A Guide to Self-Rescue in the Cultivation World - Chapter 23

The darkness still heavily shrouded her.

Her consciousness drifted in a void of nothingness, occasionally catching fuzzy sounds from the outside world: low conversation, the bubbling of a boiling medicinal pot, and a faint, almost imperceptible warmth vaguely lingering at the edge of her perception.

After an unknown length of time, Zhou Suyao’s eyelids fluttered with great difficulty.

The light pierced her thin eyelids, bringing a stinging, sour pain.

She slowly opened her eyes and found herself lying in her own familiar bamboo hut on the mountain peak. Outside the window, she saw the familiar churning sea of clouds and the rustling of bamboo leaves.

She struggled to sit up, but every muscle and bone in her body screamed with pain. She frowned, but using the edge of the bed for support, she forced herself into an upright position.

Although her spiritual energy was currently as dry as a cracked riverbed, the beating of her heart in her chest gave her the secure relief of having survived a great calamity.

“You’re awake?”

A low, hoarse voice sounded from the bed. Zhou Suyao could hear the concern in the tone, along with a hint of deliberately suppressed anxiety.

Turning her head, she met Qu Ming Wu’s eyes.

He sat on the bamboo stool beside the bed, his tall figure looking somewhat fatigued. In his hand was a bowl of bitter-smelling medicinal broth.

“Second Senior Brother…” she spoke, her voice so raspy it startled even her.

Qu Ming Wu didn’t say anything, but with a somewhat stiff movement, he brought the bowl to her lips. The bitter medicine slid down her throat, causing a sharp sting, yet also bringing a warm current to her body.

After he set the empty bowl down, her gaze passed over Qu Ming Wu’s shoulder and landed on the figure quietly standing at the doorway.

It was Zhou Shan Yuan.

He still looked thin and pale, his large robes appearing empty. But his eyes were watching her with a gentle warmth.

Time seemed to stretch in this moment.

Zhou Suyao opened her mouth, but she didn’t know what should say.

The ancient immortal banished to the human world in the illusion, the one who pulled himself out of the fray to conjure a peach tree phantom for her on the battlefield… One was the person who stood idly by during the genocide of the Demon Clan, and the other was the person who prioritized her safety over his own.

Who exactly was her Eldest Senior Brother? And what was his true nature?

She didn’t dare to ask, and she didn’t dare to think about it.

Even a frank woman like her finally understood that day the meaning of having too many words left unsaid.

It was Eldest Senior Brother who finally broke the silence.

He walked closer, his slender fingers gently resting on her pulse, and a gentle spiritual energy probed within, carefully examining her injuries.

“Your meridians are severely damaged, and your spiritual energy is completely depleted. Thankfully, your foundation remains intact. With a few months of recuperation, you can be restored. Suyao, you gave us quite a fright this time.”

I Zhou Suyao was stunned.

Such a gentle, ethereal immortal blocked the words in her throat. She didn’t know how to reply.

“Thank you, Second Senior Brother. Thank you… Eldest Senior Brother,” she finally lowered her eyes, avoiding Zhou Shan Yuan’s gaze, which seemed capable of seeing through everything, and whispered her thanks.

The finger Zhou Shan Yuan had on her pulse paused slightly, but he continued to noncommittally channel his gentle spiritual energy into her body. He was like someone repairing a precious piece of jade, meticulously soothing her damaged meridians, filling her dry dantian, until he carefully touched her spiritual core.

But within that core seemed to be a familiar power.

He withdrew his fingertip as if he’d received an electric shock, gently tracing Zhou Suyao’s wrist with an expression of disbelief.

The touch felt like a feather lightly brushing her skin. Zhou Suyao’s heart fluttered. She looked up sharply but only saw Eldest Senior Brother’s eyes, which seemed to have become cold again.

“You should rest now,” Zhou Shan Yuan said faintly, and then left without another word.

This abrupt change left Qu Ming Wu bewildered. He anxiously started to call out to him, but was stopped by Zhou Suyao pulling on his sleeve.

“Eldest Senior Brother must have his reasons,” she said softly. “By the way… Second Senior Brother, do you know how Ming Luo is? And… that Xuan Yangming.”

“Xuan Yangming… he’s likely dead. Master completely destroyed one of his ribs, preventing him from ever putting his skin suit back on. Later, we checked, and all we saw was a pile of white bones.”

“As for Ming Luo…” He paused. “Master originally wanted her to rest here a bit longer, but she refused. Now, we don’t know where she is.”

Seeing Zhou Suyao’s face instantly turn pale, Qu Ming Wu quickly reassured her: “You should rest now. Since Ming Luo decided to leave, she must have been prepared. She wouldn’t act rashly.”

“Get some good rest.”The  Second Senior Brother stood up, giving her no further chance to ask questions. His large robe brushed the floor, bringing a slight chill of wind. “Your recovery is the most important thing. The rest of the matters can wait until you regain some strength.”

“Alright,” Zhou Suyao nodded. “Second Senior Brother, please take care of yourself too.”

“Naturally.”

With that, he also turned and slowly walked out of the bamboo hut.

Watching him leave, Zhou Suyao turned her gaze to the peaceful bamboo forest outside the window.

She suddenly remembered a time many years ago.

It was shortly after she first entered the Chengxian Dao. Her cultivation was shallow, and her temper was quick. During a sword practice session, she was restless and her sword moves were frantic, resulting in her haphazardly chopping several bamboo branches.

The Eldest Senior Brother appeared beside her; she didn’t know when, holding a freshly snapped peach blossom branch, still covered with the dew from the morning mist.

“Suyao,” his voice was low, like a thick, impenetrable fog in early spring. “The sword is not about speed, and certainly not about aggression.”

Zhou Suyao stopped in confusion.

She watched him gently lift the peach branch in his hand. There was no earth-shattering force, no sharp sword qi. In fact, he hadn’t even injected spiritual energy into the peach branch yet; he simply pointed it forward with extreme slowness.

But Zhou Suyao felt it all the same.

The moment the tip of the peach branch extended, she felt the surrounding air instantly solidify. All the wild sword qi she had been swinging, her restless mood, and even the spiritual power surging within her body.

All were gently and absolutely calmed by an unseen force in that single moment.

Time seemed to stand still for an instant.

When the peach branch was withdrawn, everything returned to normal. But Zhou Suyao stood there, stunned. It seemed that only then did she first vaguely realize what true power was.

It was a form of spiritual energy she had never conceived of, one that seemed capable of encompassing the entire world in a single instant.

She gently drew back her gaze and turned her attention to the sword rack not far away. Perhaps illness made one more sentimental, for she inexplicably recalled the day Master took her in as a disciple.

That day, Master brought her to a sword tomb in the forbidden area of the back mountain. She saw countless dilapidated ancient swords diagonally plunged between the jagged rocks, seemingly exuding a desolate, tragic aura. Master walked slowly among them, finally stopping before a dust-covered, cracked, broken sword.

“This sword is named ‘Heart Keeper’ (Shouxin),” Master’s voice carried an inexplicable weariness. “The one who wields this sword must guard their heart, clarify their nature, and maintain righteousness. Even amidst myriad calamities, you must press forward resolutely and guard what you hold dear.”

His withered fingers brushed the cold, broken sword. Instantly, she heard the cracked blade emit an extremely faint but clear vibration.

“Today, I pass this sword on to you. Even though this sword no longer has the value to attack others, I want you to remember and cherish this: the sword can break, but your will must not falter. The ultimate destination of the sword in your hand is determined by your original heart.”

In that brief moment, Zhou Suyao seemed to understand what inheritance truly meant. Thereafter, in her countless trials, what supported her was the formless sword intent carried by this broken sword.

However…

The people who had given her warmth since she arrived in this strange world, her Master and her Senior Brothers, all seemed to be hiding a thousand and one secrets from her.

She withdrew her gaze, a touch of melancholy in her eyes, only to smell that nauseating medicinal odor again. Although the bowl was empty, the lingering bitterness still faintly permeated the room.

She suddenly remembered an even earlier time. It was shortly after she established her foundation. She had followed Third Senior Brother down the mountain to gather herbs but had been poisoned by a strange toxin. By the time she and Third Senior Brother stumbled back to the mountain gate, she was barely clinging to life.

She remembered curling up on the cold bamboo bed, her body alternating between scorching heat and icy chills, tormented by pain. In her daze, she suddenly felt someone prying open her mouth. Instantly, an incredibly pungent and bitter herbal taste rushed into her mouth and throat.

“Cough… cough, cough…!”

She choked, tears streaming down her face, struggling painfully.

Beside her, Qu Ming Wu’s seemingly perpetual impatient growl sounded, “Shut up! Swallow it! If you want to die, keep coughing.”

Before his voice faded, she heard Third Senior Brother’s worried query: “Is that really okay… what if she chokes?”

The two men’s low conversation seemed to become like buzzing ants in her ears. The medicine was overwhelmingly potent, burning her meridians, almost making her faint from the pain.

But after that intense agony, the poison in her body seemed genuinely to be forcibly expelled by the overbearing medicinal power.

The next morning, she weakly opened her eyes. She saw Second Senior Brother’s tall figure leaning against the wall beside her window, while Third Senior Brother was less gracefully curled up in the corner.

They seemed to have stayed up all night watching over her.

She noticed deep dark circles under Second Senior Brother’s eyes, and his expression was even grumpier than usual. At Third Senior Brother’s feet was an empty, black jar that reeked of the strong medicine.

When Second Senior Brother saw she was awake, he merely gave her a cold glance and sneered, “Tough life you’ve got.” Then he turned and left, leaving only a cold back view.

Third Senior Brother, woken by the commotion, was faced with this awkward scene. He could only yell for her to take her medicine on time while chasing after Second Senior Brother’s retreating figure.

But Zhou Suyao knew that the life-saving, toxin-suppressing medicinal soup in the jar—

Must have been procured by the two Senior Brothers from somewhere, likely at no small cost.

Yet…

These people, her Master and Senior Brothers, whom she considered family.

Did they truly consider her family in return?

The answer in her heart was no.

The resolute face she saw in the illusion when he faced Ning Qinggui made it impossible for her to reconcile that person with the unkempt old man she knew today.

And Eldest Senior Brother. The one who treated her gently and courteously, always thinking of her, and who was always like an exiled immortal.

Yet, in the illusion, he stood by and did nothing during the genocide of the Demon Clan.

Which was the real them?

Her head ached fiercely. She closed her eyes slightly, forcing herself to stop thinking.