but they also didn't waste time.
They were not foolish and understood that such easy and safe missions would not last forever.
Besides developing his own energy, the man also didn't forget about the pride of any warmaster – his own arsenal of techniques.
After some thought, the first choice fell on "Insensate Demon." Extracting foreign bodies could, potentially, save a lot of prana, but having good anesthesia in case of injury was too important.
In a situation where you must fight, even despite the excruciating pain tearing through your insides, the Demon technique could restore the much-needed clarity of consciousness.
And so, on the way between a couple of towns, Stas celebrated exactly one year in this unfriendly world.
For this occasion, he even bought an expensive bottle of wine from the merchant, meant specifically for warmasters, after which he invited his comrades to share it in the evening. Sensei was also invited, but he declined.
The fire burned brightly in the approaching darkness, sending long tongues of flame upwards. Cicadas chirped loudly in the forest, and the stars shone surprisingly bright, occasionally obscured by smoke streams from other fires.
"What are we drinking to?" Eiji smirked, curiously handling the bottle.
"Be careful, or you'll break it," Mei snatched the bottle from him. "It's well known that you're all thumbs."
"And who was recently supposed to clear the road of fallen trees but instead broke it so badly that our sensei had to fix it?" Eiji teased, causing Mei to blush with anger.
"Don't you lecture me about mistakes!" the heiress retorted. "You forget all your techniques at the slightest pressure from the master's bloodlust."
"Big deal, he's still a supreme warmaster," the lad muttered.
"Comrades," Stas smiled peacefully, attracting the attention of his surprised teammates. They were seeing Ordyntsev so serene and calm for the first time. "Enough arguing. Today, I'd like to celebrate exactly one year since I woke up after losing memory."
'And a year since I ended up in this world.'
Ordyntsev silently poured the wine into cups, then handed them to Mei and Eiji at the same time, intentionally not favoring either.
They nodded in thanks and then looked at him expectantly.
Stas took a deep breath and smiled at the night sky.
"Today, I want to drink to us surviving all dangers and hardships in future wars. I want each of us to achieve what we desire," his words flew further and further, spiraling into the heights.
Mei and Eiji listened intently.
"Finally," Stas looked directly at them. "I want the tale of our team to travel from one end of the world and then, like waves, return back. To us and to becoming legends in the world of warmasters."
"To us!" Eiji responded readily.
"To us!" Mei smiled sweetly.
"Kampai!" The three voices merged, and the fiery liquid was eagerly downed.
Ordyntsev's eyes bulged, and he barely stopped himself from spitting out the molten magma. Judging by his comrades' faces, they were thinking something similar.
But eventually, the bitterness and burning passed, and a familiar warmth spread through their bodies.
A couple of cups later, Eiji and Mei were animatedly criticizing the Avasaki, the Great Clan of air warmasters. The earthling happily joined their discussion.
His head was buzzing, but his cloak-shrouded hand, channeling the Healing Palm technique at his belly, eased the drunkenness.
The man smiled contentedly.
Now, he had to make sure his young comrades became a little closer to each other this evening.
Jun, lying to the side, just shook his head at his student's slyness. The more he observed Shiro, the more he realized that the lad would either soon perish or actually achieve his mysterious goals, whatever they might be.
In any case, for now, Shiro was doing everything exclusively for the benefit of others. So Jun saw no reason to interfere.
*****
"Thank you, master!" Overwhelmed by her feelings, the woman before him collapsed to the ground. She then pressed her forehead to the feet of Stas, who was sitting. "We will pray for you to all the Kami and spirits! May the gods bless you for your kindness and compassion. What are you standing for?" She turned and scolded her son, who had come to his senses. "Bow to the kind master."
"Please get up," Stas's face remained unchanged, expressing the same gracious benevolence. "I need to rest." This was not true, but Ordyntsev didn't want to listen to another pointless adulation.
"Of course, excuse me," the woman helped her exhausted child stand, and they quickly left the square under the envious gazes of others.
He had heard this part too many times in recent days to feel any different about it.
And it all started because the calmness of the mission meant that healing skills did not develop. Of course, one could catch some living creature and, by inflicting wounds, heal them.
But Stas had smoothly passed that phase where it was acceptable to train on animals. Now, he needed specifically human patients.
A wide variety of injuries and other bodily damages was required.
And, after a bit of thought, Stas found a solution.
Now, arriving in each new town or village, Stas demonstratively set up a folding chair somewhere in the square and, sticking two sticks into the ground, hung a sign on them.
"Offering services of a warmaster healer and ordinary medic. Unique offer. Price negotiable. Treatment of particularly difficult cases is discussed separately. Prices don't bite; anyone can afford them."
Stas was a bit deceitful in the last statement.
Only skilled workers and craftsmen could afford them. The poor did not make the list. This was done to reduce the possible visitor flow.
Ordyntsev honestly warned that he could not heal everything. There simply wasn't enough prana and skill to use it correctly.
A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
So where did that poor woman come from, carrying her sick son in her arms? Judging by her clothes, if she had any money, it had been a long time ago.
As it turned out, few people dared to go to an unknown healer. And to somehow stir them up, Stas offered to heal the ailments of five volunteers from the poor for free.
The offer quickly spread through the city, and after a couple of hours, the first patient approached Stas.
"Master," the desperately limping lad, clutching a crutch in his calloused hands, looked bad. One didn't have to be a genius to understand what had happened.
Due to a broken leg, he could not work, and his relatives, if any, fed him very poorly, and as a result, the lad was slowly dying from starvation.
"Lie down," Stas did not delay and pointed to the mat spread out in front of his chair and the two sticks with the advertisement.
The pauper awkwardly bent down, trying to sit, and nearly fell. Only thanks to Ordyntsev, who caught him by the shoulder, did he manage to lie down smoothly.
Ordyntsev didn't raise his head, but even so, he felt all those interested gazes of the townspeople who tried to pretend that this didn't concern them.
'Humanity, a curious organism,' Stas thought with disgust, pulling off the bandages covered in blood, mud, and some stinking ointment. 'We've long since parted ways with monkeys, but instincts still lead us at a difficult moment. Kick the weakest monkey out of the cave to see if there are predators around. Send a female first into an unknown cave. If she's eaten, well, at least all the males are safe and can continue hunting.'
The leg under the bandages looked bad, but not critical. Surprisingly, there was no inflammation. But the broken bone had healed horribly, twisting the leg and causing terrible pain with any load.
"Healing technique. Insensate Demon," Stas quickly and quietly uttered the technique's name. A grayish mist ripped from his hands, which swiftly sucked into the injured lad's leg.
The tense pauper gasped in surprise and then tried to stand up to examine his leg. Presumably, it had been hurting him nonstop.
"Lie down," Stas cut him off. "The treatment is not over yet."
Mastering the art of Mad Demons had caused no problems.
The Insensate Demon technique turned out to be surprisingly compliant with his desires compared to the Healing Palm. Sometimes, it felt like the technique itself craved to be used.
Next, Stas felt the leg to determine if he had correctly understood the location of the fracture.
The nauseating crunch when the prana-strengthened hands of the warmaster broke the already fractured bones made the surrounding locals gasp in horror and step back a couple of steps. But then they eagerly moved forward again, expecting inevitable screams of pain.
Another amusing trait of humanity. Some people like to watch openly gruesome and scary things.
Their minds tell them it's wrong, but their subconscious pushes them forward anyway.
What a surprise it was for them when the patient calmly continued to lie down while Stas positioned his bones as nature intended.
Assured he had done everything correctly, Ordyntsev activated the Healing Palm.
"All right, you can stand up." Stas wasn't in a hurry, conserving every bit of prana and trying to use it for healing, so he only finished after about forty minutes.
Unlike training sessions with Jun, here, no one rushed him with explosive earth techniques.
"I... I can walk," the lad began walking first incredulously, then with increasing delight, cautiously relying on the mutilated leg. Now, he no longer needed the crutch.
"I warn you," Stas frowned. "Do not put excessive strain on the leg. I've aligned the bones, but the connection is weak."
"Thank you, master!"
And so began the ever-expanding and growing legend of a healer with amazingly white skin and a beautiful snow-white snake, which, undoubtedly, was a divine beast!
As the merchant's caravan moved slowly, and the owner himself spent several days in each town, couriers and just travelers spread the rumors further and further.
If only two people came to Stas in the first settlement, there were five in the second. And these were not paupers but those who could pay.
By the third town, their number was a couple of dozen, and by the fourth, he was forced to hire a dozen random ashigaru, who controlled the crowd surging around and pacified the most incomprehensible ones with spear shafts.
Even so, Stas tried to find among the bustling poor those whom he could help without pay. So far, his choice has always fallen only on sick children.
That's why he healed the son of that woman. In a normal situation, she couldn't afford treatment.
Needless to say, Stas now came to his comrades completely exhausted. Mei and Eiji looked at his actions with mixed feelings.
They were simultaneously annoyed that Ordyntsev was treating some peasants as if he was just a medic and not a warmaster, but on the other hand, they could not fail to notice the growth of his skills and prana level.
Day after day, spending his prana to zero, Stas diligently pumped his reserve.
By the seventh city, located on the border of Rashta and Sakoi, ordinary people were somehow gently pushed aside, and the esteemed healer was politely asked to proceed to a certain important master.
The most interesting part was that no one forced Ordyntsev. The offer was made with all due respect, and considering that the mission required them to protect the employer only between settlements, Stanislav could well afford to spend part of his free time as he wished.
Watching how respectfully the aristocrat's servants escorted him to their master's estate, it became clear that he was indeed needed by someone.
"Please, this way," the servants opened the door to the inner courtyard for Stas.
A neat stream and a pond with a red bridge thrown across it. Huge carps with red and white spots frolicked below and almost jumped out of the water.
A girl with a heavily whitened face and a complex hairstyle, who softly played an instrument resembling a harp, sat a little to the side, bowing her head low.
On the bridge stood the cause of the commotion. A man in his forties, with gray-black hair tied at the back of his head and a shaved crown, threw down maggots obtained from a decorated paper packet.
Besides these two, at each courtyard wall, three samurai stood unmoving and in full battle armor, so twelve people in total. Some faced inward, while the rest looked the opposite way. One glance at their armor, fearsome masks, and swords was enough to understand they were incredibly dangerous.
Despite the scorching sun, each of them was composed and motionless, ready to protect the employer from any threat.
'What kind of aristocrat lives so far from the daimyo's court, and where does he get such power?' Stas involuntarily became wary. One didn't have to be smart to realize that these samurai possessed the art of prana control.
An air of mystery surrounded him, a mystery he couldn't grasp, and Ordyntsev disliked what he couldn't understand.
"Master," Stas bowed politely, involuntarily glancing to the side.
"Come in, Shiro-kun," such a familiar address made Stas even more cautious. He certainly did not like what was happening. "I see you are consumed by questions. You may ask them." The man generously allowed, throwing another handful of maggots down.
"Why did you call for me?" Stas had no mood for flattery.
"It's obvious, Shiro-kun," the aristocrat smiled pleasantly. "Don't be surprised; your sensei is a very well-known person, even in the highest circles. And when I found out that he had students, one of whom made such a furor with his healing mastery, I knew it was fate. Especially since you were heading towards my hometown."
"Excuse me, master," Stas cautiously began; from some hints, it was easy to understand that the man standing before him had a direct connection to the daimyo's court. "But I still don't know your name. Of course, if you want to keep it secret, then I…"
"It's no secret, Shiro-kun," the man dismissed, tossing the rest of the maggots down and neatly folding the paper packet. "They call me Kero Sakai, a humble aristocrat of Rashta…"
Stas narrowed his eyes.
"…And also the chief advisor to our esteemed daimyo, may his reign be blessed for a thousand years."
"Master Sakai," Stas bowed deeply. "May his reign be blessed for a thousand years."
"And I called you, Shiro-kun, because of your unique approach to healing. You see, the warmasters with whom I have to communicate often consider ordinary people something like refuse, not worth spending time on. They don't say it, but it's all in their eyes."
Ordyntsev tried not to show his attitude to the topic raised, but judging by the smirk of his interlocutor, he failed.
"Nevertheless, I notice in your eyes that you are not like that. You started healing ordinary people and see nothing wrong in it. Believe me, this favorably distinguishes you from your colleagues. A person like you would be very valuable at court."
A common phrase, but how much suggestion was in it.
"But there's still something I can't understand. Tell me, what prompted you to start healing ordinary people? What motivated you to do so?"
"I don't see the point in dividing people by the presence or absence of prana, Sakai-sama," Stas replied politely. "What matters is only the authority and strength a person has. And strength, in my understanding, can be different. For example, you don't have prana, and I do, but that wouldn't stop me from dying at the hands of the samurai standing here by your single word."
Stas maintained a polite smile, wondering if he had chosen the right words?
"Bravo," the chief advisor clapped approvingly, allowing himself a slight smile. "Very sound words that I did not expect to hear from a warmaster."
"The reason... To become stronger, I need training in healing. By treating people, I earn money, respect, and training. I consider this the best solution."
"Ha-ha!" the advisor laughed heartily. "Thank you for the honest answer, Shiro-kun. And you've surprised me; I was expecting something more... complex from you. But this is even better."
A brief pause ensued, during which Stas patiently waited for the next questions.
"Hm," the advisor looked at his carps. "We've addressed your usefulness to our country, but what can you say about your companions, Mei and Eiji? Supreme warmasters don't often take students, so it must intrigue everyone around."
'Curses, his intelligence service isn't just collecting wages.'
"My companions are still too young to make any decisions," Stas lowered his head, shifting his gaze to the carp swimming in the pond. "Mei wishes to help her family achieve a fitting position. And Eiji simply wants to be recognized."
"Yes, the Eiko family. Their actions have benefited the country," Sakai nodded thoughtfully. "Such growth in trade has had a positive impact on the daimyo's treasury and on the activity of the road network. But I've talked your ear off, Shiro-kun."
The man slapped his forehead in a mockingly light manner.
"The old joints ache more with each passing year. Could you have a look at what's wrong with them? By the gods, I've heard many good things about warmaster medicine, even though the monks vehemently deny your capabilities."
"Happy to help," Stas stepped forward readily, stretching his face into his best benevolent smile.
"Who knows, Shiro-kun," the chief advisor drawled, sitting down in the chair and extending his ailing arm to Stas. "Perhaps with the help of the state, healers skilled in using prana could bring far more benefit than senselessly perishing on the battlefields? Think about this in your spare time, Shiro-kun. The daimyo's power is great, and he knows how to take care of useful people. Even to the detriment of the great clans."
The earthling's hand flared with green light, momentarily concealing the glint of emerald in the serpentine eyes.
"You are absolutely right, Sakai-sama. I need to contemplate your words carefully."