"It hurts, it really hurts!"
Quinn Shepherd landed, every bone and limb screaming in agony, gasping with pain.
Monk Banchi’s Unconquerable Vajra Body Art made his flesh so tough that even spirit weapons barely scratched him. Most spells were useless, forcing Quinn into a brutal fight.
Half‑Mad Monk’s attacks hit like thunder—Quinn’s skin split, muscles tore, and those nine golden rings nearly shattered his skull. Luckily, the monk’s moves were simple and repetitive. In the end, he still died by Quinn’s hand.
"Six Directions Realm cultivators really are tough—you can’t underestimate them."
Quinn rubbed the lump on his forehead, hissing through his teeth as he activated the Overlord Three‑Core Art to circulate his qi and blood, making sure no bruises lingered.
Two ribs in his chest were broken, and his back was a mess of blood and torn flesh—the price of taking Half‑Mad Monk’s crushing Sumeru Seal head‑on.
The Overlord Three‑Core Art worked wonders for healing, but it still couldn’t match real spirit pills. Thankfully, none of these wounds were fatal.
"Better get back to the village first—heal up, then go find the Demon Ape."
Quinn set his broken ribs, tossed the monk’s corpse aside—there were no burial customs in the Great Ruins. The beasts would sniff out blood soon enough; all that’d be left were bones.
If you were unlucky, not even bones would be left.
He returned to the village, picked a few spirit herbs from the medicine garden outside, and refined two batches of pills—one for external wounds, one for internal injuries. Then he begged some Dragon Spittle Elixir from Dragon‑Qilin to blend into the medicine.
Dragon‑Qilin saw how badly Quinn was beaten, looked surprised, but didn’t ask questions.
Just like at the Academy, Dragon‑Qilin squatted by the village gate, perfectly still. Quinn figured his 'gatekeeper' title was just an excuse for laziness.
The Nethervault Demon King was still frozen in place. Dragon‑Qilin refused to move out of laziness; the demon king was stuck because Deaf had immobilized him.
Quinn focused on healing. Night fell, but Deaf still hadn’t returned, and none of the other villagers had come back either.
By the next day, Village Chief and the rest were still missing. Quinn’s chest still ached—he couldn’t breathe deeply yet—but his ribs and back were healed.
"If I want my lungs to heal faster, I should steam them—let the medicine vapor get inside. But there’s no one to stoke the fire for me…"
He activated the Overlord Three‑Core Art, pacing slowly and breathing gently to help the hidden lung injury heal. Suddenly, a thought struck him: "After New Year, am I fifteen or sixteen?"
No one in the village could agree on his age. Village Chief and Granny Sue had argued about it more than once, but never settled it.
Granny Sue had found Quinn in the spring, just a few months old and wrapped in swaddling clothes. She insisted he was born before New Year, but Village Chief argued it was after.
If he was born before New Year, Quinn would be sixteen. If after, he’d only be fifteen.
Every New Year, they argued about it all over again. Quinn figured this year would be no different.
Lost in thought, Quinn suddenly heard a buzzing sound. Looking up, he saw several golden insects flying in from the woods outside the village.
Quinn blinked. The golden insects buzzed away, vanishing into the trees.
Then more insects arrived, circling the village once before disappearing back into the woods.
"That woman from Three Marvels Fortress is here!"
Quinn’s eyes narrowed. The woman from Three Marvels Fortress was much stronger than Half‑Mad Monk. She commanded swarms of gu insects, hardened like steel, able to devour even spirit weapons.
She controlled thousands of insects. If they surged at him all at once, Quinn would be stripped to the bone in seconds.
"Better to deal with her outside the village than let her break in!"