Chapter 64: What Does It Mean to Really Want to Be Human?

Beidou Qi Refining Dojo.

Under the watchful eyes of towering, imposing statues of Luo Han, Jia Ji walked in, heart pounding with unease.

Fate, that troublesome thing, seemed to have already wrapped itself around him—whether it was his lucky encounter with his brothers being away, or being found just in time by Yu Bo, or just now…

The invisible hand of the Big Dipper began to exert its force.

Should he be glad it wasn’t the Death Star that started acting? Though the backlash was heavy, at least he still had his life.

But Jia Ji had no choice—time was short, the task urgent. To obtain his brother Jia Qi’s blood before Master Long Quan returned, he had to grit his teeth and step into the main Beidou Hall, where countless gods and Buddhas were enshrined.

“Still got the guts to come back, coward?”

The first to speak was Luo Han.

True, Long Quan hadn’t told anyone why Jia Ji left—because no one would believe him, and because nowhere in this world was better suited for cultivating Beidou Divine Fist than the Beidou sect’s own headquarters.

Where else could Jia Ji go if he claimed he wanted to grow stronger?

Though he harbored such doubts, Long Quan still gave Jia Ji his trust and support.

But in Luo Han’s eyes, this brother who left without a word was nothing but a coward who couldn’t endure the hardship of training and ran away.

Given Luo Han’s nature, he would never pay even a shred of attention to such a waste—just a sneer, not even another word.

Yet, just now, when Jia Ji decisively intervened in the Nan Dou trial, the sheer audacity he displayed—so unlike the image Luo Han had of him—had briefly caught his eye.

“Luo Han, don’t…”

Jia Qi was different—he was genuinely happy to see his brother Jia Ji return.

And if not for him, Ken Shi Lang might not have returned so easily—then how would Jia Qi explain it to Master Long Quan?

Jia Qi had fulfilled his duty as an elder brother, but he himself had not—and it filled him with regret and shame, until all those feelings condensed into one sentence—

“Come back, Jia Ji. Master Long Quan misses you.”

“Hmph, Jia Qi, you’re so high and mighty! What DPS are you quoting to say that? I’ll carve out my own path by myself!”

Jia Ji fired off a barrage of incomprehensible words and refused without hesitation.

He’d said before he left that he’d only return when he could beat everyone else—how could he come back now, still stuck at the level of the third brother among the four? He’d at least need Luo Han to say, “He’s not below me,” before he dared show his face again.

If not to return to training, then why had Jia Ji come?

“Jia Qi, give me one drop of your blood.”

Straightforward request.

“Why do you need my blood?”

Had he accidentally been turned into a vampire by the Stone Mask and now needed blood to survive? But what use was just one drop? Could he be planning to clone himself? Or was this some evil fist technique requiring blood to cultivate…?

A flood of wild thoughts surged through Jia Qi’s mind—Jia Ji’s cryptic words were enough to confuse anyone.

Yet Jia Qi hesitated only briefly before agreeing.

Sometimes, he could sense others’ thoughts and intentions—Jia Ji held no malice toward him now, and his strong intuition as a Beidou fist master let him vaguely feel that fulfilling this strange request might benefit him.

So, though gentle and kind, Jia Qi was never indecisive—he agreed without delay.

He, who showed no signs of illness, pressed two fingers together and lightly sliced his wrist.

A wound, about an inch long, appeared silently; round, hot, crimson droplets spilled out uncontrollably.

Though he hadn’t trained his fingers to be as sharp as blades like the Nan Dou fist masters—capable of cutting through nearly all matter—he could still easily slice skin by simply altering the form of his combat energy release.

After all, he had just fought dozens of Nan Dou fist users, and had already gained insight into their cutting techniques—this was merely a slight imitation.

He only needed to extract the essence of those countless fist styles and integrate them into his Beidou Divine Fist; going further was unnecessary.

“Enough, enough—one drop is enough.”

Carefully collecting dozens of Jia Qi’s blood droplets into a glass vial and sealing it, Jia Ji pulled a bandage from his pant pocket, tore it open, and slapped it directly onto Jia Qi’s wound.

“You brought this along?”

“Better safe than sorry.”

Actually, he’d just picked these up from the Mohawks—he’d automatically collected them along with cash, thinking they might come in handy, and never expected the chance to use them so soon.

“Really…”

Jia Qi shook his head. For fist masters of their caliber, injuries were routine—this minor cut would likely heal before treatment could even begin. Jia Ji’s gesture was utterly unnecessary… yet as he shook his head, he smiled.

People of their level possessed power far beyond ordinary humans, yet this power also created a gulf between them and humanity—hard to understand, harder to accept.

To ordinary people, they were as fragile as porcelain—so delicate that even a light touch could shatter them. They had to constantly restrain their strength just to coexist with them.

And from the ordinary people’s perspective, it was the same: though they looked human, their bodies couldn’t be pierced by bullets, their frames couldn’t be toppled by tanks—they were no longer the same species.

Fear, rejection, alienation, or viewing weaker humans as inferior beings—these were perfectly normal for superhuman fist masters.

Had their training grounds not been nearly isolated from the world, and had their grueling routines not left them no mental space for such thoughts, they might have unconsciously developed the same belief—

That humanity should be protected—or ruled—by fist masters who mastered the strongest Beidou Divine Fist!

Yet now, this Jia Ji seemed more human than Jia Qi, Luo Han, even Ken Shi Lang…

“The sorrow of the fist… what a troublesome thing. This is how fist arts distort humanity!”

Muttering this spontaneously coined phrase—accurate in capturing the situation—Jia Ji walked toward the exit of the Beidou Hall, waving farewell to his three brothers.

But as his foot hovered mid-air, just before crossing the threshold, Jia Ji’s expression suddenly changed—a strange sensation washed over him.

“No way? Again?!”

(End of Chapter)