Thirty minutes after the battle, Zhou Tan's eyes flickered open. His head throbbed, and a metallic tang filled his mouth. He pushed himself upright, wincing as pain shot through his battered body. A quick glance confirmed his worst fears – the village was a wasteland, a testament to Detrigon's destructive power.
He found First Elder Hong sitting nearby, cradling his severed arm. Even with his face hidden behind the mask, Zhou Tan could sense the Elder's despair.
"That Nyx…" Zhou Tan began, his voice raspy. "He was horrifying. And intelligent. Stronger than me, easily in the second stage of cultivation."
In this world, strength was measured by four Stages of Cultivation - each with five lower realms, and where a human could achieve god hood. The God's knew all the terrifying strength they could get to, that if a mortal where to ever reach them, they could potentially do whatever the wish, at the last stage, the become nigh omnipotent, omnipresent and omniscient, this made the god's wary of cultivators, it was impossible for god's to cultivate, unless the died and become human, but no one wants to go through the stage of actually dieing without certainty of reincarnation.
Hong winced. The weight of his failure settled heavy on his shoulders. "Sect Leader," he said, his voice laced with self-reproach, "I failed you."
Zhou Tan managed a to put on a smile, despite the pain. "Don't be so hard on yourself, Hong. It's not your fault. We live in a cultivation world, remember? Crazy things happen every damn day. We just have to get stronger, before... before the prophecy comes to pass."
A chill ran down his spine as he spoke the word "prophecy." What was that to tell for?
He clapped Hong on the shoulder with more enthusiasm than he felt. "Come on, Elder. Let's get back to the sect, get that arm looked at." Zhou Tan was drained, his energy reserves depleted, and the Elder helped him up. Hong, after some grumbling about being a burden, donned his mask, expertly lifted his severed arm with energy, and lifted the Sect Leader into the air with his remaining arm. As they soared towards the horizon, Zhou tan remembered how the nyx fought, as if it was forced into the battle field, it was stronger, faster, and most importantly smart.
An hour later, they arrived at Han County, a bustling city that served as the Righteous Sect's base of operations. Hong, with a grim nod, deposited Zhou Tan at the entrance to the Divine Physician's sanctum and then headed in himself.
"Can you treat us?" Hong asked gruffly, his masked face betraying nothing of his pain. "We're a bit… worn out, as you can see."
A booming laugh echoed from within the sanctum. "Worn out? You look like you've been wrestling a mountain, Hong! And you, Sect Leader, look like you lost!"
The speaker was Fang Gu, the Divine Physician of the West. Despite his imposing frame, rippling with barely contained muscle, Fang Gu was no warrior. He was a healer, a scholar, and a notorious gossip, all wrapped up in a flamboyant package. At 249 years old, and a cultivator in the second stage, his snow-white hair framed a face that still held a youthful spark, and his eyes shone with an almost unnerving intensity. He was dressed, as always, in the pristine white and gold robes of the Righteous Sect, but wore it with an almost rebellious air, as though constantly daring someone to criticize his attire.
Hong, despite his usual stoicism, couldn't help but sigh. "It's… a long story, Fang Gu. Let's just say we met a Nyx that was a little more enthusiastic than expected." He proceeded to recount the battle, carefully detailing Detrigon's power and his unsettling words. As he spoke, a shadow of fear flickered across his masked features.
Zhou Tan, who had been leaning against the wall, groaning softly, suddenly straightened. "Hey, Fang Gu," he interrupted, a hint of desperation in his voice. "If you don't get around to treating me soon, I might actually die from blood loss. And then who's going to stop the enthusiastic Nyx from turning this place into a breeding ground for interdimensional horrors?"
Fang Gu chuckled, his eyes twinkling. "Dramatic as always, Zhou Tan. But point taken. Bring him inside, Hong. Though I'm not sure what I can do for that arm of yours." He gave Hong a pointed look. "If it's gone for good, there's only one solution, you know. Break through to the next great stage. The third stage."
Hong snorted, following Fang Gu into the inner sanctum. "The third stage? That's just a legend, Fang Gu. Have you ever seen anyone in that stage?" His tone was dismissive, but a subtle tremor ran through his voice.
Fang Gu winked, gesturing for Zhou Tan to lie down on a magically illuminated examination table. "As a matter of fact, I do know someone in the third stage. My brother. He's overseas, somewhere. Left Han County about fifty years ago. Still miss him, the old coot. If we were in the mortal realm, I'd suspect he ascended to some immortal paradise, but alas, we're already in the immortal realm. Though it seems not many are able to reach there." His laughter echoed through the room as he began to work on Zhou Tan's wounds, his nimble fingers weaving intricate patterns of spiritual energy.
The room fell silent. The only sound was the gentle hum of Fang Gu's healing magic and Zhou Tan's occasional grunts of discomfort. Finally, the Divine Physician broke the silence.
"Alright, alright, all done," Fang Gu announced, stepping back to admire his handiwork. "I've extracted the Nyx-corrupted energy from your bodies and patched you up as best I can. You'll both be fine in three days, provided you follow my instructions. No cultivating, no strenuous activity, and absolutely no leaving this room. Understood?" He fixed them with a stern look, his jovial demeanor vanishing, replaced by the sharp, authoritative gaze of a skilled healer.
Zhou Tan and Hong exchanged sheepish glances, nodding meekly as if they were children being scolded by their mother. They knew better than to argue with Fang Gu when he was in "doctor mode."
Three days later, in another room entirely, Jun Hao's eyes fluttered open. He was swathed in bandages from head to toe, his body aching with a dull, persistent throb. He blinked, trying to focus on the unfamiliar surroundings.
[Good morning, Master.]
Jun Hao jolted upright in bed, his eyes wide with alarm. "Who's there?!"
Before he could react, the door to his room slid open, and two young men, clad in the simple grey robes of the Divine Physician's disciples, rushed inside.
"Oh, you're awake!" one of them exclaimed, his face lighting up with relief. "How are you feeling?"
Jun Hao, still disoriented, scratched the back of his head. "I… I'm doing fine, I think. But I thought I heard someone call me. I hope I didn't disturb you."
The disciples exchanged curious glances. "Hallucinating, probably," one muttered to the other. Then, turning back to Jun Hao, he asked with a polite, but probing tone, "You must be mistaken, friend. No one called you. We don't even know your name. Are you, perhaps, a patient of our master"
"Oh! I am Jun Hao," he said, a nervous smile playing on his lips. "I'm not a cultivator yet, though I am hoping to become one."
The disciples exchanged a look of thinly veiled amusement. One of them let out a snort. "Are you stupid? It's impossible to become a cultivator after the age of fifteen, or are you underage or something You're past the age of enlightenment, kid. You're wasting your time."