Chương 51: Half given Half Earnt

Earth - Downtown Ramen Shop The lunch rush was in full swing, steam rising from countless bowls as Himari weaved between packed tables with practiced efficiency. Her bright smile never faltered despite being on her feet for six straight hours, delivering steaming bowls of ramen and collecting empty dishes with the cheerful energy that made her a customer favorite.

"Order up for table seven!" called Mrs. Tanaka from behind the counter.

"Coming!" Himari replied, balancing three bowls on her arms as she navigated toward a table of businessmen in expensive suits. They'd been drinking heavily, their voices growing louder and more obnoxious with each round of sake. As she bent to place the final bowl, one of the men's hand shot out and smacked her backside with a loud crack that made her stumble forward.

"Nice ass, sweetheart," he slurred with a drunk grin.

"How about you sit on my lap and we'll discuss your tip?" For a split second, Himari's mind went completely blank. Then Kira's consciousness surged forward like a tide of ice-cold fury. Grab the sake bottle. Smash it against the table edge. Drive the jagged glass through his carotid artery. He'll bleed out in thirty seconds. The violent imagery flashed through her mind with perfect clarity, complete with tactical analysis of angles, timing, and cleanup procedures.

Her hand actually twitched toward the sake bottle before her cheerful persona reasserted control.

"Oh my!" Himari giggled, her voice bright and innocent despite the rage burning in her chest.

"You're so silly! But please keep your hands to yourself, okay?" She bounced away from the table with exaggerated cuteness, her smile never wavering even as she fought the urge to demonstrate seventeen different ways to kill someone with chopsticks. Level 2 qi refining, she reminded herself as she walked to the counter, feeling the steady trickle of shadow qi flowing from Kira's body across the galactic divide. I could probably crush his windpipe with my bare hands now. But Mrs.

Tanaka needs my help more than I need to commit murder. The qi enhancement was subtle but noticeable—her reflexes were sharper, her stamina increased, her senses more acute. She could feel the energy signatures of every person in the restaurant, their emotions creating faint ripples in the ambient qi that her shadow-attuned consciousness could detect. Kira had countless techniques as an assassin that Himari had access to.

More interestingly, she'd been sensing familiar qi signatures during their "Meteor Shower Sect" training sessions. Tim's energy felt different now—more refined, with an underlying current that reminded her of water techniques. Riku's qi carried traces of something sharp and cutting, like the edge of a blade made manifest. They're definitely like me, Himari thought as she collected dirty dishes from another table. Probably split souls, probably cultivating somehow. But they haven't said anything, so I won't either.

The unspoken understanding worked perfectly for their group dynamic. They all knew something supernatural was happening, but they also respected each other's privacy enough not to pry.

"Himari-chan," Mrs. Tanaka called out, her voice carrying concern.

"Are you alright? Those men were very rude."

"I'm fine!" Himari replied with her trademark bright smile.

"Just drunk businessmen being silly. Nothing I can't handle!" Mrs. Tanaka nodded approvingly.

"You're such a strong girl. Most girls your age would have quit by now." If only she knew how strong, Himari thought with dark amusement. And how many different ways I could have handled that situation. As the lunch rush finally began to wind down, Himari found herself looking forward to that evening's dojo training. The Meteor Shower Sect had become her anchor to normalcy—a group of friends who accepted her and her secrets while probably harboring their own.

Best friends I've ever had, she reflected as she wiped down tables. Even if we're all probably intergalactic cultivation monsters. Cultivation World - Azure Sky City, Luxury Penthouse Kira reclined in the enormous crystal bathtub, her naked form submerged in water infused with rare cultivation herbs. The bathroom was a masterpiece of cultivation technology—formations that maintained perfect temperature, purified the water continuously, and channeled ambient qi to enhance the bathing experience.

A glass of vintage wine floated beside her. The view through the floor-to-ceiling windows showed the glittering sprawl of Azure Sky City stretching to the horizon, a testament to the wealth and power that came with her profession. But despite the luxury surrounding her, Kira's mind was focused entirely on the assassination contract that would determine her next month. Varek and Lia, she thought, reviewing the intelligence files projected in holographic displays around the tub.

Foundation Establishment level 4 and 5 respectively by now, if the reports are accurate. Both advancing rapidly under royal protection. The mission parameters were elegant in their simplicity—wait for the Inter-Realm Competitions to begin, then eliminate both targets during the chaos of the tournament. The Crimson Crater Kingdom's defenses were impenetrable for now, but the competitions would require them to allow outsiders into their territory.

The question is timing, Kira mused, taking a sip of wine as she studied tactical projections. Do I strike early, or wait to see what develops? The contract from the Corpse Cleansing Sect was clear—both targets needed to die, and the spatial artifact Lia carried needed to be retrieved. But there was no requirement that Kira personally perform the kills.

If another assassin, a tournament competitor, or even a random accident eliminated the targets first, she could simply collect the artifact and claim the full payment. Love what you're reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on. 5000 spirit stones for potentially doing nothing, she thought with satisfaction. If I'm patient and strategic about this. The smart play was to infiltrate the tournament as planned, but remain in observation mode unless absolutely necessary.

Let other forces exhaust themselves against the targets' defenses, let the tournament chaos create opportunities, and strike only when the moment was perfect. The wine was excellent, the bath perfectly relaxing, and the assassination contract was lucrative. All she had to do was remain patient, professional, and ready to capitalize on whatever opportunities the tournament provided.

The holographic displays flickered and dissolved as Kira closed her eyes, her mind already cataloging entry points, escape routes, and most importantly murder methods. Cultivation World - Body Destroying Sect, Departure Platform Zulu stood at the edge of the sect's landing platform, his transformed physique a testament to months of controlled self-destruction and reconstruction. At fifty percent completion of the first body refining stage, he was no longer entirely human.

His skin had taken on a metallic sheen from the iron essence infusions, while his bones were now denser than most metals. Scars crisscrossed his torso like a roadmap of deliberate damage, each one representing a breakthrough in his physical transformation. Elder Kane approached, his scarred face showing rare approval.

"You've progressed faster than any initiate in the sect's history," he observed, noting the way Zulu's muscles moved beneath skin that had been reinforced with beast core essence.

"But you're leaving at a crucial stage. The final fifty percent will be the most difficult."

"I need resources," Zulu replied, his voice carrying the controlled pain that had become his constant companion. Every word sent echoes of agony through his shared consciousness to Takeshi's paralyzed form.

"Spirit stones, rare beast cores and other materials. Its the sect rules. The first half is given and the second half is earned" Kane nodded grimly.

"The mercenary contracts from the eastern continent are lucrative, but dangerous. Two major sects destroyed, qi beast waves terrorizing the region—it's a war zone over there."

"Perfect," Zulu said with a smile that held no warmth.

"War zones pay the best." The overland ark descended through the polar sky like a metallic mountain, its hull reinforced with formations designed to withstand the brutal elements of the north. Unlike the elegant passenger vessels that sailed through the air, this was a freight hauler—built for durability rather than comfort. As Zulu boarded, he felt a wave of fresh agony crash through his consciousness from his other body.

Takeshi was awake, attempting another soul-stitching session despite being barely halfway through the technique. Earth - Takeshi's Home Takeshi sat motionless in his wheelchair, positioned in the morning sunlight as always, but his face was a mask of barely controlled agony. His facial muscles twitched and spasmed involuntarily, the only parts of his body that could still respond to the spiritual trauma he was inflicting on himself.

A low, guttural sound escaped his throat—not quite a moan, not quite a groan, but something that spoke of pain beyond human comprehension. His eyes, wide and staring, were the only indication of the conscious mind trapped within the paralyzed shell.

"Takeshi?" his mother whispered, kneeling beside his wheelchair with tears in her eyes.

"Please, tell me what's wrong. You keep saying you're fine, but these sounds..." Another wave of soul-stitching pain hit him as he worked the ethereal needle through his left shoulder, binding soul essence directly into muscle fibers that hadn't responded to commands in over twenty years. His mouth opened in a soundless scream, drool leaking from the corner of his lips as his vocal cords produced that terrible, inhuman groaning.

"Nnngh... aaahhh... fine," he managed to rasp, though his voice was barely recognizable through the strain.

"I'm... fine..." His father stood in the doorway, his face haggard from two weeks of sleepless nights.

"This doesn't make sense," he said quietly to his wife.

"The doctors said he can't feel anything below his neck. But he's clearly in agony."

"Takeshi," his mother pleaded, reaching out to touch his face.

"The sounds you're making... they're getting worse every day. We're going to call the doctor again."

"No," Takeshi forced out, his voice cracking with effort.

"No... doctors. Just... meditation. Learning... to cope." It was partially true. He was learning to cope—with pain that no medical professional could understand or treat. The soul-stitching technique was rewiring his spiritual connection to his physical form, creating sensations that bypassed his damaged nervous system entirely. Each stitch bound his consciousness more directly to flesh that had been dead to him for decades.

Another needle of soul essence pierced through the barrier between spirit and matter, and Takeshi's face contorted into an expression of such pure agony that his mother gasped and stepped back.

"Gaaahhhhh... hnnnngh..." The sound that emerged was barely human, a gurgling cry that seemed to come from the depths of his soul rather than his throat. His parents exchanged looks of helpless desperation.

"We can't just watch him suffer like this," his mother whispered.

"But what can we do?" his father replied.

"The doctors, the specialists, the pain management experts—none of them understand what's happening to him." Cultivation World - Overland Ark, Cargo Bay Zulu gripped the metal railing of the ark's cargo bay, his enhanced body trembling as Takeshi's latest soul-stitching session sent waves of sympathetic pain through their shared consciousness. The other mercenaries in the cargo hold—rough men and women heading to the war-torn eastern continent—gave him wary looks.

"You alright, kid?" asked a grizzled woman with scars covering half her face.

"You look like you're about to puke."

"I'm fine," Zulu replied through gritted teeth, the same words Takeshi was struggling to voice on Earth.

"Just... adjusting to the altitude." The lie was necessary. He couldn't explain that half his soul was currently being sewn into a paralyzed body on another world, creating a feedback loop of spiritual agony that threatened to drive him insane. The pain was worth it—each successful stitch brought Takeshi closer to freedom, closer to having a body that could move and feel and truly live. But the cost was becoming almost unbearable.

"Word of advice," the scarred woman continued, settling back against a crate of supplies.

"Whatever personal demons you're fighting, leave them on this ark. The eastern continent has its own demons that have risen. The beast waves are real, the mercenary work is deadly, and hesitation gets you killed." Zulu nodded, forcing his body to stop trembling through sheer willpower.

"I'm not weak," he said quietly.

"I'm just... becoming something stronger." The woman studied his metallic-sheened skin and the scars that marked his torso.

"Body cultivator?"

"First stage, fifty percent complete." Her eyebrows rose in respect.

"Tough path. No wonder you look like hell. But if you can survive body refining, you can probably survive whatever's waiting for us in the eastern continent." As the ark lurched into motion, beginning its journey across the frozen wasteland toward the war zone, Zulu closed his eyes and endured another wave of soul-stitching pain from his other body. Each pulse of agony was an investment in freedom—Takeshi's freedom, and by extension, his own.

Earth - Later That Afternoon Takeshi's parents sat in their kitchen, speaking in hushed tones while their son remained motionless in the living room. The terrible groaning sounds had subsided temporarily, but they both knew it was only a matter of time before they resumed.

"Maybe we should call an ambulance," his mother suggested for the dozenth time that week.

"Force the doctors to figure out what's wrong."

"And tell them what?" his father replied wearily.

"That our paralyzed son is somehow screaming in pain? They'll think we're crazy."

"Then what do we do? Just listen to him suffer?" His father was quiet for a long moment.

"Maybe... maybe this is his choice. He keeps saying he's fine, keeps insisting he doesn't want medical intervention. What if this is something he needs to work through on his own?"

"But the screaming—""Has been the only sign of... life... we've seen from him in twenty years," his father finished quietly.

"I don't understand it, but something is changing in him. Maybe we need to trust that he knows what he's doing." From the living room came another low, gargling sound of spiritual agony, followed by Takeshi's hoarse whisper: "I'm... okay... getting... stronger..."