Kai remained kneeling by Yan’s bedside, the vial of medicine held firmly in his hand. His gaze softened as he leaned in closer, speaking in a calm, steady voice.

  “Yan, can you hear me? If you can understand what I’m saying, please do something—anything—to let me know.”

  A faint moan escaped Yan’s cracked lips, followed by a weak, deliberate nod. It was barely perceptible, but it was enough.

  “Good,” Kai said, his tone reassuring. “I have medicine here that can help you heal, but I won’t lie to you—it’s going to be excruciatingly painful. It might be the worst pain you’ve ever felt. If you’re not ready for that, I can go and get something else—medicine that will heal you more gently, though it will take a day or two longer. The choice is yours. Do you still want me to give you this medicine now?”

  Yan’s glassy eyes met Kai’s with a mixture of fear and determination. The anguish was evident, but there was something else, too—a profound trust. Yan believed in him. Slowly, as though summoning every ounce of strength left in his battered body, Yan closed his eyes and gave another weak nod.

  Kai’s heart tightened, but he managed a small, encouraging smile. “Alright,” he said softly. “I promise, I’ll see this through with you.”

  Turning to Ming and the older woman who had remained by the bedside, Kai’s expression grew serious. “I need you both to stay calm,” he said. “This is going to look and sound terrible, but you must trust me. Don’t panic, no matter what happens. Can you do that?”

  Both Ming and the woman exchanged worried glances but nodded firmly.

  Kai exhaled, steeling himself. “Good. Then let’s begin.”

  He uncorked the vial, the sharp, herbal scent of the medicine filling the small room. Its vibrant green liquid seemed to shimmer faintly in the dim light. With great care, Kai poured the liquid into Yan’s mouth.

  The moment the liquid touched Yan’s lips, a violent reaction surged through his body like a storm unleashed. His muscles contracted uncontrollably, his entire frame seizing as though struck by a bolt of lightning. A guttural, agonized cry erupted from his throat—raw, primal, and filled with the kind of pain that clawed at the soul.

  Yan’s back arched off the bed, his limbs spasming as veins bulged prominently against his pale skin, throbbing with the force of the medicine coursing through him. The sickening crack and pop of dislocated bones snapping back into alignment echoed through the small room, sending shivers down Ming’s spine. The sound was both horrifying and mesmerizing—a visceral testament to the power of the medicine at work.

  Ming gasped, her hands flying to her mouth, but she didn’t move. The older woman trembled but remained rooted in place, just as Kai had instructed. She looked onto her father and didn’t understand how medicine could be like this.

  In truth, most medicines used by cultivators were like this. The higher the tier of the medicine, the more excruciating the pain it inflicted. That was precisely why Kai had wanted tier 1 medicine; its effects would have been far gentler, causing significantly less suffering.

  The brutal efficacy of such remedies was tolerated by cultivators because their bodies, tempered through years of cultivation, could endure the torment. The process of building one’s cultivation heightened pain tolerance to extraordinary levels. For Kai, consuming this tier 2 medicine would have caused little more than a mild discomfort.

  But Yan was a mortal. He lacked the resilience of a cultivator, the hardened nerves and fortified spirit required to withstand such an ordeal. To him, the medicine’s effects were pure agony, and felt like he was given poison.

  Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  Kai clenched his fists, frustration bubbling beneath his composed exterior. If only he’d been more composed earlier at the alchemist’s pavilion, he might have secured the tier 1 medicine. Instead, his lapse in judgment had forced this suffering upon Yan—a burden Kai now had to carry.

  Still, he consoled himself with the knowledge that the medicine was working. Despite the pain it caused, it was a necessary step to save Yan’s life. This was the bitter truth of a cultivator’s world: nothing came without a cost, not even healing.

  “Hang in there, Yan,” he said, his voice unwavering despite the chaos. “This is the medicine working. It’s forcing your body to heal faster. The pain will pass.”

  ??????????????????

  Hours passed. Throughout that time, Kai remained steadfast at Yan’s side, monitoring him as he writhed and screamed in agony. The process was brutal, and Yan’s cries echoed through the quiet village, drawing the attention of several concerned villagers. A few, emboldened by worry, approached the house to check on the situation. When they did, Kai met them with a calm yet firm explanation of the treatment and its necessity. Though they nodded in understanding, their expressions remained tinged with unease, the screams haunting them even after they returned to their homes.

  Two hours into the ordeal, Ming could no longer bear it. Tears streaming down her face, she rushed toward her father, pleading for Kai to stop.

  Before she could reach Yan, Kai intercepted her, wrapping her in a firm but gentle embrace. Ming struggled at first, pounding her small fists against his chest, but he held her steady, his voice soothing yet resolute.

  “It’s going to be alright, Ming,” he said softly. “I promise you, this will save him. You have to trust me.”

  Kai’s heart ached as he spoke. He didn’t want to see Ming suffer, but he couldn’t let her intervene. Yan’s body was in an extremely fragile state due to the medicine. His bones and flesh had become delicate and malleable, pliable like soft clay as the medicine worked to heal and restructure his injuries. Even the lightest touch could cause new damage, undoing the progress and prolonging both the healing process and Yan’s suffering.

  Ming eventually relented, her sobs muffled against Kai’s chest as she clung to him. “I just want him to be okay,” she whispered, her voice trembling.

  “I know,” Kai replied, his tone gentle but firm. “And he will be. But you have to trust me and stay back for now.”

  Releasing her, Kai guided Ming to sit with the older woman, who wrapped an arm around her shoulder, offering silent comfort. He returned to Yan’s side, his resolve unwavering despite the emotional toll.

  The hours stretched on. At the fourth hour mark, Yan’s screams began to subside, replaced by labored breathing as his body adjusted to the medicine’s effects. The healing effect seemed done.

  Kai carefully unwrapped the bandages from Yan’s body, his movements slow and deliberate as though unveiling something fragile. To his relief, the sight beneath the bandages was nothing short of miraculous. The once-gaping wounds, the bruises, and the discolored flesh—all of it—had vanished. The skin was smooth and unblemished, as if the injuries had never existed.

  A sense of relief washed over Kai. The medicine had worked flawlessly. Yan’s body, once brutalized, was now whole again. His breathing, though labored, had steadied, and the lines of pain that had etched his face were softening into an expression of exhaustion.

  "All the wounds have healed," Kai murmured, more to himself than anyone else. He glanced back at Ming and the older woman, who had been watching him anxiously. Their expressions shifted from fear to a mix of wonder and tentative hope.

  "Is he... okay now?" Ming asked hesitantly, her voice barely above a whisper as she inched closer.

  Kai nodded with a small, reassuring smile. "He’ll be fine. Other than some exhaustion, he just needs plenty of rest. His body’s been through a lot, but there’s no permanent damage. He’ll recover fully in time."

  A palpable wave of relief swept through the room. Ming rushed to her father’s side, carefully taking his hand in hers. The older woman clasped her hands together, silently mouthing a prayer of thanks.

  Kai stood, his knees cracking slightly after hours of kneeling, and let out a long exhale. The tension in his shoulders eased as he watched the quiet reunion between father and daughter. This was the outcome he had fought for—this was why he had endured the screams and resisted Ming’s pleas to stop.

  "Make sure he drinks plenty of water and gets as much rest as he needs," Kai advised, his tone warm but firm. "Don’t let him overexert himself for a few days, and keep him comfortable. If there’s any pain, let me know, and I’ll take care of it."

  Ming looked up at Kai, her eyes shimmering with gratitude. "Thank you, Uncle Kai. Thank you so much."

  Kai gave her a small smile and a nod. Before exiting the Shui’s household.