Chapter Six: The Immortal Martial Soul

The Heartbreak Powder slid down his throat into his stomach, and Shi Yan felt a dull, gnawing pain begin to stir in his gut. It was as if a slow-acting acid was being poured into his intestines, corroding them little by little, the agony inside him growing with each passing moment.

“Heartbreak Powder is exceedingly potent,” Karu said, his eyes narrowed, his tone unhurried. “But it doesn’t strike at once. It advances slowly. For a normal person, in two days their insides will have decayed completely; in three days, the rot will spread through the body, resulting in a gruesome death.”

“No rush, then. Let’s wait a day and see,” Mo Yanyu replied with a nod, casting a gleeful glance at Shi Yan before walking away in high spirits alongside Karu.

“Heh, kid, your good days are over,” Johnson bared his teeth in a broad grin, laughing heartily. The thought of Shi Yan soon rotting away filled him with a sense of relief, as if a heavy weight had finally lifted from his heart.

Shi Yan kept his head lowered, his gaze cold and sinister.

He could already feel the Heartbreak Powder begin its work, a sensation as if millions of ants were swarming his intestines, gnawing them bit by bit in a frenzied struggle for territory. But within his abdomen, that strand of vital essence he’d cultivated lately began to circulate, quickly surging into his stomach and intestines. Like a gentle, nourishing stream, the essence washed over the poison, slowing the rate at which the Heartbreak Powder corroded his insides. Shi Yan allowed himself a silent sigh of relief.

A damp breeze drifted past. Shi Yan drew in a deep breath, not bothering to avoid Johnson’s watchful eyes. He simply sat where he was, focusing all his attention on manipulating the vital essence, resisting the poison’s corrosion.

That recently strengthened strand of essence became his lifesaving herb, coursing ceaselessly through his stomach and intestines. With every circuit, the poison’s progress slowed, never able to accelerate. Only now did Shi Yan truly appreciate the marvel of vital essence, his determination to master it and become a supreme warrior growing ever stronger.

If just essence alone offered such benefits, what power must the legendary “Martial Spirit”—the divine talent revered by warriors—hold? If he could awaken such a spirit, how much stronger might he become, how much suffering might he avoid?

A pang of resentment struck Shi Yan as he rued this body’s inability to inherit the Shi Clan’s “Petrification Martial Spirit.” Had he possessed it, perhaps he could have fought back against Mo Yanyu’s “Lightning Martial Spirit” and escaped, rather than being forced to swallow this deadly Heartbreak Powder.

Time slipped by. The moonlight grew colder, and soon it was deep into the night. The martial artists, weary from a day’s journey, had all settled down, each seeking a comfortable spot to cultivate their essence, striving to break through bodily shackles, ascend in rank, and gain greater power.

The drug slaves gazed up at the sky. In the silent night, thoughts of distant loved ones and gnawing fear came easily. Each time they remembered they might be chosen for experimentation tomorrow—transformed into nothing more than fresh corpses—despair swept through them, chilling them to the bone.

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Under the moon’s pale light, Shi Yan sat cross-legged, the calm on his face gradually giving way to grave concern.

Five hours of circulating essence had contained the spread of the Heartbreak Powder, but bit by bit, he realized a third of his vital energy had been depleted—and the drain continued!

Yet the poison lingering in his gut showed no sign of abating; on the contrary, its persistence seemed inexhaustible.

It was as if the Heartbreak Powder was lying in wait, ready to strike back the moment his essence ran dry.

Shi Yan felt a chill throughout his body.

Once his essence was exhausted, he would have nothing left to rely on. At that point, with no means to resist, his fate would be the same as any other ordinary man—his body would rot from within, the decay spreading until it claimed his life.

He had no other options.

In this state, cultivating to replenish his essence was impossible. Should he focus on recovery, the Heartbreak Powder would immediately accelerate, hastening his demise.

So, even knowing this path would only lead to death, he had no choice but to persist.

Another two hours slipped by.

The poison showed no sign of weakening; in fact, it grew stronger, and his vital essence was being consumed even faster—he could feel it clearly!

He seemed to see himself drawing closer to death itself…

When his essence ran out, his gut would rot. He wouldn’t die immediately; the decay would spread to his organs, and within five or six days, he would perish like all the other drug slaves—his body thoroughly decomposed.

Shi Yan’s face was grim, his eyes sharp as icicles, their cold glare fixed on Mo Yanyu, perched atop a distant ancient tree.

Bathed in moonlight, Mo Yanyu sat serenely on the thick branch, her skin pale as frost, her delicate features tranquil, long hair gently swaying in the night breeze like a spirit of darkness. Oblivious to Shi Yan’s venomous gaze, she quietly cultivated, nurturing the “Lightning Martial Spirit” within her veins.

Karu rested at the rear of the group, left hand hidden in his loose sleeve, leaning against another old tree, his right hand holding a poison manual, which he read with relish.

From time to time, Karu glanced in Shi Yan’s direction, a malicious smile playing at his lips.

This can’t go on, Shi Yan thought, frowning deeply as he continued channeling essence to resist the poison while desperately seeking a solution.

At this rate, his essence would be depleted before dawn. Once it was gone, death was inevitable. The poison within him meant that escape would change nothing. The only way out was Karu.

Since Karu could concoct Heartbreak Powder, he must have the antidote. Only by obtaining it from Karu could Shi Yan hope to avoid his fate. But Karu was not only an alchemist but also a martial artist of the Innate Realm—snatching the antidote from him was as good as suicide.

Shi Yan observed quietly and confirmed that Karu, though absorbed in his reading, was vigilant—he glanced over frequently, clearly wary, perhaps even expecting Shi Yan to make a move.

One thought after another raced through his mind. Though the chances of success were nearly zero, Shi Yan knew he had to act—and quickly. The less essence he had, the slimmer his chances became.

He silently adjusted his breathing, ignoring the poison within for the moment, drawing all his essence back to prepare for a desperate gambit.

As he anticipated, the moment he withdrew his essence, the Heartbreak Powder surged, its toxic spread quickening, and the pain in his body intensified.

But just as he was about to make his move, something unexpected happened in his already corroded gut.

The decayed areas suddenly stirred to life; faint, threadlike energies wove through the rotted flesh, as if an invisible hand were stitching his intestines back together. Gradually, the damaged tissue began to heal…

Shi Yan froze in astonishment.

He abandoned his rash intent and instead focused all his senses inward, observing this bizarre transformation.

His cells had become astonishingly active, as though suddenly infused with life. The necrotic flesh twitched ever so slightly and soon, the wounds closed. In just half an hour, the damage had fully repaired itself, and the pain was gone.

A surge of joy electrified him, though his face remained impassive, as tranquil as a man in deep sleep.

Any anomaly that did not require the use of essence was, without exception, a special “Martial Spirit”—so said the classic definition that now flashed through Shi Yan’s mind. He pondered for a moment and immediately realized that this wondrous change was the emergence of a unique Martial Spirit within him.

Physical regeneration—a rare innate talent, perhaps an as-yet-undiscovered miraculous Martial Spirit!

Once more the Heartbreak Powder struck, corroding his gut. Without essence to stave it off, the poison quickly ate away at his flesh. Yet, remarkably, the self-healing Martial Spirit acted again, restoring the damage before the next wave of poison could do further harm.

Again and again, the poison struck, and each time the Martial Spirit repaired the damage, never allowing the decay to progress.

Martial Spirits grew stronger as their wielders advanced, sometimes even developing new abilities. The higher the cultivation, the greater the power of the spirit.

Another maxim about Martial Spirits came unbidden to his mind, and Shi Yan’s heart leapt with elation. If his self-healing spirit grew with his cultivation, then no matter how badly his body was injured, it could heal rapidly. At the highest ranks—Heaven or even Divine—could this power regenerate severed limbs? Or, if stabbed through the heart, could he recover and cheat death itself?

If so, then upon reaching the True God Realm, would he not be immortal?

A torrent of thoughts swept through him. After careful consideration, he decided to name this wondrous ability the “Undying Martial Spirit.”

He spent a few more moments silently acclimating, and once he was certain the Undying Martial Spirit could withstand the Heartbreak Powder, Shi Yan finally relaxed. He abandoned the desperate plan to steal the antidote from Karu, remaining motionless, letting the battle within play out, and quietly began to restore his essence.

…

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