Chapter Four: The Medicine Slave

The gentle murmur of flowing water, lush trees casting deep shade—a land dragon drank from the clear riverbank, its body laden with parcels of all sizes.

Beside the dragon, a dozen or so burly warriors feasted heartily, their laughter echoing as they spoke of topics unsuitable for children. Behind the dragon, a similar number of emaciated figures crouched on the ground, heavy shackles binding their hands and feet, their eyes dull as they ate the meager food allotted to them.

Within a sedan chair mounted on the land dragon, an elder with a cold and sinister expression sat, clad in a long robe of black and gray. On the chest of his robe were embroidered five exquisite white medicine bottles. The old man was gaunt, his hair crowned, gazing down at the shackled prisoners as if selecting pigs for slaughter.

His eyes wandered restlessly, occasionally fixing upon the warriors as he revealed a chilling, inscrutable look. Each warrior singled out by his gaze turned pale, their faces stricken with fear, as if they dreaded him immensely.

"Are you finished eating? If so, get moving," Mo Yanyu said, dragging Shi Yan with her, her face cold as she emerged from the thicket.

The warriors awkwardly put away their unfinished meals, repeating, "We're done, we're done."

Mo Yanyu, impatient, forced a smile only when she approached the elder. "Master Karu, have you finished eating as well?"

Karu nodded indifferently. "Miss Mo, there are still three months' journey to the Merchant Alliance, but you’ve only managed to find sixteen medicine slaves. I doubt they'll last until we arrive..."

"Rest assured, Master. We’ll continue to replenish your medicine slaves along the way." Mo Yanyu’s expression was serious. She casually tossed Shi Yan to the ground and smiled. "See, here’s another medicine slave for you."

"Hmm." Karu nodded coolly, his gaze slithering over Shi Yan like a venomous snake. He frowned, "This boy is so thin—he might not last more than a few days."

"He is frail, yes, but he has refined essence within him..." Mo Yanyu explained.

"A warrior?" Karu's eyes brightened slightly, his interest piqued.

"Indeed, a warrior!" Mo Yanyu affirmed.

"Much better," Karu said with a sinister smile, scrutinizing Shi Yan more closely. After a while, he nodded slowly, "Very good. Miss Mo, feed him well. I want his body strong before I begin. A severely wounded warrior can’t withstand my methods. If he dies too soon from weakness, that would be such a waste."

"Rest assured, Master." Mo Yanyu’s brows gathered with murderous intent. She snapped, "Johnson, what are you standing there for? Hurry up and put shackles on this one!"

"Right away!" boomed a hulking, bald man nearly two meters tall, his face fierce as he quickly fetched a new set of shackles from the land dragon and clamped them roughly on Shi Yan’s wrists and ankles, indifferent to his pain.

Johnson wore heavy armor, his exposed muscles bulging with explosive power. The dark armor seemed weightless on him, not slowing his movements in the slightest.

"Johnson, keep a close eye on him. Don’t let him fall behind," Mo Yanyu shot Shi Yan a hateful look before marching to the head of the convoy, unwilling to linger near him for another moment.

"Don’t worry, Miss. This is what I do best," Johnson grinned savagely, pounding his chest in assurance.

%%%

Shi Yan’s body was numb and sore as he watched events unfold with cold eyes, silent.

He knew that words were useless in such circumstances. In this world where the strong prey upon the weak, no one would reason with him. If he didn’t adapt, he would soon become a forgotten pile of bones, pitied by none.

The faint refined essence in his body flowed slowly. After some rest, the numbness in his limbs had eased considerably. Yet the new shackles weighed him down like a mountain of iron, making every step arduous.

Suddenly—crack!—a whip lashed viciously across his back, tearing flesh and searing pain. Looking back, Shi Yan saw the brute named Johnson grinning, whip in hand.

"Damned medicine slave! Move it! Want another taste?" Johnson laughed cruelly.

Shi Yan did not reply. He stared coolly at Johnson for several seconds, only moving forward with difficulty when Johnson raised the whip again, silently joining the other medicine slaves ahead. Each step felt impossibly heavy, draining his strength.

After Shi Yan turned away, Johnson’s wild grin faded, replaced by a strange expression.

Many unruly medicine slaves had been "disciplined" by Johnson along the way. His methods were brutal and merciless—two slaves had died under his care before ever undergoing Karu’s medicines. Whenever the medicine slaves looked at him, their eyes showed only two emotions: terror or deep hatred.

But this one—when he looked at Johnson, he showed neither fear nor hatred, only an unnervingly calm composure, with a faint chill.

He seemed unaware of his status as a prisoner, whether out of ignorance or something else. That calm gaze gave Johnson the odd sense of being hunted himself, which unsettled him. Yet since Shi Yan was behaving, Johnson had no excuse to act, though he swore inwardly he would make the boy show fear before long.

He relished the fear in others’ eyes—it made him feel like the master of their lives.

%%%

In the days that followed, Shi Yan spoke little and cooperated fully. He walked when told, stopped when ordered, never resisting or showing emotion, indifferent to everything around him. Among the rebellious medicine slaves, Shi Yan was an anomaly.

Even Johnson, eager to teach him a lesson, struggled to find any pretext—Shi Yan’s obedience was so thorough it seemed unnatural, though the reason eluded him.

Shi Yan only spoke at mealtimes, always to request more food. At Karu’s command, his requests were always granted.

Soon, the warriors noticed Shi Yan had an enormous appetite. Even the poor rations fed to medicine slaves he ate with relish. The first meal he consumed equaled the share of seven slaves, and each day his intake increased further.

This astonished the warriors. They could not fathom how his frail body could contain so much food. At first, they worried he would be unable to digest it, but soon realized they were mistaken.

Shi Yan’s skeletal body grew stronger day by day—not dramatically, but the keen-eyed warriors saw the change.

Clearly, he not only digested the food but turned it into nourishment, making his body healthier.

Shi Yan’s physical improvement pleased Master Karu greatly. The sinister elder decreed that Shi Yan could eat as much as he wanted; he must be provided all he could consume, not a bit less.

Watching Shi Yan grow stronger, Johnson felt uneasy. Each time he saw the boy’s cold, chilling gaze, Johnson sensed he might become a threat. Yet he dared not disobey Karu’s orders, so he dutifully provided all the food Shi Yan needed.

Fortunately, Johnson was confident in Karu’s methods, which gave him some reassurance. He secretly hoped Karu would act soon.

%%%

After consuming twelve slaves’ worth of food, Shi Yan finally stopped, swallowing the last grain of rice and ignoring the astonished glances of the other medicine slaves. He closed his eyes slowly.

The twelve portions were swiftly digested, his body like a bottomless pit or a precision instrument, grinding and absorbing every morsel, transforming it into nourishment for his blood, bones, organs, and muscles, steadily strengthening his once-frail body.

The wound on his chest had long since healed. The lengthy gash closed in just a day and a half, leaving not the slightest scar—a miraculous recovery that made him realize he was no longer the same as before.

Only he knew how profound the changes had been in these few short days. Every moment, he could sense and feel them clearly.

The food he ate became nourishment, making his body robust. The refined essence within him had doubled in strength after days of relentless circulation.

He sensed new power in his body. The once-heavy shackles felt much less burdensome.

Focusing his mind, Shi Yan felt the refined essence naturally flow from his lower dantian, ascending through the Du Meridian, descending along the Ren Meridian, passing three gates to link Ren and Du, allowing heart and kidneys to meet, water and fire in harmony. After a cycle of small circulation, his essence grew even stronger.

With some knowledge of martial arts, Shi Yan knew the difference between small and large circulations. Small circulation only traversed the Ren and Du Meridians, not the twelve main channels nor the other six extraordinary channels. Large circulation required all twelve main channels and six extraordinary channels—a feat not easily achieved.

Among his meridians, only Ren and Du were open, so he could only manage small circulation; large circulation was impossible. From the other Shi Yan’s memories, he knew that only warriors of the Xiantian realm could freely traverse all twelve main channels and eight extraordinary channels, achieving large circulation.

Shi Yan was not discouraged. He understood that as long as his refined essence was strong enough, he could eventually open all blocked meridians.

"Another one is dead. In six days, two have died from the medicines."

"I saw it. Before he died, his body was already rotting. It was horrifying!"

"Better to die by our own hand than like that. There’s no hope for us—we’re doomed to end up the same."

"We can’t kill ourselves! If we die by suicide, our families won’t get even a single Blue Crystal coin! We have to endure. If we survive half a year, we gain our freedom and a sum of money. For our wives and children, we must keep going!"

Upon hearing this, the other medicine slaves fell silent. The thought of suicide faded, each silently urging themselves to endure.

...

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