Han Li stood silently, watching Li Feiyu's figure fade into the distance. After agreeing to meet him the next day to hand over the painkiller, Li Feiyu had bid him farewell, mentioning that he would return to recuperate.
Han Li hadn't pressed him on the reasons behind his use of the Marrow-Sucking Pill. He knew it wouldn't change anything. Li Feiyu had chosen a slow, painful path, sacrificing his future for the glory of the present. No one would choose such a path unless they were forced by circumstances beyond their control. Pressing him for an answer would only reopen old wounds that were nearly healed.
From what Han Li could deduce, Li Feiyu wasn't a person who would casually throw away his life. There had to be something driving him to take such drastic measures. Han Li wasn't interested in digging into his past, knowing that asking about the pill's origins might only make things worse. He had decided not to pry, and in return, Li Feiyu had silently acknowledged the unspoken understanding, a gesture of gratitude that Han Li didn't take lightly.
Despite the risks, Han Li knew that helping Li Feiyu with the painkiller was ultimately a wise move. Not only would it alleviate the suffering of someone who wasn't inherently evil, but it would also create a debt of gratitude—a leverage for future interactions, should Han Li need it. The stronger Li Feiyu became, the more useful his help could be. Even if Han Li never required his assistance, it was still a favor that would sit on the scales of karma, giving him peace of mind.
Han Li spent the evening quietly contemplating his actions. With everything in his mind settled, he returned to the Valley of Healing to prepare the remedy Li Feiyu had requested. The formula was simple enough to make, and all the necessary herbs could be found in the valley's garden. The process was a bit tedious, but nothing Han Li couldn't handle.
As he worked late into the evening, a strange unease began to settle over him. For the first time in months, Han Li found himself sitting in front of his house, staring up at the moonlit sky, lost in thought. He hadn't taken the time to reflect on his past in a long while. His life on the mountain had been so consumed by training that there had been little room for anything else, including the family he left behind.
It had been over four years since he had seen his parents, since he had left home to join the sect. In that time, he had focused solely on the cultivation method he had been given, leaving no room for sentimentality or personal concerns. His family received a portion of his earnings each month, and he would get a letter from Old Zhang every year. The letters were always short, with only the bare essentials: his family was fine, his older brother had settled down, and his second brother was preparing for his wedding.
But Han Li had sensed something unsettling in those letters, something he couldn't ignore. The tone in the letters had become increasingly formal, even distant. His family, once warm and loving, now seemed to regard him as a stranger. This shift in their attitude had filled Han Li with an unsettling feeling, but over time, it had become easier to ignore. He had learned to bury that discomfort, to not dwell on it. However, tonight, the nostalgia hit him hard.
He missed the warmth of his family, the familiar sounds of home. That sensation—the comfort of home—was something he hadn't allowed himself to feel in years. Now, standing in the silence of the valley with only the moonlight for company, Han Li felt that pang of longing. His thoughts wandered to the small leather pouch at his chest, where he kept the safety talisman his mother had given him before he left.
He reached for it, tracing the outline of the pouch through his clothes. Normally, the simple act of touching it would soothe him, but tonight, something felt wrong. Instead of the usual calm, his chest tightened, and his emotions became erratic. His qi began to churn uncontrollably, and the strange, foreign energy that he had cultivated over the years began to stir restlessly within him.
"Is it the talisman?" Han Li's heart sank. The thought of his inner turmoil being caused by something so innocuous was hard to accept, but his gut told him something was amiss. A dark thought crossed his mind, one he had always feared: "Am I falling into madness?"
A wave of panic surged through him. "Am I going to lose control?" He forced himself to breathe deeply, to calm the rising tide of his emotions. But something inside him felt as though it were on the verge of shattering. He needed to act quickly, before the situation worsened.
Looking around, Han Li didn't see any other explanation for his discomfort. His gaze fell upon the small leather pouch again, and a sudden suspicion blossomed in his mind.
"No... Could it really be this that's causing all of this?" He felt a strange sense of dread, his chest tightening even more.
He didn't have time to hesitate. With a quick, decisive motion, he pulled the pouch from around his neck and threw it away with all his might. He watched it fly through the air, but to his horror, the unsettling sensation only grew worse. The heat inside him intensified, his qi spiraling out of control. His body was no longer his own; it was like something deep inside him had awakened.
"Why is this happening?" Han Li struggled to maintain control, his eyes turning bloodshot as the pain in his chest intensified. The restlessness in his energy had become more pronounced, and he knew that if he didn't regain control, he might lose everything.
Was it the talisman, or is there something more to it?
He focused all his attention on the pouch, lying discarded in the dirt. He needed to figure out what was happening. But as his gaze remained fixed on it, his mind grew more clouded, and the pain spread through his limbs. The situation was rapidly deteriorating.
Without a clearer answer, Han Li knew he had little time to find out what was truly going wrong.