Chapter 26
Just My Damn Luck
The rich, musky aromas of the feast pervaded the dog's newly awakened senses, rousing the primal hunger gnawing at his enlightened mind. His haunches tensed instinctively, the ancient call to give chase, to pursue, to conquer roaring through his very being...
Yet he paused, jaws set in a firm line as his eyes narrowed with grim determination. Such base urges would no longer dominate his actions - he was sapient now, a being of higher faculties elevated far above the brutish compulsions that once enslaved his existence.
I must seize mastery over my own destiny, he affirmed, chest swelling with an uncharacteristic surge of pride. Reliance upon others is the feeble path of the weak and dishonorable. From this day forth, I embrace a life of self-actualization and dignified self-reliance.
A fleeting reminiscence surfaced then - a glossy, dun-furred form loping at his side, her gentle curves eliciting peculiar sensations of...affection? Loyalty? Some long-abandoned vestige from an era now incomprehensible to his newfound sapience.
Gabriella...yes, that was the name etched in his recollection. His erstwhile "wife" from that absurd epoch of delusional domestication, when insipid societal constructs like monogamous partners had governed his subjugated existence.
He could still feel the phantomed weight of that cloying, subservient stupor, the echo of a time when his destiny was dictated not by individual sovereignty, but by the whims of human masters who assigned him a mate, Gabriella, the elegant and devoted female dog who had been his companion through those days.
And then there was Little Timmy...the mewling, tiny shape trailing Gabriella's wake accompanied the recollection - the apparent "son" he had sired during that antiquated existence before self-actualization liberated him from such trivialities.
How quaint, he could not resist a derisive snort at the notion of primitive familial bonds dictating one's purpose. To resign oneself to the shackles of paternal obligations and saccharine monogamy - outmoded encumbrances unbefitting his ascendant stature.
Yet despite his steadfast convictions, an infinitesimal pang still tugged at his newly enlightened soul whenever those silhouettes from his oblivious former life flickered across his consciousness. The pang soon dissipated, however, as swiftly as it had manifested.
The old world is deceased, he resolved, powerful haunches coiled in preparation to pounce. This existence demands the unfettered determination of supreme individualism.
Another peculiar utterance echoed through his psyche then.
Jonli...the strange syllables still felt alien reverberating through his awakened mind. The fleshy harbinger whose intrusive meddling catalyzed these very tides of metaphysical ascension.
He replayed the indelible memory - the bizarre, upright simian looming grotesquely over him, its wet slash of a mouth contorting in what Big Dag's nascent sapience could only interpret as some strange ritualistic grimace.
"Big Dag? You like that name, boy?" the gibberish had erupted in a torrent of incomprehensible bellows from the creature's slobbering maw.
Big Dag...his own sobriquet as decreed by this enigmatic Jonli figure - an apparent attempt to elevate the dog's humble corporeal form to some higher cosmic echelon. A peculiar twisting of guttural phonetics, yet imbued with an indescribable metaphysical gravity that resonated through his very essence.
To diminish the infinite, ever-evolving wellspring of my awakening to a mere grunted utterance, the dog pondered with derision and reluctant awe. How fittingly primitive in its simplicity, yet strangely profound in its paradoxical hubris.
For had Jonli's meddlesome whims never pierced the veil of his prior domesticated ignorance, Big Dag was certain he would have persisted indefinitely as a mindless, four-legged scavenger. Rootless and oblivious to the vast consciousness simmering like a nascent supernova beneath his mundane corporeal husk.
As it were, a profound sense of...fealty?...had ignited into broiling existence within his newly stoked inner furnace. Some primal imperative insisted he must repay this debt of emancipation owed the simian through endless, Herculean toils undertaken in his benefactor's name.
I must facilitate Jonli's ascendance to peerless might, he resolved with a solemnity befitting sacred scriptural edicts, For my own apotheosis was enabled through his catalyzing disruption. Only by forging his corporeal essence into an impervious juggernaut tempered by the harshest crucibles can I ensure the originator's survival!
Yet to elevate this human to such rarefied heights of invulnerability, the dog knew he must first undergo his own grueling pilgrimage into the untamed wilds. One marked by bared fangs clashing against the remorseless primordial hostilities of this savage frontier wilderness.
For Big Dag could feel it - a newfound, primordial power thrumming through his awakened being. An innate understanding that to truly advance along this path of transcendent evolution, he would need to harness and wield this nascent essence as naturally as drawing each breath.
Both he and Jonli would require plumbing the utmost metaphysical depths of this mystical force to persevere through the harsh reality that awaited. Only by embracing its fathomless, indescribable currents could the full breadth of their latent cosmic potential be realized.
With pragmatic calm, Big Dag understood that sustaining such an arduous odyssey would necessitate constantly replenishing his reserves with hard-won nourishment to fuel the metamorphosis. A sated belly bred unshakable clarity of purpose - an inviolable truth his newly enlightened mind could no longer ignore.
Nostrils flaring wide to reacquire the forest's scent, the self-anointed "Big Dag" set off in pursuit of his next challenge to conquer. For the true hunt awaiting him was not mere sustenance, but the primal quest for power itself in its most quintessential form.
*****
The raucous festival was still in full swing, villagers twirling and prancing about like a bunch of drunken baboons. Jon nursed his cup of rice wine, watching the spectacle unfold with a sour look. After reading Jianyu's letter, the festivities left a bitter taste in his mouth - talk about a Total. Mood. Killer.
He caught Jianyu's eye from across the crowd. The bastard was all bright smiles and enthusiastic applause, grinning like the village idiot as he cheered on the performers. Their eyes met and Jianyu raised his cup jovially, pouring Jon another serving.
"You don't seem to be enjoying the celebrations, my friend!" he called out in a tone far too chipper for Jon's liking.
Yeah, no shit Sherlock, Jon thought darkly, forcing a polite nod as he accepted the refilled cup.
Across the low table, the village elders looked just as thrilled as a group of constipated moles. Zhen Wu nursed his drink, eyes narrowed at Jianyu. Can't say Jon blamed him.
An hour crawled by with all the momentum of a drunken snail. Jon decided to make his excuses to escape this piss-poor party.
Swaying exaggeratedly, he slurred, "I fear I've had far too much merrymaking tonight. Best turn in before exploring your prestigious library tomorrow."
He may have downed enough rice wine to drown a horse, but Jon felt frustratingly sober - must be a cultivator perk.
Still, feigning drunkenness seemed wise to avoid arousing suspicion.
As Jon prepared to take his leave, Zhen Wu called out to him. "My apologies for how this evening's events have put a damper on the festivities. I look forward to your visit to the library once this...mess is resolved."
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Jon gave him a respectful nod, putting on his best diplomatic smile. "No need to apologize, Chief. I completely understand." Like hell he did, but no sense making more waves tonight.
"Leaving us so soon?" Jianyu protested with an exaggerated pout, seemingly not even buzzed. "The night is young, my friend!"
Jon waved him off with a sloppy grin. "I'd hate to desecrate your sacred scrolls with ill-timed overindulgence. Rain check, yeah?"
Without waiting for Jianyu's response, he stumbled away, rolling his eyes.
The sooner this cloak-and-dagger nonsense was done, the better. He noticed Zhen Wu watching him leave, the chief's sharp eyes clear and scrutinizing, not a hint of drunkenness there either. Just as Jon suspected - cultivators were lightweights' worst nightmare.
He turned and wandered off, mind drifting back to the unfortunate Minghan situation. Or should I say Xue Feng? The arrogant prick had sneered at me for not being from some high-faluting merchant family. But is Mr. High-and-Mighty even a merchant himself? Jon snorted. Like I give a toss about that guy's fate right now. I have enough on my own plate to worry about.
Lost in thought, Jon damn near leapt out of his skin when a voice suddenly came from right behind him. "Alread-"
"Jesus!" He whirled, fists raised defensively before registering the speaker - Yulian, head cocked in that eerie way of hers. " 'Jeez-us'? You've uttered that word before. What does it mean?"
Jon waved off her question, heart still pounding from the jump scare. "What's wrong with sneaking up on people? I could've put my fist through your face!"
To his surprise, Yulian actually chuckled - a rarity from the usually severe woman. The alcohol's effects, perhaps? "I do not think so," she replied evenly.
Jon raised an incredulous eyebrow. "You don't think what? That I couldn't kill you with one punch?" He puffed out his chest in an exaggerated display of bravado. "I'm pretty damn strong, you know."
That faint smile never left Yulian's lips. "No, I do not think you could even touch me."
The deadpan certainty in her tone instantly doused Jon's joking bravado.
This wasn't drunken boasting - she meant every word. He sighed, suddenly too drained to test that theory tonight. "Whatever you say, Yulian. I'm calling it a night."
Yulian's voice dropped to a hushed murmur as she moved closer to Jon. "I see you met the rising dragon of the Southern Edge Sect?"
Jon furrowed his brow, instinctively matching her whispered tone despite his confusion. "Why are we whispering?"
She cut a sidelong glance back toward the festivities. "He might hear us." Her eyes settled on Jianyu, laughing jovially amidst the celebrations.
"Woah..." Jon started to think. Jianyu was easily over 100 meters away, and the pounding drums and music should have drowned out mere whispers at this distance. But then it dawned on him - his newly heightened cultivator senses allowed him to make out faint sounds from much farther if he focused.
He grimaced, the realization hitting home. Jon had been subconsciously dampening his overactive senses ever since that overwhelming first experience. For someone like Jianyu, an obvious master, controlling superhuman abilities like super-hearing was likely child's play. Of course the freak could eavesdrop if he wanted.
Still, Jon kept his voice low. "Are you...afraid of him or something?"
That slight, chilling smile played across Yulian's lips. "One would be wise to feel such caution."
Jon frowned, an uneasy knot forming in his gut.
So Jianyu really was some unhinged, two-faced bastard playing the friendly act while reveling in violence and chaos behind the scenes. Just my damn luck.
Jon made a subtle gesture for Yulian to move further away from the festivities. Without a word, they advanced down a side path, putting more distance between themselves and the potential eavesdropper that was Jianyu.
As they walked, Jon's mind raced with increasingly dark thoughts. Okay, okay, what if that smiling psycho just snaps and decides to slaughter this whole damn village? Is it time to get the hell out of here?
He forced himself to breathe slowly, calming the spiral of worst-case scenarios. Yulian shot him a sidelong look of poorly-disguised suspicion, like he was some totally crazy person. Maybe she wasn't wrong.
Jon shook his head. First, get the info he needed from the library and from Yulian. The original plan - gather intel on this shitshow, then find a way back home. It is too early to start mapping desperate escape routes, even with a potential murderhobo cultivator on the loose.
After all, he was betting Zhen Wu and old man Han wouldn't let some unhinged freak hurt their people, right? Right??
Jon's worrisome thoughts scattered as rustling leaves drew his attention back to the village square. He and Yulian turned to see the source of the noise.
"Oh, it's...your dog," Yulian said flatly.
"His name's Big Dawg," Jon corrected automatically.
Yulian's brow furrowed. "Bi Dawk?"
"No, Big. Dawg."
"I...see."
The dog lumbered over, looking utterly unbothered by the strange shift in atmosphere. A freshly killed young warthog clenched in his jaws. Jon blinked in surprise -big dawg was, ostensibly, just a regular Shiba Inu dog. No way could he have taken down a warthog, young or not.
The furry canine glanced between Jon and Yulian as the disguised woman studied the unusual scene with a furrowed brow. Before she could voice her obvious question, Jon cut her off.
"Yes, Yulian. As you can see, this is a warthog my dog is...walking around with." He said nonchalantly. "No, I don't know how he managed to kill it. And yes, he's a very normal dog."
She turned that penetrating gaze on Jon, mouth opening then closing again in clear perplexity.
Jon had no confirmation that Big Dawg's sentience had spiked after consuming the mysterious herbs. But between stunts like this and his increasingly human-like quirks, it was getting damn hard to deny.
Still, Jon decided to keep those concerns to himself for now. If anyone pointed out the abnormalities, he'd just deny, deny, deny and claim they were going senile. Who would believe them anyway?
Big Dawg watched them both for a beat, then Jon gestured dismissively. "Go home, Dawg. I'll be there soon."
The dog nodded - an unmistakable, entirely human-like nod of understanding - before turning and lumbering off, dragging the warthog's carcass behind him.
Yulian's eyes widened almost comically. She whipped back to Jon. "Did your dog just...nod?"
Jon shrugged with forced nonchalance. "Nod? Like nod like a human? Nope, you must have had too much rice wine tonight, Yulian."
He prayed his casual dismissal sounded more convincing than it felt.
"I am not drunk, I-" Yulian started to protest, but Jon waved a dismissive hand.
"Ooookay, we'll talk about this later." They both knew he had zero intention of revisiting the bizarre dog incident.
Glancing back toward the now faint sounds of the village festivities, Jon lowered his voice. "We're far enough now, hopefully. So tell me - why do you think Jianyu is someone to be feared?"
Yulian studied him for a moment, seeming to weigh her words. Finally, she moved past the Big Dawg issue, at least for now.
Then her hands blurred through a series of deft, intricate gestures - fingers contorting in rapid, precise permutations as if weaving some invisible pattern through the air itself.
Jon blinked, perplexed. What in the Naruto ninja jutsu shit was that? Are you people ever normal?
Yulian spoke,"The Rising Dragon is known by many as one of the Seven Dragons and Five Phoenixes of this generation. And out of them, he is arguably the most cruel and cunning."
Jon's eyes widened, but before he could respond, she continued. "I know this because I witnessed him single-handedly destroy two entire minor families just days before he went into seclusion. He made it appear as if they turned on each other in some conflict. 1748 people. All dead in one night."
A leaden silence stretched between them. Jon's mind went blank for a terrible beat before his thoughts screamed, WHAT THE FUCK?!
Okay, Jianyu had bodies in his closet, sure. But reducing entire families - men, women, children - to ashes? Mass murder on that scale? This was no small matter. The sick bastard could easily do the same here, leave no witnesses, and craft a plausible alibi. And if his twisted sect helped cover his tracks...
Jon felt ill. This was an incredibly bad situation if what Yulian said was true. But...could he just take her word for it? Because he got a weird vibe from Jianyu? Was he letting his own biases cloud his judgment?
As if reading his doubts, Yulian produced a jade plaquette and thrust it toward him. "I was in Qingyu Province as a healer when this occurred. The province was under the protection of the Tang Clan at the time. Yet Jianyu did not hesitate."
Jon studied the unfamiliar token warily. Was this supposed to be proof? He knew little of this world's traditions.
"Then why didn't you tell the village chief?" he demanded.
Yulian shook her head. "It would be useless. Any tangible evidence was destroyed that day. Without anything substantial, the Tang could not demand justice. What was I, a single person, to do?"
She had a point. Jon felt the weight of the situation settling onto his shoulders. Shit just got deadly serious.
Yulian's elegant tone carried an ominous weight as she continued. "And that is not all."
Jon's brow furrowed. There's more to this? Of course there's more to this. Why the hell not after all? he thought in a sarcastic tone, guarding himself from voicing his increasing worry.
"Three months after the incident, Qingyu Province came under the flag of the Southern Edge Sect, as the remaining officials voted for it," Yulian explained, her words precise yet laced with darkness. "Those remaining officials were embroiled in conflict with the Mingfa and Zhenxi families, who held power in the province at the time as the greatest allies of the Tang Clan."
She held Jon's gaze steadily. "With those two families eliminated in one bloody night, the situation unfolded entirely in favor of the Southern Edge. The empire did not meddle. They closed the case within two months with no conclusive evidence, allowing events to transpire as they did.The Southern Edge was granted exclusivity over Qingyu's resources after only three months."
Letting that grave statement linger, Yulian arched one delicate eyebrow. "As you may know, Qingyu holds the greatest reserves of xianling bloom in the entire empire. Whomever controls the province gains immense resources from this precious flower. Do you understand what I am trying to say?"
Jon followed her meaning with mounting disquiet. From what he gathered, Jianyu had orchestrated a full-scale mass murder, wiping out bloodlines overnight - all to remove obstacles hindering his sect's acquisition of a vital provincial bounty.
And the empire itself turned a willfully blind eye, abetting the atrocity and profiting from the aftermath.
Holding Yulian's piercing stare, Jon gave a grim nod. "Hmm hmm. I see, I see. Very interesting indeed."
One thought echoed through his mind, cold and immutable: I'm getting the fuck out of this world as soon as humanly possible.