Starred Tower: System Misinterpret Book One - A Post Apocalyptic Cultivation LitRPG

by Ryan DeBruyn

  As soon as the heavy qi enters my Dantian, I feel the organ begin to shudder. I suck in air through chattering teeth, trying to figure out what is happening. To fit the new Frost qi inside, I removed a drop of Earth qi, but the other eighteen drops inside the Dantian are moving away from the Frost qi. Every other drop hugs the walls of the organ.

  My mental picture of Veronica is a complete afterthought as my own body responds to the six drops of Frost qi inside of it. A quick inventory tells me that my body is starting to fail with that tiny amount. How in the world am I supposed to understand more about this qi? Crash distinctly told me that this process should help me.

  Is it the composition? What if I tried to pull it apart? How would I pull it apart?

  My focus sharpens, and I direct it solely to my Dantian. Two parts water, one part Moon, and one part Air. Then perhaps I should use Fire qi? It is Frost qi, after all—fire should theoretically melt it.

  The Frost qi repels the Fire qi, and I shove at the Fire drop but feel it barely budge a micrometer toward the other. Another drop of the Frost qi forms in my hand, and I realize that I am working with a timer as well. My body is shaking so badly that I am barely able to maintain my grip on Veronica. If it’s Frost qi, and Fire qi cannot approach it—then maybe Sun qi?

  I try it, and it refuses to move at all. There are six types of qi, and the ice drop contains three. Wait, the opposite three, I have all of those in my body. What if I combine two Fire qi, one Sun, and one Earth? Would that do anything?

  No time like the present to find out. I force the combination together in my Dantian and feel a burst of heat radiate out from the spot where they combine. It is like a miniature sun bloomed right in my Dantian, and I sigh as the heat pushes back a bit of the cold. The new qi is the same size as the Frost qi, and I can tell that it opposes it, unlike the singular drops.

  I push the Frost and unknown qi together and feel them both begin fighting to remain whole. Since I want the Frost to break and the Fire combination to stay, I mentally attempt to hold the second together.

  The strain I feel on my brain from this seemingly simple task feels like a hot poker through the skull. I grit my teeth and forge forward, attempting to crack just a single drop of the Frost qi. The moment Veronica’s qi bursts, a pressure in my Dantian builds and she releases a startled cry. I eject the separated drops from the Frost qi to relieve that pressure.

  “What was that?” she asks hoarsely, but I can’t give a response. I can only attempt to break the next bundle of qi that is inside my Dantian. The task feels like something small and easy, but the strain on my mind is anything but. I clamp down as hard as I can on the Fire combination qi and keep working, using it as a hammer to bash into each drop of Frost qi.

  I crack the next piece of Frost qi just as I pull the third inside my Dantian. I can feel cold sweat across my entire body and simultaneously hear a distant commotion. Blankets fly around and off of me. People attempt to pry Veronica and me apart.

  “No, please don’t,” I hear Veronica cry as someone manages to unstick our palms. They slap back together wetly, and her voice continues, “He is doing something. It’s helping.”

  If there is a response, I am deaf to it. I attempt to circulate qi to Veronica, hold my strange hammer together, and bash apart Frost qi all at the same time. To call the task difficult is an extreme understatement. Try immense, intricate, and laborious.

  Someone is wiping my skin when I finally feel the first drop of my own qi return to me. I have long since sent almost all of my own original qi, other than some Sun, Fire, and Earth qi, through to Veronica. My hammer has broken twice, and each time it was harder to put the original qi back together, but new drops don’t have that aversion.

  A check of my body tells me there isn’t any Frost qi anywhere, and I crack an eyelid and take a deep breath. I immediately regret the inhalation as the room smells like someone shat in the cookpot. Or something rotten is dying in the fire. Most of the air came in through my mouth, luckily, but even that left a heavy taste I wish I could remove.

  In front of me is a woman I wouldn’t recognize if not for her green eyes. Veronica has black sludge covering her from head to toe and is wearing only a tight tank top and tight lycra undergarment. The scene might have been slightly erotic if she weren’t filthy. I still blush, recalling the moment my qi. . .

  I shake my head and try to speak, but when I open my mouth, I find that the inside is so dry, it feels like an arid desert. Something chilly presses into my shoulder, and I find a water bottle. I look up to see Jessamyn looking at me with a few tears in her eyes.

  “I was wrong about you,” she mutters and moves away. Probably her version of an apology, and I am okay with that. I didn’t initially realize how reckless I was being, undertaking the task. Now, in hindsight, I realize I was probably one mistake away from death.

  “How do you feel?” I ask Veronica. My voice is still hoarse.

  She blinks at me and looks down at herself, covered in rancid blackness. Then she glances at me and does a quick up-down as well. I follow her eyes and realize I am also covered in filth. Much less so than she is, though. Still, I haven’t seen such a massive amount since my first time—

  Wait! I dive into myself. Abscesses along major arteries from my palm to my heart, lungs, and back out to my other palm are gone. I was concentrating during the cultivation and didn’t feel them flow away, but discovering it now makes me smile. Then I grimace when moving the tiny muscles of my face reminds me of my splitting headache.

  I pry our stiff hands apart, feeling a sucking sensation and hearing a disgusting squelch.

  “I think we both need a shower,” I suggest and try to straighten my stiff legs and stand.

  The pain that shoots through my head brings on disorientation twice as strong as the spins that put me on the blanket pile, and I collapse back to the floor.

  “Someone go get Darren and Jacque,” Jessamyn says, her voice muffled because she is breathing through a rag on her nose. “He must be exhausted after spending four hours sitting,” she finishes, her eyes just visible and watering slightly. Is that from the smell?

  Her words also make me realize only women are in the room, and someone has taken all of my outer clothing off. I look down to see myself wearing a very stained pair of boxers, and nothing else. . .

  I think I will just wait here for the men to arrive, thinking about all the ways I might die from embarrassment.

  Chapter 42

  September 5th, 151 AR

  Jeff Turle

  After a long shower and some more in-depth inspection, I realize that I also have access to many of my arterioles in my left arm, the same one Veronica sent the Frost qi into. Many abscesses or blockages from my shoulder to my heart, lungs, and Dantian are either gone or smaller too. In fact, every capillary around my Dantian is now clear. That means all I have left is the venules, and I can increase my rank. Are these some of the benefits Crash mentioned?

  On top of that, I have approximately sixty new drops of qi, most of it Water, but some Air and Moon. At first, I wonder if I didn’t send back all of Veronica’s qi like she did mine. Still, I realize that if she was holding fourteen drops of Frost qi in her Dantian plus whatever was floating around killing her, and I broke each of those into four drops . . .well, that accounts for seventy-plus drops of liquid, and I likely sent her back as much as she was willing to hold. I will have to ask her to be sure, but thinking under the hot stream of water, that’s all I could come up with.

  “Are you done yet? We are waiting for you to come out so we can talk,” Jacque calls over a simultaneous banging on the bathroom door.

  Part of the reason I am lagging and dawdling under the water’s heat is to remove the filth that clung to me. Another part is that the cold still seems to permeate my body, but the largest part is avoiding that conversation. What in the world am I going to tell them?

  They aren’t going to believe any half-thought-out tales, and I definitely will not t
ell the truth. So far, all I have come up with is to play it like my cultivation method is something I inherited from my family.

  “Just a minute, this stuff got in my hair,” I lie and loop back around to the start of my brainstorming. I need to think of something.

  I keep myself to only about ten more minutes in the shower and am now sitting on the guest room sofa, staring at two silent figures on the armchairs across from me. The silence in the room defies my expectation, mostly because I was expecting something like an interrogation. Both of the leaders, Darren and Jacque, look at me, then their hands, and then back to each other before shrugging.

  Are they waiting for me to speak?

  “So, I am sorry I didn’t intervene in the market. I really hope you didn’t get ripped off too badly,” I try, hoping to at least smooth over my inaction as they got cheated on the ‘Rhinoceros Beetle Horn.’

  Darren opens his mouth—

  “You truly believe that we were ripped off? But how could you know? A rhinoceros beetle is an A-rank intelligent creature. I doubt you could have ever seen one, much less up close,” Jacque interrupts, his French lilt heavy.

  “I think that’s a good place to start. Jeff, please explain how you came to believe we were sold an Arachnid Leg and not a Beetle Horn,” Darren adds much more politely.

  The interplay between the two suggests that they still don’t believe my claims. In the hour or more I spent in the shower, I didn’t really come up with a lie for this part of the story. I hadn’t thought it necessary.

  “Well, umm, I have seen a Rhinoceros Beetle Horn before, and while they are quite similar to the item I saw you purchase, I could see cut marks on the chitin from someone shaping the item with a blade.” I feel rather proud of my off-the-cuff fib. I have no idea what a Beetle Horn looks like, but my contacts definitely wouldn’t lie.

  Jacque stands up from his chair and stomps to the door before flinging it open.

  “Go get me the Rhinoceros Beetle Horn. I wish to examine it,” the man orders to an unseen figure outside. After that, he wheels back around and lets the door slowly close on its own behind him as he stares at me.

  “Why would I lie about that?” I ask, backtracking slightly. I don’t think I will be able to point out any marks or cuts on the object in question. Unless that green shaved area actually was modified. . .?

  “Forgive him,” Darren interjects. “He actually has his own suspicions about the object. He just finds it very hard to believe that you saw it as false without closely examining it.” Darren is staring very pointedly at Jacque as he finishes, and the Frenchman retakes his seat with a sigh.

  “While we wait,” Darren continues, “could you perhaps explain what you did to Miss Veronica? From her own account of the first day we met you, we both believe we recognize the black sludge that covers her as the same thing she saw on you. Considering that you were also covered in it, can we assume that it’s pus and rot expelled via cultivation?”

  I nod my head in response, not really seeing anything to add to that explanation. Part of my brain is still stuck on them questioning Veronica about me. What interest did they have in a criminal? Still, they couldn’t know everything.

  “Interesting,” Darren says as he strokes his chin. “Why do you not burn the rot out as the Church prescribes?”

  “My cultivation method is different from that of the Church,” I state, trying to avoid the question. Or at least the part of the problem that I think might give away some deeper font of knowledge.

  “I see,” Darren responds, tilting his head but not stopping the casual caress of his morning stubble. “Where did you come by this cultivation method? And is it how you were able to help Veronica?”

  Jacque leans forward in his seat, which draws my eye. He doesn’t look angry, just intense. His gaze makes me lean away from him; it is like he is trying to see inside of me. Like he is looking at my cultivation.

  Darren slaps Jacque in the arm, and the man shakes himself and apologizes unnecessarily. Jacque leans back. I shudder but stay pressed into the couch as far as I can.

  “Yes, it is how I helped Veronica, and I inherited my cultivation method.” I’ve chosen to leave off the family aspect and make it vaguer. This answer is short and to the point, which amuses Darren, if his small smile is any indication.

  “Are you not from the Northern Territory then?” Jacque interjects huffily.

  “The group I traveled with was full of mercenaries, and we never stayed in one place. They could’ve been from anywhere.” That isn’t even close to the truth. I’ve never left the Northern Territory. But they don’t need to know that.

  “Where is your teacher now?” Darren calmly adds.

  “I don’t know,” I say and resist shaking my head.

  I can’t help but reach up and massage my ears through my mop of hair as the tension mounts. As I do, I notice the look that passes between the two men. Crap! I smooth my damp hair over the points and narrow my eyes. Did they notice? Did that look mean anything? They both nod at each other and then turn back to me, which confuses me even more.

  “Look, we’re grateful for your help with Veronica and would like to extend an invitation to you to join the Star Bucks,” Darren says. The change in tack the conversation took surprises me so much that I frown. “Either way, we will be abolishing your debt to the Church and expect no repayment.”

  “That’s. . .” I begin scrambling for words. One thousand mithril isn’t a small sum, and I know she isn’t healed. According to the cultivation journal, she will need to reach at least the B-ranks before breaking down her own Frost qi. Maybe sooner if I can teach her how to create her own combination qi like I did.

  Still, it isn’t like she can live on her own. It will eventually get just as bad again without further [Paired Cultivation]—my greed for the money wars with my need to tell them all of what I am thinking. I don’t want to be indebted to them. If I tell them about her needing more treatments will they use that information and this money in the same way the Church was going to? Also, I haven’t forgotten the probing questions about my teacher.

  “Don’t worry, we realize this was only a temporary fix, but you have given us more time to continue searching for a cure. And if everything you told us is true, you may have saved her life,” Jacque says, his voice going from grateful to suspicious as people enter the room. They’re holding the long black horn that is supposed to be a Rhinoceros Beetle Horn.

  Jacque stands and retrieves it before moving over to me and thrusting it forward.

  “Show me what you are talking about,” he demands.

  I dismiss the contacts’ [Identify], which confirms the item as an Arachnid Leg, and closely look at it. The chitin gleams on the object, but this close, I can see small spots where the thing appears to have circular patterns on it. I lean forward to try and figure out what they are.

  It isn’t a consistent shape, more like a repeating mark. I run my finger over and find it slightly rough in some areas while perfectly smooth, almost slippery in others. Jacque is beginning to smile in triumph when I realize what object I have seen that might cause a pattern like this. Hunters were using it on their vehicles earlier today. It was some sort of circular spinning device, and it seemed to clear dirt and rust from the metal.

  “See here? This is caused by a machine, the one that spins,” I proclaim with as much confidence as I can muster. Darren gives me a look I can’t place after my description.

  “What?” Jacque shouts and flips the leg to look closely. He runs his own hand over the area. “This could just be from the fight with the adventuring group,” he says, but his heart isn’t in it. “I am going to go speak with Erik!” he shouts and storms out of the room.

  “That’s Jacque for you,” Darren says with a slight chuckle. “He doesn’t mean anything by his tone, Jeff. He just didn’t want to believe that Erik would rip him off. He has known the man for a long time.”

  I scratch the top of my head and keep my gaze on the door.<
br />
  “Well, maybe Erik wasn’t aware of it either?” I suggest.

  “That doesn’t matter. As a merchant, it’s illegal to sell falsely. Even if Erik bought it, he is responsible for ensuring its authenticity. Then again, we did rush right over—he might have skipped that step,” Darren says sadly. I turn back toward the man, after the door closes.

  He is also still focused on the door, but shakes himself and claps his hands together before looking back at me. I turn back to him to find he is standing up and smiling.

  “I am sorry, I bet this felt like an interrogation. How about we go see how Veronica is doing?” Darren says. “Hopefully that will help you with your decision to join us. We really would like to have such a unique individual amongst our ranks. . .”

  “I’ll think about it.” I also stand. His hinting compliment at the end makes me smile at least. I know I won’t be joining, but I do also want to check on Veronica, so I can be polite a little while longer.

  We leave the room, which was just an empty chamber on the seventh floor, not a proper guest room, and walk down the hall back to Veronica’s suite. Darren knocks, and I can hear some rather loud bangs and shuffling feet through the door.

  A moment later, the door is flung wide, and Jessamyn is standing there, glowering. My mouth falls open, I am pretty sure that a bra is hanging over her head, and her clean clothes from before have liberal amounts of black water coating them.

  “Hello, guild master,” she says, greeting Darren with a deadpan tone and a slight nod of her head.

  “Is everything okay?” Darren steps back and asks, his voice oscillating between amusement and worry. His head is searching the room behind the woman. His question elicits a tight smile from Jessamyn, and the door is promptly slammed in our faces.