Chapter 22: Medicated Beasts

Xu Yuan clearly felt that ahead lay a terrifying beast, its gaping maw open and waiting silently for him.

Yet he could not suppress this “instinct,” still crawling like a worm toward that dangerous mouth.

The enticing scent grew stronger, and Xu Yuan drew ever closer to the bloodied maw.

He wanted to pinch himself hard, to wake from this nightmare-like state, but his hands refused to obey.

Crawling out from a thicket of scrub, he saw a mountain peak ahead—and the instinct within him surged violently!

A sudden thought rose in his mind: past this peak, he would feast on that deliciousness!

Then Xu Yuan immediately realized: I’m walking straight into the pot as the delicacy.

No more hesitation—he couldn’t control his body, but he could control the fire in his dantian.

“Huu…”

Sparks flew from Xu Yuan’s seven orifices, quickly swelling into roaring flames.

The fire burned his own body; his tattered short tunic turned to ash, then the “fire in the dantian” spread across his entire frame, turning Xu Yuan into a living flame.

When a Pill Cultivator envelops their body in the fire of the dantian, it does not burn them.

But now, Xu Yuan was burning himself alive!

Yet even so, his body remained under the control of the “instinct,” crawling relentlessly forward on the ground.

Anyone who saw this scene would find it horrifying.

Xu Yuan was in excruciating pain, wanting to scream but unable to make a sound; his body was completely beyond his control.

His “fire in the dantian” had already charred his entire skin into a layer of blackened coal!

With a single thought, Xu Yuan could withdraw the fire in his dantian.

But he gritted his teeth and endured the terrible agony.

The “instinct” lay hidden deep within his body, untouched by the fire—it remained unaware.

He held on like this for a long while, until finally the “instinct” began to sense something amiss.

Xu Yuan was crawling beneath an ancient pine; the heat from his flames caused several large drops of pine resin to fall.

The flames surged violently in response.

Overwhelmed by the agony, the instinct finally broke, relinquishing control of his body.

Xu Yuan immediately withdrew the “fire in the dantian” and lay gasping on the ground—daring not to move his chest or abdomen even slightly; every motion sent piercing pain through him.

Now, his entire body was blackened, cracked with fissures, revealing dark red muscle beneath.

After a long while, he mustered a sliver of strength and activated his “Destiny Pattern.”

A thick, heavy layer of charred shell peeled away!

This “molting” was not caused by any supernatural corruption—it was purely the use of his Destiny Pattern to shed his burnt skin.

Thus, it brought no enhancement to his body; even the ghostly scar on his back remained stubbornly entrenched.

This layer of “skin” had no special function—but Xu Yuan felt it somehow linked to him.

Xu Yuan dug a shallow pit and buried it.

Within a short time, having used his Destiny Pattern twice in succession, he felt a weakness rooted deep in his life force.

“I need to be more restrained…”

Xu Yuan muttered to himself.

The scent drifted across the mountain peak again, and he felt the “instinct” stirring within him once more.

Yet after enduring the fire in his dantian, he could now barely suppress the urge.

Xu Yuan crouched low—not fleeing immediately, but sprinting like a mountain leopard up the peak ahead, hiding behind several trees to look down:

Xu Yuan had never intended to fight head-on; he knew exactly how weak he was. He wanted to see clearly who was behind this trick.

At the very least, he needed to know his enemy.

What he saw was no surprise—it was indeed the Holy Mother and her group.

A long bamboo pole carried a wooden bowl filled with a handful of rice.

Exactly like the one his stepmother had given him—except this bowl held slightly more rice.

Placing rice in a wooden bowl, just as his stepmother had instructed him to place it in a tree hollow, seemed to serve the same purpose.

He wondered whether this was a necessary condition to lure the June Worm.

Xu Yuan silently withdrew and slipped away quietly from another direction.

…

At the He Tan encampment, lunch was ready.

Water drawn from the river had been boiled to cook dried meat, and the steam had softened the flatbreads.

One of the men, trying to curry favor with the Holy Mother, had gathered wild greens and added them to the meat broth, sprinkling in seasonings.

He ladled a large bowl and offered it to her: “Holy Mother, please eat.”

The Holy Mother endured and finished it, yet still no movement stirred in the surrounding mountains.

She slammed the bowl down, her face dark. The dozen or so men under Zhao Yong fell silent, terrified they’d somehow angered the goddess.

The Holy Mother strode quickly to the Wu Xiu and said: “That thing has escaped! Search the mountains immediately!”

Four men had been sent by the sect to deliver the bait; their leader was a wandering herbalist dressed as a Pill Cultivator.

The Pill Cultivator nodded, his gaze sweeping over the men, then turning icy.

The Holy Mother said coolly: “Leave me two.”

The Wu Xiu raised his hand; a paper charm fluttered into the air, bearing four large characters: Immobilized.

Zhao Yong’s men realized in terror—they truly could not move!

The Pill Cultivator pulled a small gourd from his shoulder satchel, poured out some pills, pried open their mouths, and fed each one a pill.

He left only two untouched.

The two men not given the pills watched in horror as, after the others swallowed the pills, their companions twisted violently, bones warping!

Thick black fur sprouted across their bodies; limbs became clawed paws; jaws jutted forward, revealing four sharp canine teeth beneath their lips; ears elongated backward into pointed tips, sprouting long hairs.

They crawled on all fours, snarling and howling, eyes blazing red—no trace of human emotion remained.

The Wu Xiu retracted the charm; the Pill Cultivator waved his hand: “Search the mountains!”

The eight monsters, obedient as hunting hounds, lowered their heads and shot like arrows toward the surrounding peaks.

These creatures, born from men, were called “Medicated Beasts”; these eight were the lowest rank—“Canine Ghouls.” They moved swiftly, tore with ferocity, and possessed acute hearing and smell.

The two men left behind felt uneasily that they might not be so “lucky”—their fate might be worse than their companions’.

Half an hour later, two Canine Ghouls unearthed the charred shed skin Xu Yuan had buried.

The Holy Mother and the others gathered in a circle, staring at the humanoid oddity, baffled: “What is this thing?”

The Pill Cultivator studied the surrounding traces: “The boy definitely came here—but how, at the last moment, did he resist the bait’s scent and break free?”

“This batch of ‘Old Year Grain’ is extremely precious. The sect deployed twelve Protectors; seven died to obtain it. It should never fail.”

“The brat… is unusual,” the Pill Cultivator thought, a flicker of wariness rising in him.

The Holy Mother snorted and declared without hesitation: “Send the Canine Ghouls after him!”

(End of Chapter)