Ye Wuji slowly opened his eyes and stared at the wooden ceiling above him. He then turned his head to the left and saw Meiyin sitting beside the bed with her head on the edge. She was sound asleep.
Her breathing was slow, her cheeks were streaked with dried tears, and she looked exhausted.
He instinctively lifted his hand toward her, then froze in midair.
"Better not disturb her," he thought, noticing the dark circles under her eyes, "She's probably been awake the whole time."
Wuji shifted his weight and sat up. Every muscle in his body felt like it had been beaten again and again. He gritted his teeth and stood up.
He then slowly walked to the far side of the small hut, picked up a wooden mug, and drank the water inside in quiet, long gulps.
It only soothed his throat and cleared the fog in his head, but it did nothing for the burning hunger in his stomach, and the desire the cells for energy to heal his body.
He stepped out of the hut and squinted against the morning sunlight. A few villagers were scattered about, going about their work.
As soon as they saw him, however, they turned to each other and began to whisper to each other.
He ignored them and let them talk. Still limping, he made his way toward the forest. He wanted to gather wild fruit to ease his hunger.
Just before reaching the village exit, he remembered, "The village chief still owes me five hundred gold coins. With that money, I could buy enough meat to fuel my cell regeneration trait. I can't always be limping. I have to heal this leg."
He immediately turned around and headed toward the chief's hut. Two minutes later, he arrived but found the chief was not inside.
Instead, an eleven-year-old girl was sitting comfortably on the chief's chair, her legs swinging.
"Where is the chief?" Wuji asked, stepping into the doorway.
When she looked up and saw Wuji, her eyes widened and her mouth twisted into a pout. "You! You're the mean man! The one who wanted to hurt Brother Chen!"
She pointed at him, voice rising as if she expected someone to come save her just for saying it.
Wuji blinked, confused, then realized, "Oh! A little fan girl of the bastard."
He stepped forward slowly, his voice growing colder. "Answer the question. Where is the village chief?" He wasn't there to argue with children, especially since he was hungry.
Something in his tone made the girl shrink back slightly. The rant she had been about to start died in her throat.
She froze for a moment under his cold gaze. Then, her expression changed and she screamed.
"Help! The bad man is here again! He wants to hurt Brother Chen!"
Her voice echoed through the courtyard. In seconds, footsteps approached. Two villagers rushed over, carrying tools and looking worried.
"What's going on here?" one of them barked.
The girl pointed at Wuji, her eyes wide and tear-bright. "He yelled at me! He looked really scary! I don't like him!" She stomped her foot for good measure, her voice high and teary. "He came in and was mean! I don't want him in Grandpa's home."
Wuji just observed her tantrum then looked at the two men, then at the girl, and let out a slow breath.
"I asked a question," he said in a low, flat voice. "Where is the chief?"
One of the men stepped forward and raised a hand slightly, as if to warn him.
"Why should we tell you anything after what you did? You're lucky you're even walking around free."
"What exactly did I do?" he asked, his voice steady. "Because the last time I checked, I was the one who got beaten and robbed."
"You're just jealous 'cause Chen Yi's going to the sect," the other man answered with righteous indignation.
"Who told you that?" Wuji asked. They didn't answer, but looked at each other instead.
"The chief owes me five hundred gold coins. If you're not him, don't get in my way," he said, not waiting for an answer.
Their faces said it all. The chief had twisted the truth, turning the victim into the threat and of course, they'd believe him. They were villagers, not thinkers.
As time passed, more villagers gathered, drawn by the noise. Some came with their tools in hand; others came empty-handed. They whispered behind their hands and half-covered mouths.
"Is that Ye Wuji again?"
"What now?"
"Didn't he collapse yesterday? Why is he causing trouble again?"
Wuji stood motionless in the doorway. His expression was calm, but his stomach burned with hunger.
The two men in front of him were tense and trying to stand their ground, but neither dared to approach.
Then, a new voice cut through the murmuring crowd. "What's going on here?"
Chen Yi emerged from the right path, looking calm and freshly bathed. He was wearing cleaner robes than yesterday.
His expression was perfectly composed until he saw Wuji. "You again?" he said angrily.
Wuji didn't reply; he just watched.
Chen Yi turned to the girl and asked gently, "What happened, Little Wan?"
"Brother Chen, he barged in and scared me," she said dramatically. "He looked like he was going to hit me."
Chen Yi frowned and looked at Wuji. "Is that true? Can't you control yourself around children now?"
Wuji finally spoke, his tone like ice. "You talk about control like you didn't beat your best friend and rob his house. What a hypocrite."
The crowd fell silent again. All eyes bounced between the two of them.
Chen Yi stepped forward and said in a low tone, "That matter has been resolved. For the record, I was never your friend."
Wuji's eyes narrowed. The remark wasn't aimed at him; it was for Yin Li, so it didn't bother him in the slightest.
"I didn't come for friendship," Wuji said coldly. "I came for what your master promised me. I don't have the patience. Where is he?"
Just then, the village chief arrived, walking briskly from the far end of the path. He held a scroll in one hand and feigned surprise.
"Ay-i? What's all this noise?"
Before Chen Yi could answer, Wuji turned his gaze to the chief and said coldly, "What about the five hundred gold coins?"
The chief stopped mid-step, and his eyes flicked to the gathered crowd. Then he looked back at Wuji. "Ah, yes. About that... You'll have to forgive me. I don't keep that kind of money lying around."
Wuji said nothing; he simply stared at the chief.
The chief continued smoothly. "Most of my coins are in the bank in town. You know how it is—safer that way. I can't access them without a formal request."
He reached into his sleeve and pulled out a small pouch. "But I can give you this for now."
He tossed the pouch toward Wuji. It landed softly on his broken feet, jingling.
"Five gold coins, just enough to help you recover while I sort the rest out."
There was a faint murmur in the crowd. "I think the chief is right, no one keeps that kind of money around."
"Yeah, even my husband, who is a merchant, keeps all our money in the bank," said a middle-aged woman.
Wuji didn't move; the villagers' clueless remarks weren't worth his attention.
He stared at the pouch for a long second.
Then he looked at the chief. Then he looked at Chen Yi, who was smiling faintly in the background.
"So this is how you want to play, huh? Giving me just enough to keep me quiet? But never enough to stand up. Well, you underestimated me," he thought.
"What about the cultivation?" he asked.
"First, I have to see if you have spirit root before we can discuss cultivation," the chief said.
"What if I don't have this so-called spirit root?" Wuji asked, keeping his tone neutral. "Even if I do, he might lie about it," he thought.
The village chief nodded as if he had already considered that possibility.
"If you don't, then I'll have to transfer you to the Fifth Elder. He practices martial arts."
"Fine," Wuji said, his stomach growling again. "How do we take the test? I'm kind of in a hurry."
The chief stepped closer and lifted one hand calmly.
"Give me your hand. I'll inject a thread of my qi into your body. If it lingers—even faintly—then you have a spirit root. If not, then you don't."
Wuji slowly extended his right hand, and the chief grasped his wrist.
Instantly, Wuji felt as if he had been shackled by mountain roots: cold, immovable, and unyielding. No matter how hard he tried, his wrist wouldn't budge.
His breath hitched. "Is this the real difference between a cultivator and a mortal? In just two days, Chen Yi will become one of them..."
His thoughts were interrupted as a cool sensation slid through his body, from his wrist, down his arm, and into his abdomen.
Then, suddenly, his cells reacted deep inside him. The moment the chief's qi entered his system, his white blood cells surged as if spotting a foreign invader.
They swarmed it, absorbed it, and exploded.
Pain lanced through his chest as he coughed violently, blood splattering out of his mouth.
The chief, immediately stepped back just in time, avoiding the crimson spray.
"What's going on? I've never seen a situation like this. Why is he coughing up blood all of a sudden?" the chief thought, puzzled.
Wuji collapsed to the ground, kneeling on one knee. "Damn! This old man injured me secretly," he cursed inwardly.
What he didn't know was that his Cell Domination talent was overbearing; it wouldn't allow anything foreign to exist in his body.
And now that he knew the true power of cultivators, he didn't dare go against the chief. It would be foolish to anger someone who could easily snap his neck.
"Unfortunately," he said, loud enough for the crowd to hear, "you don't have a spirit root. Maybe you should wait until the sect cultivators arrive, they have proper artifacts for this sort of thing."
Hearing this, Wuji became even more dejected.
Meanwhile, Chen Yi loosened his stiff expression.
He looked at Wuji as if they were from completely different worlds that would never intersect.
"Even if the sect cultivators find a spirit root in him, there's no way it would be of a quality that rivals mine," he thought, smiling at Wuji's misfortune.
"What? He doesn't have a spirit root? Why was he acting so special? Reap what you sow, idiot," one of Chen Yi's friends, who was also Yin Li's childhood friend, said out loud.
Some of the villagers chuckled, while others just shook their heads and turned around to leave.
"Don't be sad," the chief said in a voice loud enough for the crowd to hear, "Go to the Fifth Elder and tell him I sent you. He'll teach you martial arts."
Inside, however, he was satisfied.
"The only future you have is as a martial artist. A mortal. An ant compared to us cultivators."
Wuji stood up slowly, pressing his hand against his bruised chest.
The pouch of five gold coins hung loosely from his waist and clinked with his every move.
"First, I need to eat," he thought. His stomach ached. "Especially meat. I've been starving for days. And I should buy Meiyin some clothes."
The chief's words didn't bother him. He still had hope that the cultivators from the sect would discover his spirit root. The martial path would be his last option.
Without another word, he turned and limped toward the back of the village, where a few modest shops stood.
The crowd had already moved on behind him.
Chen Yi stepped up beside the chief, the little girl trailing behind him.
"Don't worry about him," the chief said, patting Chen Yi on the shoulder. "You're from a different world now. Even thinking about him would hinder your progress."
"Okay, Grandpa," Chen Yi replied with a soft smile, glancing at the little girl. "I guess I won't be alone in the sect, with Wan'er there too."
The chief laughed heartily.
"Hahaha! Indeed! Our village is truly blessed!"
"Three talented seedlings, all under my care. With you in the sect's favor, our little village might grow into a town, or maybe even a city, backed by immortal cultivators themselves!"
The nearby villagers overheard the chief boasting and lit up with excitement.
They rushed off, shouting the chief's words to others, eager to spread the "good news."
As for Ye Wuji and his sister, they were no longer pitied, now, they were branded as obstacles to the village's rise—outsiders, ungrateful and unwanted.