Blood Pill Great Medicine.
Hearing those words, alongside the mysterious voice's grim judgment, An Jing felt his breath turn ragged. His vision blurred, his once rock-steady steps faltered, and he bit his lip so hard it bled.
Then, he laughed.
"Ha, haha... is this what Deputy Envoy Yao wanted me to see?"
An Jing muttered to himself as he raised his head, looking around at the dozens of "medicine vats."
The numbers did not add up. Perhaps not all of the eliminated were turned into "medicine"; a fair number might become riders or servants, but... was there any real difference?
"Manor Lord, oh Manor Lord..."
An Jing actually calmed down instead. "What kind of reaction were you expecting from me?
"Indifference? Anger? Hatred? Or... fear?"
He searched his heart, and the answer came.
—Of course it's fear, An Jing. Did you think you felt no fear?
—To survive, to avoid suspicion, you lived feigning ignorance. Did you truly never ignore those possibilities, never pretend not to see the clues, never subconsciously avert your gaze?
—You comforted yourself, telling yourself that those people wouldn't necessarily die. You told yourself you were different from them—a genius. Even if someone were to be devoured, it would never be you. You were the one who could feast; you belonged to a higher class than them.
—As long as you still fear, as long as you still dread death, you will gradually fall, convincing yourself at every step.
—The Demon Sect saw through you long ago. Whether you are deeply loyal or cold and heartless doesn't matter. As long as you feel fear, they have nothing to dread from you.
"I'm... not afraid of death!"
Taking a deep breath, An Jing was about to retort, but a sudden shiver ran down his spine.
For just now, he had suddenly understood: he himself might truly not fear death, but he feared something far more—the death of those around him.
Just like a man who could face his own sacrifice without flinching, yet hesitated the moment he thought of his elderly parents, his family, his kin, his closest friends.
It was not a lack of courage, but the possession of a weakness.
In Suspended Fate Manor, he still had two living friends: Gu Yeqi and Cang Linzu were alive. Besides them, there were over a hundred children who called him Senior Brother.
He could not act rashly.
If he were a truly ruthless, heartless fiend already subtly corrupted by the Demon Sect, he would not rebel against them over what lay before his eyes. Instead, he would choose to assimilate, to become one of them, to become the person who decided "who gets sacrificed."
To become the next "Manor Lord Yao," or an even higher-ranking "Northern Circuit Envoy."
And if he were a good, righteous man of deep affection, even upon discovering all of this, he still would not turn against them for the sake of his two surviving friends. Not to mention, the Demon Sect had, after all, provided the medicinal herbs that saved his mother. Were he a purely virtuous man, he would hesitate and shrink back, choosing out of this "debt of gratitude" to become one of them.
And in the end, be assimilated.
He could not have it both ways—keeping his friends safe and sound while also standing against the Demon Sect.
He could not avoid failing benevolence, failing friendship, and failing his own heart all at once.
Because someone who tried to do all of that was either the most foolish of mediocrities or a monster beyond all common reason.
He was neither.
And most sorrowful of all was what An Jing came to realize.
"My thoughts... really had begun shifting toward the Demon Sect's way of thinking... I actually found myself thinking that these were just children who would have died in natural disasters anyway, whose lives had been bought by the Demon Sect. That once eliminated and killed, they had no right to complain, since the Demon Sect had let them live a little longer and taken good care of them for a time.
"Yet even so—even if their lives were bought—are they not allowed to resist when facing death?"
He stared at that skull. "I..."
—What on earth should I do?
"Kid, steady your mind,"
the mysterious voice said. "This is exactly what the Demon Sect wants—in moments of immense sorrow and fury, when the mind is shaken, your heart will make choices it would never make under normal circumstances."
"I understand."
Taking one last deep look at the skull scraped bone-white, An Jing reached up and wiped his face.
It had the wet touch of rain, mixed with the salty taste of tears.
He replaced the stone lid and shifted his now-clear vision away from the courtyard of vats. "I understand better than anyone."
"What do you intend to do now?"
the mysterious voice asked. "Flee, or seek vengeance? Or perhaps...
"Do you plan to ignore these people who have little to do with you and keep playing Eldest Senior Brother here?"
An Jing closed his eyes. He thought of the boiled flesh and blood in the refugee camps, of the children who had been eaten.
He had wanted to believe. He had wanted to believe that this world truly had a group of people willing to pay the price to teach a flock of children, instructing them in martial arts, training them, and bringing them into their fold. That was what a martial sect had looked like in his mind.
He had harbored such illusions, hoping the world could be that pure, peaceful, and tranquil—that he could ease his mind, play his role as Eldest Senior Brother, gradually let down his guard, and eventually fight for Suspended Fate Manor.
Yet all those illusions were shattered now.
At this moment, An Jing felt no raging fury burning like a furnace in his heart. All he felt was a bone-chilling, trembling realization.
—So no matter where one goes, one gets eaten?
—If one doesn't want to be eaten, one has to eat others?
This world, this realm...
I...
will never give you what you want!
Opening his eyes once more, An Jing's gaze had regained its brightness.
Within his eyes, sparks of fire ignited. "I once told my mother that if those who bought my life turned out to be evil demons and heretics, I would find a chance to escape and never collude with them.
"Yet now, I want to do more. I want it all.
"I will escape with my companions.
"I don't want to eat others, nor do I want to be eaten! As long as I witness it, I will definitely resist!"
Almost grinding his teeth, he said, "Even if it's impossible, I will try—even if the outcome is death."
—Even like a rabbit whose life has already been bought, or a crab trapped in a cage, I will still give them a kick, give them a pinch!
"Very good."
The crisp, resonant voice of the sword laughed, carrying the harsh ring of cold steel. "I truly did not misjudge you.
"Those Demon Sect cultists think they have you completely in their grasp, that you cannot escape their palms, and so they let you roam free. They were wrong—because I am here, and because they never saw through your true nature.
"An Jing, your thinking was indeed correct. Those who demand to have it all are either the most foolish of mediocrities or monsters beyond all common reason. A true genius you may be, but you are not yet a monster capable of transcending all this.
"Yet I will give you the chance to become a monster beyond all common reason. Whether you succeed in the end, however, will depend entirely on yourself.
"Now, first suppress the demonic thoughts in your heart. I shall transmit to you a visualization method—the foundation of all arts..."
Before the words finished echoing, an incantation and visualization method flowed directly into An Jing's mind.
"Spirit originates from the Dao, and the Dao is tranquil; thus, the spirit is fundamentally tranquil in itself...
"The spirit is like a mirror: if clouded in darkness, sweep it with thought, and it shall shine. The spirit is like water: if stirred to turbidity, subdue it with the heart, and it shall run clear. The spirit is like a sword: if corroded by rust, hone it with resolve, and it shall turn sharp. This is tranquility and clarity..."
*Tranquil Sword Contemplation.*
Chapter 22