Chapter Two: The Azure Infant

Within the shadowy thatched cottage, not a single oil lamp was lit.

Chen Xuan rummaged through drawers and cabinets, searching desperately for medicine, but upon arriving he found himself confronted with countless bottles and jars—how was he to know which held the antidote?

This damned Five Venoms Sect, one could tell at a glance it was a demonic cult.

Indeed, there was never anything good to be found among such sects! They even used their own disciples as bait for poison!

Still, he only needed to survive one day; by tomorrow night, everything would improve.

If he managed to endure a day, the task would be complete, and with enough experience, his Iron Shirt technique would surely advance again.

He wondered if this panel truly operated just like the games of his previous life.

In those games, experience points could not be directly allocated to inner force or stamina. To enhance those attributes, there was only one method: raise the mastery levels of various skills.

Techniques varied in rank, but all cultivation was divided into six stages: Initiate, Novice, Established, Mastery, Perfection, and Grand Achievement.

Each step with different techniques increased strength by varying amounts.

For example, the Iron Shirt—a common skill in games—advanced from Initiate to Novice would grant only forty pounds of strength.

Luohan Fist, on the other hand, from Initiate to Novice would grant forty-five pounds.

Such differences arose from the rank and properties of the techniques.

It was no different for inner force cultivation.

Take the Nine Yang Divine Skill: advancing from Initiate to Novice would instantly grant fifteen years of inner force, and the further one progressed, the more terrifying it became!

In game conversions, one year of inner force was equivalent to forty stamina.

Thus, fifteen years meant six hundred stamina!

But the Nine Yang Divine Skill was a heavenly-level secret manual, rarely encountered by ordinary people.

Moreover, cultivating inner force was never so simple—some managed from Initiate to Novice in a year, others might spend ten or twenty years without reaching it. The claim that Nine Yang Divine Skill granted fifteen years of inner force from Initiate to Novice was made in comparison to the common “Qi Guiding Formula.”

In the games of his previous life, all inner force cultivation was benchmarked against the “Qi Guiding Formula.”

For instance, Primordial Skill would grant eight years of inner force from Initiate to Novice, meaning eight years’ worth of Qi Guiding Formula cultivation. Nine Yang Divine Skill, fifteen years, likewise compared.

Thus, the Qi Guiding Formula was a unit of inner force, much like Newton’s “n” in his past life.

“Find medicine, find medicine, damn it, which one are you?” Chen Xuan muttered in frustration.

So many medicines—what was what?

He groped around the table and suddenly found a fire striker. Extracting it carefully, he blew until it sparked, then used it to light an oil lamp.

Immediately, the interior of the cottage brightened.

Yet even with light, he couldn’t tell which was the antidote.

On a nearby shelf, besides bottles and jars, were many thin books.

Chen Xuan instinctively began to look through them.

All were medical texts, but in his former life he’d been a mere homebody—how could he possibly understand any of this?

While he fretted, the sounds of commotion erupted outside.

“Someone’s dead!”

“Another death! Hurry, someone come!”

“Catch the assassin!”

Clang, clang, clang—the sound of gongs and drums echoed.

Chen Xuan was startled.

What? Someone dead?

He instinctively wanted to go out, but quickly realized his thigh was numb, movement difficult; if he left now, he would surely die.

From watching countless martial arts films, he knew that assassins prowling at night favored slaughtering minor lackeys—a casual stroke, always fatal.

Terrified, Chen Xuan shivered.

Damn it, wasn’t he just such a lackey right now?

Suddenly, inspiration struck; he blew out the oil lamp, swiftly hid inside a cabinet, held his breath, and dared not make a sound.

The cottage plunged into darkness, while shouts and noises swelled outside.

Hiding within the cabinet, Chen Xuan suddenly felt a draft. He reached back and realized, to his horror, there was a hole chewed through the back, likely by mice—his fingers could touch the outside.

He hurriedly withdrew his hand, anxiety mounting, and cautiously peered through the hole.

In the distance, torchlight flickered and chaos reigned—gongs and bells were struck, countless voices shouted, but he could not discern what was happening.

Just as he puzzled over it, his eyes narrowed in terror at a bizarre scene.

Beneath the dim moonlight, a small, thin figure crawled across the ground at an unbelievable speed…

At first, he thought it was a monkey or a fox, but as the figure drew closer, he was horrified.

It was an infant.

Only twelve inches tall…

With indigo-blue skin, a deathly pale face, pitch-black eyes, an eerie smile, and blood smeared across its mouth.

It moved on all fours, crawling rapidly…

“What is that?” Chen Xuan was aghast.

Suddenly, the infant seemed to sense his gaze. Its strange black eyes snapped toward Chen Xuan, and in that instant, Chen Xuan’s soul quivered, his heart nearly burst.

He didn’t know why, but a terrible fear seized him, as if the creature’s gaze carried a dreadful power.

He hurriedly clamped a hand over his mouth to stifle a scream, shrinking further into the cabinet, refusing to look again.

“Hehehe…” the infant let out a chilling laugh and swiftly crawled toward Chen Xuan.

Hearing its approach, Chen Xuan’s terror grew; his hair stood on end.

He could no longer contain himself—he pushed open the cabinet door and fled the cottage, shouting, “Help! Someone, save me!”

“Hehehe…” the eerie laughter echoed behind him.

Looking back, he saw the cabinet he had hidden in shatter, and the small blue infant emerged, head poking through, smiling wickedly at him.

Chen Xuan was even more horrified.

“Mother!” he screamed, scrambling away on hands and feet.

The blue infant lunged at him.

At that moment—

“Impudent!” a thunderous shout rang out, causing Chen Xuan’s ears to buzz painfully.

With a crack, the window shattered; a grey-clad figure burst in. A fierce gust swept forth, acrid and pungent, directly striking the blue infant.

Bang! Bang!

Two dull impacts.

Chen Xuan grunted as the residual force blasted him sideways, sending him sprawling outside—he almost coughed blood and felt utterly miserable.

The blue infant was likewise sent flying, slamming hard against a pillar.

The terrifying palm force landed squarely on it; Chen Xuan suffered only from the aftershock.

It shrieked shrilly, eyes venomous, baring its sharp, needle-like fangs. Suddenly, it spun and fled, moving swiftly on all fours like a spider.

The grey-clad figure was startled.

What was that?

For days, deaths had plagued the Five Venoms Sect. He had assumed some heretical practitioner was behind it, and had waited in secret to capture the culprit—never expecting it would be an infant?

As the blue infant turned to escape, the grey figure shouted and gave chase.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

Whoosh! Whoosh!

Both figures vanished into the darkness.

Chen Xuan coughed violently, throat filled with a metallic taste; he couldn’t help but spit out a mouthful of blood.

Still shaken, he muttered, “Damn, what was that thing?”

Just then, other Five Venoms Sect disciples, drawn by the commotion, hurried over, shouting.

“Chen Xuan, it’s you! You’re still alive? Why are you here?”

A harsh voice rang out.

Chen Xuan felt miserable and glanced back. It was a gaunt, high-cheekboned youth, holding a torch, staring at him in suspicion.

Who the hell was that?

He wanted to ask.

“Chen Xuan, you’re actually alive? I saw you stop breathing just now!” another surprised voice said.

It was a short, stout youth, looking incredulous.

He and another thin man had tossed Chen Xuan onto the mass grave earlier, but the thin one had just died—body shriveled, bloodless, a pitiful sight.

“Of course I’m not dead!” Chen Xuan snapped.

“Good, as long as you’re alive. Rest and recover; tomorrow you’ll continue. Everyone else, follow me!” the gaunt youth barked, leading the others away to pursue the commotion.

“Wait, I’m injured!” Chen Xuan called.

The short, stout youth paused and looked back. “What’s wrong?”

“I’ve just been struck by palm force and poisoned by the scaled worm. Do you have any medicine?” Chen Xuan asked.

“I can’t help with the palm force, but for the scaled worm’s poison, take this,” the stout youth replied, tossing Chen Xuan a small black bottle before dashing off without pause.

“Wait, there was just a monster!” Chen Xuan shouted.

But the stout youth had already joined the others, heading off.

“Damn, was it really a monster?” Chen Xuan cursed. He grabbed the black bottle, poured out a foul-smelling, black pill—so rank it was almost unbearable.

Could he really eat this?

He hesitated, then took a tentative lick. Instantly, his throat burned, making his eyes water.

Yet the thing worked wonders—his thigh’s numbness and stiffness rapidly faded.

“So effective?” Chen Xuan marveled, licking a few more times before swallowing the pill, then gazed into the distance.

All around was empty; only he remained.

He shivered and hurried toward his quarters.

What on earth was that infant? Could it really be a monster?

The Five Venoms Sect was certainly not a good place!

Now, he finally had some understanding of this task.

No wonder the requirement was to survive a day.

It was barely two hours in—still a long way to go…

As he ran, Chen Xuan suddenly stopped.

Wait!

He couldn’t return so easily.

His predecessor had been killed by Fang Dao, and now that he was seen alive, Fang Dao would likely use him as poison bait again tomorrow morning—so he absolutely couldn’t go back.

That high-cheekboned youth from before seemed to be Fang Dao.

After thinking it over, Chen Xuan hurried to the kitchen, grabbed a dozen steamed buns and a jar of pickled vegetables, then returned to his quarters.

Once back, he immediately crawled under the bed, feeling it wasn’t safe enough, so he piled up tattered clothes and broken boxes in front of him for extra protection.

Gnawing on a bun, pickled vegetables on the side, he grew increasingly aggrieved.

Damn it, at this hour he should be at home enjoying fragrant instant noodles.

Yet here he was, chewing cold buns.