With the crisp morning wind sweeping down from the towering Wudang mountains, a solitary leaf was caught in the mystical currents. It danced and twirled, propelled by the fresh, invigorating gusts until it broke free, sailing over the vast Qinhai region.
The leaf's journey continued as it was drawn in by the ancient, hallowed air emanating from the legendary Kunlun range. It twisted and turned, pushed ever onward until at last it fluttered down, coming to rest beside a small, babbling creek.
Beside the gently flowing waters, two figures moved with the seamless grace of seasoned martial artist locked in spirited combat.
"HA!" A sharp cry of exertion cut through the serene air as a woman, clad in a white martial robe now damp with perspiration, unleashed a flurry of strikes. Her deep brown eyes narrowed with intense focus, glaring defiantly at her opponent. Though her breathing was labored, each inhalation fueled her unwavering determination.
The man responded with calm assurance, his movements precise and economical as he deflected and parried, never overexerting. Not a single bead of sweat marred his disciplined demeanor. "Let's rest for a moment," he spoke evenly.
The woman's jaw clenched, teeth grinding with frustration as she reluctantly accepted.
With a disdainful click of her tongue, she lowered herself cross-legged on the mossy bank, closing her eyes and embracing meditative stillness as she worked to regain her breath.
These two warriors were none other than Ji Wuye and Song Jia, who had been sparring relentlessly through the entire night and into the fresh dawn. Observing Song Jia's fatigue, Ji Wuye allowed a faint, self-satisfied smile to crease his lips as his gaze drifted to the shimmering, transparent panel hovering at the periphery of his vision.
image [https://i.ibb.co.com/FhShq7s/Notif-2.webp]
image [https://i.ibb.co.com/FhShq7s/Notif-2.webp]
image [https://i.ibb.co.com/FhShq7s/Notif-2.webp]
The same notification flickered across his vision a handful of times more as Ji Wuye inwardly processed the gains. 'It's quite a few; likely enough to reach the next grade after a few more sessions,' he mused.
With his abilities incrementally honed from the vigorous spar, Ji Wuye turned his attention to the carriage nearby. He approached and pulled open the door, eyes finding the coachman lying within, his features etched with shame and regret as his shallow breaths wheezed.
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"Uncle, how is your wound?" Ji Wuye asked.
As the coachman began to stir, struggling to right himself, Ji Wuye reached out a staying hand. "I'm sorry for the trouble, hero," the coachman murmured, words tinged with dismay.
"It's okay, Uncle," Ji Wuye soothed, leaning in to gently slip a finger beneath the coachman's wrist, monitoring his pulse with a practiced calm. His piercing crimson eyes then drifted down to study the white cloth bandages binding the man's wound.
'The gash is neither insignificant nor overly severe, but it will likely require a week, perhaps even a month, to fully mend,' Ji Wuye analyzed inwardly, his expression betraying no outward hints of the assessment unfolding behind his stoic facade.
Though the puncture in the coachman's chest had been stitched to hasten healing and prevent infection, any unnecessary movement risked tearing those delicate surgical threads.
Because of this, he also cannot use his Pressure Form Perfection Style, which could accelerate natural recuperative processes.
Which mean, for the foreseeable future, the duty of driving their carriage would fall solely to him.
A weary sigh escaped his lips as regret tinged his thoughts. 'I should have intervened sooner to prevent this,' Ji Wuye admonished himself. In his determination to challenge Song Jia's emotional fortitude, subjecting the coachman to heightened peril had been a calculated decision. Yet he had underestimated the severity of the threat, failing to accurately gauge the coachman's capabilities beforehand.
'‘To think the early stages of climbers were this weak. But well…’ he pondered, shaking his head almost imperceptibly. The coachman could hardly be faulted; their foes had proven formidable beyond Ji Wuye's expectations.
Recalling the overheard conversations at the Baiyun Village inn, Ji Wuye had presumed those three wandering martial artist were fleeing a significantly weaker threat, perhaps a cluster of smaller creatures. yet revelations of a deadly Dark Wolf pack painted a far graver picture.
‘Just how many men did they lose?’
...
The question cast a pall over Ji Wuye's thoughts as he emerged from the carriage, eyes scanning the path ahead where the main road curved alongside the babbling creek.
'The village should lie just ahead,' he mused.
Without his Pressure Form, Ji Wuye was limited solely to the Healing Art Primer techniques - sufficient for his own self-mending, but inadequate for tending the coachman's injuries.
Ji Wuye's musings were interrupted as his peripheral vision caught Song Jia emerging from her meditative state, her eyes fluttering open.
Seizing the opportunity, he turned towards her, one eyebrow quirking upwards as his crimson gaze swept over her form in an appraising onceover.
"Are you injured?" he asked. This girl had just endured the rigors of an all-night sparring session hot on the heels of that vicious battle. Yet remarkably, she appeared wholly unscathed.
The previous night, Ji Wuye had indeed confirmed the absence of any visible wounds, but had neglected to inquire about her condition more thoroughly. Now, curiosity gnawed at him.
"No? I have this," Song Jia replied with a slight tilt of her head. What happened next left Ji Wuye staring, dumbstruck, as an emerald radiance akin to pure, refined Qi coalesced around her outstretched palms. A soothing, familiar sensation of rejuvenation reminiscent of the Tower's own healing energies washed over him.
As the verdant glow faded, understanding dawned upon Ji Wuye's features.
A healing skill...that could be the only explanation for the restorative aura her hands had manifested. Realization blossomed as pieces fell into place.
'That's why...' His mind raced, recounting how Song Jia had shown no signs of mental fatigue or physical depletion despite him catalyzing her second movement's awakening.
It clarified why she still possessed sufficient energy reserves to spar relentlessly through the night.
Distant memories from the previous timeline surfaced - her well-earned moniker of "training maniac" suddenly made perfect sense. Blessed with such an extraordinary skill fueling her prodigious potential, who could hope to match her?
"That's great, Sister Song," Ji Wuye acknowledged, unable to mask the slight bite of annoyance that edged into his tone as realization struck him like a slap.
His eyebrows knitted as he continued, an uncharacteristic chill creeping into his words without his notice. "But why didn't you tell me?"
He had foolishly wasted medicinal pastes on her when this entire time she possessed her own means of rejuvenation. If she could simply heal herself, why had she also heal the coachman's wound?
"You didn't ask?"