Chương 6: Eaten Away

[I'm already used to the pain of it. After all, I've been doing this bloody thing for the last ten years. But sometimes… it doesn't matter how used to it you are. You know that pain will come, and you hesitate— your hand hovering over your body, gripping the insulin pen tighter and tighter. You'll do it eventually, of course. But that moment of hesitation, that flicker of fear… that's your lifetime curse. Acceptance… doesn't change it.] A close friend of his, who had Type 1 Diabetes, once said those words.

Ren hadn't grasped their weight back then, but now— now, under different skies— he did. It took half an hour before he could find the courage to use Heavenly Call once again. He opened his trembling hands… then paused. That flaring pain played over and over in his head like a broken record. Then he pushed them forward. Slowly. Steadily. Ren felt the slight ripple around his fingernails. It tingled his hand. A wide arc first, followed by two quick, tight circles.

The invisible spiritual energy converged and materialized in the form of transparent slivers as thin as needles. They poured into his pores, bit by bit, unlike earlier. Controlled. That same sense of hunger stirred within him. But Ren didn't feed it— not yet. Instead, he guided the slivers into the meridians across his body, carefully avoiding his core. Thanks to his soul brother's memories—and the muscle memory he'd inherited—he managed it with surprising ease. Here comes the hard part.

When he felt he had accumulated enough, when his meridians trembled and whined, Ren opened his arms wide and triggered another flood. At the same time, he gritted his teeth, lifting the blockade to his core. His body stiffened under the sheer stress, a line of blood once again trickling down to his chin. The sapling gobbled it all in an instant, and its desire for more covered his body. Yet it didn't erupt like earlier, as though it was busy digesting.

Exhaling sharply, Ren continued to move, repeating the same process. His fingers began to convulse. Accumulate, distribute, and only then let it devour. He misstepped and stumbled, shoulders trembling. His movements had already lost their serenity and turned chaotic as if he had become a puppet with some of his strings broken. He wanted to growl at the sapling. Fuck me! I shouldn't have pitied this bastard! Yet the sapling continued, its pull became more hurried and aggressive.

Normally docile, or even meek, spiritual energy turned into an angry mob of people trying to get the last few pieces of free-distributed food in a booth. [Daily Watering: 2/10] [Daily Watering: 3/10] Although it was no different than a snail's pace, the only good news in this bloody situation was the rise in the bar. This can't be cultivation— I am bleeding out one breath at a time…

He felt like a succubus had appeared to seduce him, and even though he knew it would suck all his essence in the end, he had agreed, thinking that he could at least get the experience and the well-deserved joy of tasting it… Where is my freaking joy, then?! And where the hell did this thought even come from?! Ren quickly shook his dazed head. His vision swam, his chest heaved, each breath like inhaling shards of glass.

[Daily Watering: 4/10] He lowered his hands as soon as he got the notification, just wanting to plop somewhere and sleep. However, the hunger finally erupted within. His eyes turned bloodshot in an instant. Are you really trying to squeeze me dry, you succubus bitch?! He raised his trembling hands high, grabbing at empty air like a zealot mid-ritual, pulling it toward his chest. A moan parted his lips as he focused all the energy around him into his chest.

Then his moves changed into something resembling more of a strange cult dance rather than a martial arts practice. He jumped, squatted, waved his hands in a rhythm only he could hear, forcefully guiding the slivers of spiritual energy. Heavenly Serenity Technique, First Level, Second Change: Heavenly Ritual [Daily Watering: 5/10] The rise in the bar stepped up a gear to a turtle's crawling, and along with it, his muscles trembled violently, veins bulging against his skin as if they might burst.

The energy rushing through him wasn't just overwhelming— it was searing, burning through every fiber of his being. His head pounded, and his body screamed for mercy. [Daily Watering: 6/10] [Daily Watering: 7/10] It's about to end, endure, endure… … [Daily Watering: 9/10] A little bit more… just a little bit. [Daily Watering: 10/10] Daily watering ended. The pull vanished entirely, leaving only a sense of emptiness.

His vision shifted back to the sapling, and Ren saw the whirlpool inside of him crumbling inwards and constrained into one last drop that fell onto it, nourishing and also as though encouraging it to raise its head proudly. Just then, he felt as if someone had anchored him in a place. Half-real, half-phantom roots dug in and clung to the ground with all their might. Yet something was also corrupting them, as if resisting.

Then he found himself back in the real world, his head spinning, the silence inside him deafening. He could have sworn that he heard a faint giggle in the distance, but it was as vague as a dream slipping away on waking. Ren collapsed like a sack full of potatoes. If not for the faint rise and fall of his chest, anybody who saw him in that state would think he'd died.

"F-Fucking hell." A weak whisper left his lips. He lay there, staring blankly at the orange-tinged sky above.

"Forget getting used to… how could anyone ever accept this…" Pain was a frequent visitor for him; that was something he had accepted long ago. He was someone who would overwork his body to make sure his work ended for the day, and he was used to its consequences. But he had to admit his world's pain scale was nothing compared to here. Heck, forget about his body— his very being felt hollow, scraped clean as if his essence had been scooped out.

Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation. He wanted to think, wanted to piece things together, but his brain felt sluggish. Foggy. Numb. The only thing he could focus on was the ache in his bones, like every inch of him complaining about his abuse. His hands twitched weakly at his sides, his palm wet with blood, and he could barely curl his fingers into a fist. The sapling. The spiritual energy. That strange, greedy force. The corruption. And then that… tree?

"Yeah, a fucking perfect golden finger, amazing," he muttered as he mustered the strength to turn sideways, which turned out futile, of course. He felt an overwhelming urge to just close his eyes and sleep right there. I guess I can sleep a little, after all, I'm gonna pull an all-nighter, his lips curled at the thought, feeling that might be the most familiar thing for him even in this different world. Furthermore, a strange excitement thrummed beneath his skin, refusing to be snuffed out despite his frustrations.

[So what do you do then? If you can't get used to it, if you can't accept it— what can you do?] He'd asked that once. His friend had smiled. [You live with it. Or you don't. But either way… You sleep through it. Then wake up. And do it again.] That was one hell of an answer, bastard. And he faded, thought by thought, into the soft velvet of slumber. The wind passed through the trees, gentle against his skin like a whispered lullaby. … Ren jerked awake to the harsh tremble in his pocket.

He bolted upright, looking around in confusion, his mind trying to remember where he was, to see if he had returned to his simple bedroom. He took a deep breath after a brief moment and settled back into reality. Then came the pain, the kind that forced him to spew the breath as a sharp gasp as he got punched in the gut. He doubled over, coughing violently. It took a few minutes just to stabilize, and only then did he fish out his token. A video-like projection flared in his vision.

"Young master, your food is ready. Are you awake?" He saw Madam Zhang standing in front of the door with a tray. Clever. Even without technology, they have video calls. Ren stared at the image for a second too long, trying to get his brain to catch up. Madam Zhang's voice still echoed in his ears, soft and gentle, like a mother coaxing a stubborn child out of bed.

"Shit," he muttered, rubbing his face.

"Food. Right. Can't live without it." Dragging himself upright couldn't be called a pretty sight. Every joint protested. His limbs wobbled like noodles forgotten in the water, but eventually—through sheer spite—he made it to the corridor.

"Why must everywhere be so bloody huge? First the stairs, and now the fucking corridor…" he grumbled, hand dragging along the wall like a dying man. Each step felt like wading through knee-deep mud. He inhaled deeply, straightened himself, and cracked the door open just enough to peek out. Madam Zhang was still there, holding the tray with one hand and a folded cloth in the other.

"You look like a total mess, young master," she said dryly, frowning.

"Eat first, wash later. And let me in. Those wounds won't heal on their own."

"Noted," Ren nodded solemnly. He stepped back for her— or rather, trying to. His legs gave way, and if not for her quick reflexes, he'd have had a very intimate moment with the floor.

"Young Master!" The tray clattered as it hit the ground, scattering its contents. Ren swayed. His vision darkened for a heartbeat. Then the smell hit him— rice, something meaty, something spicy—and his stomach howled in betrayal.

"I-I am…" his tongue wavered within, twisting itself into knots, "am, I- fine…"

"You!" Helping him to sit, Madam Zhang put both hands on her waist, her frown deepening.

"Let me tell you something, young man. You are in no condition to say you're fine. Let alone being fine, even placing the word fine in the same breath as you is an insult to its meaning." Ren rolled his eyes, but couldn't retort.

"Little Xu, go and call someone from Alchemy Peak and Icecold Peak. Tell that young master needs—" Suddenly, Ren grabbed her wrist, his grasp surprisingly strong for someone who couldn't even stand up. And it was hot. Madam Zhang narrowed her eyes.

"Don't… J-just prepare something to eat… and help me to the bathroom."

"But—" she opened her mouth, yet stopped under his gaze. In the end, she let out an exasperated sigh.

"Alright, but if your wounds get worse, I won't listen." Ren nodded with his eyes and let her support him.

"Easy there," he winced, biting his lips. Two of them slowly made it to the bathroom. His mansion boasted a sprawling bathroom, much larger than any he'd seen in his life. But the centerpiece— and the real masterpiece— was the spiritual pool, a luxury he silently applauded with both hands every time he saw it. The pool's smooth stone edges gleamed under a sparkstone's soft light, and the water shimmered faintly with a slivery-blue glow.

Intricate runes carved into the stone pulsed gently, weaving strands of ethereal energy into the water. Ren smiled faintly.

"That's enough, Madam. I can handle the rest." He straightened, though he was still wobbling on the spot slightly.

"A meat soup would be great, thanks." Madam Zhang merely bowed, her expression unreadable.

"I will ask, young master." And she left. Afterward, with the strength of a slightly less-dead corpse, Ren peeled off his robe. The damn thing clung to his skin, stiff with sweat and blood, and he had to rip it with a jarring noise at last. The next moment, he slid into the water with a groan— half pleasure, half pain. The warmth swallowed him whole. The soreness in his muscles soothed as the runes activated, sending soft ripples of energy through the water, like tiny hands massaging his limbs.

"Now, this is living," he muttered, sinking deeper until only his head was above the surface. He closed his eyes and let the warmth lull him into a peaceful trance. I should've done this sooner, he thought lazily, enjoying the quiet buzz of the spiritual energy around him. At the same time, his mind once again started to work properly. He couldn't help but turn his sight to his innards—he couldn't explain it scientifically, but it worked— and focused to where all the energy he had streamed.

And there, in the place of his former Core, he found something that wasn't there before: a dark orb. His brows furrowed as he focused in, and the scenery of a sapling emerged. So you are resting there, huh? This time, he had enough time to observe. And what he found… was the same. He couldn't discern any noticeable change; it looked more vibrant with the spread of roots.

The sapling slightly moved with a breeze, which he had no idea if it was real or just his imagination, but the sapling seemed as though it was greeting him with childish joy. And truth to be told, he couldn't help but smile like a father watching his son. Even though this brat had violated his body quite a lot—bad word choices, but it was true— he couldn't deny the hope it presented to him. Also, it's my only way to pay back my debt. He felt the heaviness on his shoulders, imaginary chains maybe.

He couldn't remember when was the last time he felt like this. Seven years? Eight? Seven years, three months, and twenty-five days, including the time I spent here… right before she left. He sank his head into the water as well, seeking silence at the bottom. A terrible idea, he regretted in the next moment as the warm, muffled dark swallowed him whole. And in that quiet, in that blurred hush between breath and drowning… He remembered her face. Or at least what was left of it in memory.

It was blurry like an old photo, slightly damp and faded. Details missing. Yet the outline remained, so familiar but also so alien. The way her lashes curled. The faint mole beneath her right eye. That tilt of her head when she pretended to be angry at him. Her face was half-lit by a golden streetlamp— or maybe it was the sun. He couldn't remember. Her lips moved, mouthing something he couldn't hear, couldn't read. But he remembered the banana scent.

That stupid banana-flavored lip balm she always wore, even though she hated bananas.

"Because it makes you smile, idiot," she'd said once. It lingered even now, in his mind, like a twisted joke. She is… calling for me? After all those years? Her smile melted into something sad, almost pained. Then her hand reached for him, and instinctively, his arm shot forward. Ren tried to grab it. To hold on. And then came the chill. Her features faded. His chest clenched, lungs screaming for air— he shot up with a violent splash. The world came crashing back, loud and blinding.

"Young master! If you don't answer, I will come inside! Young master!" The call he heard became clearer, yet his dazed brain struggled to grasp it. He gasped, coughed, struggled to breathe, holding his throat without realizing his nails were sinking into his skin.

"I am coming in!"

"S-Stop…" he said, but the voice that came out couldn't even be called a whisper. The corks in his brain finally worked as the door pounded, and he managed a weak shout.

"I'm fine, stop, please leave." Madam Zhang pounded the door once more.

"But… young master, what's happening to you?" He could imagine her face twisted in concern behind the door. I would gladly answer if I knew. He ran a trembling hand across his face, brushing away the water along with whatever was left in his mind. His lips parted with a deep sigh.

"I just drifted off for a second there… Sorry for making you worry," he uttered.

"I will come out just in a minute; you can go back, Madam."

"I—" she began, her hand dragging harshly across the door. Then it paused.

"Understood, young master. Your food is ready, and I left towels beside the door. Please call me if you need anything."

"Thanks, Madam." Ren nodded his head as if she could see. He ran his fingers through his soaked hair, brushing it back. Just what I needed… Great. Just fucking great.