Chương 16: Body Problems

Rowan It didn't take long for Rowan to create a large enough hole near the top of the cave-in. The pair squeezed their way out. Crickets chirped loudly, as though to greet them. Night had descended, faint, gauzy clouds drifting past a full moon.

"Still want me to hand you over to her?" Rowan mentally asked the bloodstone. The stone grew cold, like a turtle putting its head back into its shell. That, in its own way, was vindicating. Rowan's carriage was still sitting outside, untouched. No one had come to check on the area yet.

"I suppose it's time for us to part ways. Encountering me was your good fortune, Rowan Helsing. Remember this, though. I am Blaise Bellacanicus Nostraga Way, and should we meet again, do not blame me for making a meal out of you," she said airily, tilting her face away from him. Moonlight glowing along the contours of her side profile, turning its shadows deeper, darker.

"Wait," said Rowan, to her retreating back. She paused, waiting, and his words became stuck in his throat for a moment.

"If you were born this way, with the Extreme Yin Body, then you didn't have a choice but to practice Yin arts. Does that mean there are good demonic cultivators out there? Like you?" A wry smile curved her lips.

"No. None of us are any good - and don't let one try to convince you otherwise. You should really forget you ever saw me." Her long purple-black hair flowed freely over her shoulders like the finest silk. The loose hair gave her a more carefree look.

"Did you lose your hairpin?"

"Broke it," she said, mournfully, waving at him over her shoulder.

"It was just a bit of mortal trash anyway." Something glinted by his feet. He picked up the pinkish conch shell hairpin, bent out of shape, and twisted it slowly between his fingers as she became a pinprick in the distance. She walked by foot on the side of the road back towards Deepwhale Pier. Shaking his head, he got into the driver's seat of his carriage and rode off. Three days later, he arrived at Righteous Mountain City. As he suspected, even the poorer civilians looked quite healthy - if thin.

The fish markets were robust with the catch of the day. As he was taking note of the city, the people in turn were taking note of him. An issue quickly became apparent.

"Which young master is that? Such a handsome appearance…"

"I don't know. I don't recognize him. But don't upset him, he could be the child of an immortal." What was he going to do about his new appearance? Rowan's looks had improved a bit after he'd condensed his Qi Sea, more than usual because of the quality of his Qi Sea, but within normal parameters. But after his encounter with the Flood Dragon? He didn't look like a completely different person. Just… unearthly. Calm. The days of riding had acclimated him to the new changes of his body.

He never grew tired and he only needed three or four hours of sleep to feel fully refreshed. His eyesight and hearing were sharper, and tiny, imperceptible changes in his surroundings drew his attention with startling focus. There was also an innate sense of being powerful - invincible, even - but Rowan wasn't foolish enough to believe it. At the end of the day, he was a cultivator in the first layer of Qi Condensation. Someone that could be crushed like an insect.

Still, the change in his appearance would attract attention in a bad way. If someone suspected he had encountered a lucky opportunity, refining a one in a million physique, who knew what they would do? Try and possess him? Sell him? As he drove through Righteous Mountain City, he thought of a few explanations. First... he could buy a glamour to hide his appearance. Except, as a disciple of Righteous Mountain, he would be heavily scrutinized.

And on the off chance a Foundation Establishment cultivator from the Alliance of Earthly Harmony dropped by, the glamour might just get torn off of him like paper, instantly exposing him. His next idea was a bit better. Beauty pills. If he ate a few, he could blame his new appearance on feeling a bit depressed about his looks and trying to compensate. The only downside would be the side-effect of the pills: a powerful, distinctive perfume pouring out of his pores. Also...

as a man, he also had his pride, and really didn't want to do this. After a while, he sighed. Sorry Great-Aunt, looks like I'm relying on you again... A body-refining treasure, given to him as a present for forming his Qi Sea. The closer he stuck to truth, the easier he would be able to pull it off. He just needed to act arrogant and prideful about it. Show off. Then people would really believe that his famous Great-Aunt had favored him, instead of wondering if he had something to hide.

But first, he had to head back to the Helsing compound and settle the matter of the assassination attempt. As he approached the entrance, he was stopped.

"Young Master Rowan?" asked the guard in unconcealed shock.

"I need to see Patriarch Yarrow, Lyle," said Rowan, trying his best to channel Damion Decatour.

"I have something to report." Lyle shook his head sadly.

"The honored patriarch's condition has deteriorated significantly. He is in closed doors cultivation, trying to break through to Foundation Establishment to stabilize himself." If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. Patriarch Yarrow had been stuck in the late stage of Qi Refining for as long as Rowan had been alive. He was very, very far from Foundation Establishment, but this sort of action made sense.

Either he died naturally after a hundred and fifty years of life, or he made a last-ditch effort for the next realm, extending his lifespan for another one hundred years. Rowan's chest tightened. At the patriarch's age, trying to break through would be too strenuous. Foundation Establishment was the great threshold - your mind, body, and spirit had to fight against the heavens, demanding acknowledgement. A cultivator only had one shot. Failure didn't mean wasting a few resources - it was death.

He'd known for a long time that Patriarch Yarrow wasn't long for the world, but so soon after his mother's death… There was nothing else left to do at the Helsing compound after all, it seemed. If Rowan couldn't report the assassination attempt to the patriarch, he might as well go back to the sect. Just then, Uncle Bael burst through the gates, looking quite harried. A gaggle of his children and concubines trailed behind, clearly there to spectate.

"Uncle Bael," said Rowan, his heart sinking. This was who he'd been trying to avoid. But unlike the last time he'd seen the man, his uncle had a look of genuine concern on his face.

"Rowan, my boy!" cried out Uncle Bael.

"I got the repair bill, is everything okay? Did you encounter trouble on the road?" Trouble on the road? What type of theater was this?

"Nothing I couldn't handle," Rowan said, refraining from spitting.

"In fact, Great-Aunt made sure there were no problems." The crowd began to mutter excitedly.

'Great-Aunt?'

'The Foundation Establishment immortal?'

"Lady Iris?" Bael's eyes widened, and Rowan saw a fragment of worry in them.

"She's here?"

"Yes," said Rowan.

"I met her on the way to Deepwhale Pier."

"On the way?" muttered Uncle Bael.

"She helped you?" Did his uncle really not know anything about the assassination attempt?

"Something like that," said Rowan.

"Well… well it's a good thing that our esteemed Great-Aunt could personally show those bandits the might of our family!" A savage grin formed on Uncle Bael's lips, then faltered.

"Where's your retinue? Seven men left with you…" Rowan sat back straight, looking down his nose at his uncle.

"They all died protecting me."

"Ah… well, then, to protect an inheriting son of the family, who could ask for a worthier death?" Uncle Bael stuttered.

"Yes, Great-Aunt thought so too."

"Of course, of course." The grin slipped from the man's face into something more kind.

"I heard from Ash that you left the Dry Fire Codex with him." Rowan nodded.

"I thought it would suit him more than me. I'll just study something from the sect."

"Did Great-Aunt give you anything?" Uncle Bael asked, looking at him expectantly.

"She did say that she would be sending back some resources for us soon."

"Just some pointers," Rowan said airily.

"Yes, I see that you've formed your Qi Sea…"

"She did, in fact, help me with that," said Rowan.

"Her advice was invaluable for someone with my Spirit Root." It was well-known within the family that Rowan's Spirit Root was unusually terrible.

"Your Spirit Root?" Cousin Elgin spat out.

"Everyone knows your Spirit Root is use—" The eight-year-old boy's mother clamped a hand over his mouth.

"We would throw you a First Step party," said his uncle, "but as a filial son of Helsing, you know how tight the money is."

"Yes. After all, there wasn't even enough to hire priests for my mother's funeral," said Rowan coldly. Uncle Bael side-stepped the comment.

"Will you stay for dinner? We see you so rarely now that you live on the mountain."

"I'm going back to the sect." Rowan hopped down from the driver's seat of the carriage and left. Whispers erupted behind him.

"Does Great-Aunt really favor him so greatly?"

"She must. Father tried to get a few things from his accounts, but he was blocked. Apparently, she took over as his custodian."

"Great-Aunt also gave Uncle Pyrus many treasures, remember? If only some of her generosity could splash onto us as well."

"Look at Rowan. A few passing words from Great-Aunt and he's strutting around like a peacock. Talking to father like that. So what if he formed his Qi Sea? No pills or methods can change the Spirit Root you were born with."

"Yeah, if she gave him a treasure to help form his Qi Sea, he should've just saved it and handed it over to one of us…" Rowan tried not to let his temper explode. This was exactly the outcome that he had been aiming for. If he could convince people that harming him would mean offending his Great-Aunt, that would serve as the ultimate protection. The few hours it took to reach the Eastern Gate were fraught with peril. Not for him - for the ladies.

He'd never seen so many girls trip over themselves, staring at him with blushed cheeks. One girl was even staring at him so intently that she almost ran into an ox, falling to the road. Rowan had never been ugly, but he could admit that he had been putting all his hopes on adulthood to elevate his looks. Now, the attention was overwhelming. His only solution was pretending that he didn't notice any of it. At the gates, a bored voice called out.

"Visitor Token?"

"Not visiting. I'm a disciple." Rowan handed over the Righteous Mountain Sect Token.

"Disciple…?" The iron gates opened, and as Rowan passed the man overseeing the process, the man's eyes bulged out of his head.

"Rowan?!" All the stares from the girls combined didn't discomfort him as much as Old Hesser's shocked look. Rowan's face burned in embarrassment. He cleared his throat and puffed out his chest, forcing himself to keep up with the arrogant young master favored by his powerful ancestor act. He said a few words to Old Hesser, making sure to mention his Great-Aunt several times.

"So that's how it is…" Old Hesser said in pure disbelief. He barely reacted as Rowan swaggered past. A thought occurred to him. I wonder what my Senior Sister will think of my new look? When Rowan stepped into the Mission Hall, it was once again full of billowing white mist. It appeared that Senior Sister Verrine had returned. As usual, she was lounging in her seat behind the counter. Her teal robes looked new and she smelled of a flowery fragrance.

"You're staring," she admonished.

"A gentleman doesn't stare." The tips of Rowan's ears went pink.

"Well, do you have anything for me?" she asked. Mist drifted from her nose, dancing in front of her eyes.

"I've got a Wandering Bulb," he said. The onion waved its arms forlornly and hid behind his leg, pulling its roots back. Verrine craned her head over the counter to catch a glimpse of the onion. After a few moments, she shook her head.

"The order has already been fulfilled," she said, snatching the task off of the Mission Board and stamping it.

"I'm too late?" Verrine nodded sagely.

"Besides, do you really want to part with her?" She winked at the bulb, which scurried behind Rowan's other leg.

"Her?"

"Run along," said Verrine.

"You have work to do. While you've been away, everyone else has been preparing for the tournament." Tournament? What tournament?