3 An arrogant way to describe oneself. “This King” and “This Emperor” or “This Sovereign” can also be used in this manner.
Chapter 5: Fracture
Sweat dripped down Cha Ming’s chest as he trembled in pain. He was completely focused on his latest idea: healing his meridians with the Creation Qi Manipulation Technique. He gritted his teeth as he extracted a wisp of white qi from his dantian and directed it to a creation seal that led to the outside. Slowly but surely, it wandered through the opening and to the undamaged inch or so of the qi pathway.
It was difficult to force the qi through the charred black tunnel. To his surprise, the charred surface quickly became coated with a new layer of qi-pathway material. However, the pathway was much smaller than before. It could be rebuilt, but the technique could not remove any damaged materials.
Still, something was better than nothing. The qi continued traveling down the pathway, depleting itself as it created. In some cases, entire holes were patched. In others, the pathway was entirely missing, so the technique was able to create a brand-new pathway. However, his joy was short-lived. He soon arrived at a location where the channel was ragged and torn beyond recognition. It was also filled with charred debris.
As the qi swept across these remnants, a thick coating appeared on the surface of each piece. Cha Ming grimaced when he realized that the pathway he had worked so hard to repair was completely blocked off.
This was the straw that broke the camel’s back. His technique clearly mentioned that the human body could at most accommodate six sets of meridians. Therefore, he couldn’t create a new pathway.
Depressed and dejected, he laid in his bed, staring at the ceiling. Before long, he drifted into a deep sleep.
Cha Ming panted heavily as he struggled against a large ball of wool. It was shearing season, and this sheep was still covered in its thick wool coat. It had fallen into a shallow ditch and couldn’t get out unassisted. As a helper to a local farmer, it was Cha Ming’s duty to rescue any sheep that were lost or in precarious situations.
Sweat ran down his brow as he inched his way forward, pushing his stubborn charge up the steep slope little by little. Finally, a half hour later, Cha Ming laid down on the pasture grass. His shirt was drenched in sweat, and all his muscles burned intensely. The sheep he had rescued, seeing Cha Ming completely covered in a salty liquid, proceeded to lick his arms and bare chest.
This isn’t the first time, nor will it be the last, he thought. After catching his breath, he continued to guard the sheep as they grazed. They were close to the woods, and it would only be too easy for wolves or foxes to prey on the unsuspecting herd. That was why he always brought a long wooden staff with him wherever he went. Fortunately, these predators feared humans instinctively. As such, he could easily fight them off with a few wide swings.
Time flowed by quickly, and the clouds were tinged in red as dusk settled. It was time to bring the sheep back to their resting place, so Cha Ming patiently herded them away from the woods. As he walked past them, he noticed an unusual silence.
Must be wolves again, he thought. The smaller animals in the forest always shied away from their natural predators. Just like he expected, four silhouettes darted out from the woods toward one of the weaker sheep in the flock. Cha Ming grasped his staff firmly and sprinted toward them, hollering. He wasn’t trying to kill them, only scare them. It was much too difficult for a lone boy to accomplish.
As he approached, the wolves growled at him and didn’t move back. This was unusual behavior but understandable given their mangy appearances. They were skin and bones, and desperation flickered in their fierce eyes. Unfortunately, desperate wolves were the trickiest. Cha Ming swung his long staff and hit a wolf’s head, and it whined but still stood firm.
He heard a sharp bleating noise as one of the younger sheep was bitten in the neck. He watched on helplessly as they dragged its corpse off. The two wolves facing him slowly backed away, their fangs bared. Cha Ming could only sigh and continue herding the agitated sheep back to their resting place.
He traveled back to the village after sunset. It was dark out, but a few people hung lanterns up to illuminate the communal street. He carried two large pails of water from the well with great difficulty. As he made his way toward their small shack, he noticed a few silhouettes. Frowning, he continued toward the house. He was greeted by the older farmer who employed him, the village mayor, and a friendly neighbor. They didn’t appear very happy.
“Cha Ming, we have something important to tell you,” the mayor said gravely. Seeing Cha Ming’s confused expression, he sighed and continued. “It’s not easy to say this, but it needs to be done. Your father passed away this morning.”
Cha Ming dropped both pails in shock. His strength left him, and his legs buckled. His eyes were red and tearing up. “What happened?” he asked in a quavering voice.
The mayor sighed once more. “Fisherman Zhu found him downstream from the bridge, floating in the river. It was clear that he’d fallen to his death. We weren’t sure if it was accidental or not, but then we found a note in your home. I’m afraid your father ended his own life.”
Hearing this, Cha Ming sobbed uncontrollably.
Why did you have to do this? he thought. I was working so hard to support us both. It would have been no problem for us to survive. Since there is such a thing as filial piety, don’t you owe it to me, your son, to continue living?
As such thoughts ran through his mind, the three adults waited for him to recover. Eventually, Cha Ming stood up and wiped away his tears.
“Can I see my father’s body?” he asked.
The mayor nodded. “I’ll take you there very soon. Come look at the letter before we go.” His voice was soothing and reassuring. He had no doubt gone through this process many times before.
Cha Ming followed them in and saw a note on the kitchen table, along with a pouch. Tears streamed down his face as he read the note.
Dearest Cha Ming,
I’m sorry I was never a good father.
Life has been difficult for me, but it’s no excuse. My memories cause me great misery, and I can’t help but drown my sorrows in liquor every day. These days, I’ve been thinking about what to do. I have little money left, and you won’t be able to support us both adequately. Besides, I’m tired and lonely. It’s time I move on and meet your mother.
Here is the rest of my life savings. It’s not much, but it can get you somewhere far away if you so choose. Your mother and I were both cultivators. Unfortunately, we were both crippled in the war. It was those injuries that caused her death shortly after you were born, but she never regretted having you. And neither have I.
I tested your aptitude long ago, and it wouldn’t be a problem for you to attend a publicly funded cultivation school. Alternatively, you can stay here and enjoy a peaceful life, away from war and its atrocities. The cultivation world is a brutal place, full of schemes and greed. I’m sure you can handle it. You are much stronger than I was at your age.
This meager amount of money should get you to the nearest city. Or it should be enough to buy a farm. It’s up to you. Whatever you choose, I wish you a happy life. Once again, I’m sorry, but I miss her so much. I hope you can understand.
With love,
Du Xie Ming
Cha Ming was inconsolable over the next few weeks. He buried his father next to his mother and mourned for three days and nights at their graves. Then, he continued herding sheep for another two weeks. After getting paid for his services, he resigned and began planning his journey to Green Leaf City. The dangers of the cultivation world might be plenty, but he couldn’t bear to stay in his small town, despite the kindness of its residents.
He had chosen to become a cultivator. It was the very first real choice he’d made in this life.
Cha Ming woke the next morning and prepared breakfast for himself and Li Yin. It was a daily habit for him, one of the few useful things he could do to help the generous d
octor. It gratified him to see that, at the very least, he could take care of the man who saw dozens of mortal patients every day. He didn’t ask for any payment, but the villagers helped where they could. Every day, they received various baskets of food, bandages, and herbs.
“Have you thought about what you’re going to do?” Li Yin asked as they ate.
Cha Ming laughed helplessly. “What can I do? I’m a cripple, and I don’t have long to live. If I didn’t have someone who depended on me, I’d consider throwing myself off a bridge.”
He kept his eyes down, ashamed of what he’d just said. Just admitting that he would consider suicide seemed to push him into a deep pool of cold water, a darkness he couldn’t escape from.
“I was like you once,” Li Yin said softly, seeing Cha Ming’s discouraged expression. “My father was a spirit doctor. One of the best in his clan. He tested me when I was young, you see, and I was evaluated as a third-grade talent with full innate soul force and dual water and wood affinity. It was like a dream come true.
“My father was equally excited. Not every spirit doctor has the good fortune to teach his profession to his child. As a result, I was fed countless medicines in my youth. My father made me study anatomy and spirit-doctor theory. Because I was young, I didn’t train my qi or body. Instead, my father made me perform several drills to increase my soul force. He was so excited…”
Li Yin looked up and stared into Cha Ming’s eyes. “And then I tried cultivating. I successfully formed a qi cyclone on my first try. What great fortune! But I was happy too soon.” He paused and sighed.
“The instant I attempted to circulate the newly condensed qi, my meridians were overwhelmed. They shattered and were torn to bits. Fortunately, the remainder of my body didn’t suffer much damage. Yet I was destined to be a cripple for the rest of my life.
“Later, my father discovered that I had a rare innate disorder that caused the walls of my meridians to be weak and brittle. I noticed as he explained this that his countenance had turned cold. He stopped speaking to me soon after. I lost all status in the clan, and all I could do was maintain a feeble existence. Only my mother still showed affection to me, but her expression of disappointment was unbearable.
“Angry and disheartened, I ran away from the clan. No one stopped me, of course. It was still my dream to become a doctor. If I couldn’t become a spirit doctor, then I would become a mortal doctor!
“I pestered countless academies for admittance, but reality has always been the harshest teacher. I was laughed out of many establishments, and they always informed me mockingly that those who couldn’t cultivate couldn’t practice medicine. Eventually, my funds ran dry, so I became a clerical assistant for a lowly apothecary.
“I continued studying, as I was determined that it was possible to heal the sick without qi or spirit medicine. Soon I saved up enough silver to open a practice in a small shack in the slums of the city. I treated many commoners who were sick and injured using common herbs, acupuncture, and joint-manipulation techniques. I used the results of these early treatments to modify what I had learned from my early education, and after twenty years, I created a book containing all the knowledge I’d gleaned.
“I was convinced that the spirit doctors would be pleased. After all, my medicine was very effective, but I was only practicing on commoners. Not only would this not infringe on their lucrative market, it would relieve them from the pain of having to deal with the world’s common people.”
He sighed. “I was naïve. They said that I was dirtying the name of doctor. Spirit doctors hold themselves to a high standard—how could they allow someone like me, who did not meet these standards, to practice? Therefore, they burned my book and banned me from practicing medicine. If I were caught practicing, they would imprison me, all in the name of preventing harm to innocents. The very same innocents they refused to treat themselves.
“I could only run away and practice in seclusion. As a cripple, I may not be able to do as much as a cultivator. But that doesn’t make my life worthless. There’s always something that can be done. Even if you have a week left in your life, you can still use that strong body to build a house. You can still find something you can help the world with.”
Finishing his cup of tea, Li Yin stood up from his chair and went to treat his next patient.
Weeks flew by. The sun was shining brightly as farmers tended to their fields and sheepherders tended their flocks. Cha Ming saw children playing in the fine summer weather as he walked. They did the usual things that young children did: running through the woods, jumping off tall things, and beating each other with sticks. These children had yet to learn caution and considered themselves invincible.
Cha Ming was carrying a large stack of wood for Li Yin when he saw their naïve horseplay. He was carrying a 200-jin bundle, much more than most men could carry. His current limit was about one quarter of his former strength. Any more and he would begin to feel pain.
I guess it isn’t so bad to live out the rest of my days like this, he thought.
He performed many menial chores every day, helping villagers. With each day that passed, Cha Ming continued coughing up blood and feeling more and more lethargic. It would only be a matter of time before he kicked the bucket. He hadn’t tried recreating his qi pathways since the last incident. He did, however, continue cultivating passively for eight hours every night. It was something he could do instead of sleeping, and the process comforted him.
After arriving at the doctor’s house, he stacked the wood underneath a thick canvas awning that protected it from the rain. These mundane tasks were therapeutic. There was much need for such help in the village, so he hustled to pick up his next batch of wood. This one was for Grandma Li.
He walked back to the forest and hefted a large axe that had been specially crafted for him. A few vicious chops were all it took for him to fell a tree that was two feet thick in diameter. He cut it into smaller pieces, then split and bundled the freshly cut wood. The entire process took less than an hour, which was much faster than what a mere mortal could accomplish.
As he carried the bundle back, he observed the young children and their horseplay. This time, they were playing on the rooftops.
Maybe I should tell them to stop, he thought.
Suddenly, he heard a cracking sound followed by a scream. He quickly dropped his bundle of wood and ran over to the other side of the house, where he saw a boy bawling in pain. His leg was deformed due to the fall and clearly broken.
“There now,” Cha Ming said in a soothing voice. “I’ll take you to see the doctor. He’ll fix you up, don’t you worry.” The boy tried his best to put on a brave face but ultimately couldn’t stop himself from crying. As Cha Ming picked up the young boy, he saw a few kids walking up to him with guilty looks plastered on their faces.
“And that’s why you don’t play around on rooftops, kids,” he said. “Learn your lesson before you break your leg like little Bing here.”
After the quick scolding, he walked toward Li Yin’s house at a brisk pace. Fortunately, only the boy’s shin bone was broken. This sort of break wasn’t life threatening.
A short while later, Cha Ming was sitting on a chair looking at the boy while the doctor made his assessment. He saw him touch several spots on the boy’s leg and ask about pain. He knew from Li Yin’s explanations that he was verifying circulation.
The doctor’s scientific mind amazed Cha Ming. He had dropped several hints over the past two months, superficial information that he had gleaned over his lifetime on Earth about the circulatory system, immunity, and the like. Li Yin quickly took inspiration from the slightest hints and implemented them within a few days of study. In fact, he had devised all sorts of potential experiments he could use to verify each theory.
“Cha Ming, I’ll need your help for this,” Li Yin said.
Cha Ming nodded. It was the reason he’d stuck around for so long. At first he wanted to continue fetching firewood, but Li Yin said he
needed a pair of strong arms.
“All right, little man, just sit still and be brave. Can you do that for me?” the doctor asked. “This will hurt a little, but not much. You can take a little bit of pain, right?”
The boy nodded and put on a brave face. “All right, Cha Ming, I need you to force these two bones apart and realign them as I guide. Are you ready?”
Cha Ming nodded, and at the doctor’s signal, he used a fraction of his strength to adjust as the doctor indicated. The boy screamed and struggled, but fortunately, Li Yin had anticipated this and kept him still. He continued to guide Cha Ming with one hand until the bone was finally set in place. He then created a splint with wood and cloth.
“Remember, this will swell a lot and hurt a lot, but you must not remove this splint until I tell you to. Is that clear?”
The boy nodded miserably.
“Now that that problem is fixed, how did you break your finger?” the doctor asked.
“This?” the boy asked, perplexed. He held up a finger, which was quite red in the middle. The finger was clearly crooked and aching. “This happened last week. We were playing sword fighting with sticks, and I got hit on the finger. It hurt pretty bad, but it’s getting better.”
“I see,” Li Yin said. “You’ve broken your finger, and it’s already started healing. If it continues healing, that finger will cause you problems for the rest of your life. You should let me fix it.”
The boy hesitated, but he ultimately nodded in acquiescence. He had seen the doctor many times before and trusted him unconditionally.
“That’s a brave boy,” Li Yin continued. “Now, I’m sorry to say that this is going to hurt as well, though not as much as the other bone because it’s smaller. You’re brave enough to handle that, aren’t you?”
The boy winced but didn’t protest.
“Cha Ming, when a bone is broken, it sometimes comes together at a strange angle and heals together. Unfortunately, when you heal this way, it will lead to deformities in the bones. His finger won’t function properly, and it will hamper his progress in life. I need you to break his finger again, at this point here.” He pointed to the finger.
Light in the Darkness Page 6
