Chapter 17 (Arc 2 – Chapter 2): The Trash's Entrance
The journey to the Ash Vein Mountains took five days.
Along the way, Yan Kesh kept conducting small experiments on He Qiu—naturally, without fully informing the young man.
Whenever He Qiu grew exhausted, Yan Kesh would use The Audit to subtly "shift" a portion of that fatigue. He siphoned ten percent of He Qiu's exhaustion onto himself, then converted it into a Minor Receivable.
The results were… fascinating.
He Qiu began to feel that Yan Kesh was an exceptionally considerate and charismatic leader. Every time he stayed close to Yan Kesh, his burden felt lighter. His loyalty did not rise because of wages or benefits, but due to subtle hormonal manipulation.
At last, they arrived at the foot of the Ash Vein Mountains.
The land was barren. No green trees. The soil was gray like cigarette ash, and the air was dry enough to sting the skin.
At the entrance to the sect's territory, a long queue of people snaked across the ground. They were not fresh, vigorous youths seeking cultivation.
They were a procession of broken humans.
A one-armed martial artist.
An old man coughing blood.
A woman whose face was half-burned.
Each of them carried bundles of offerings, hoping to be accepted into the Ash Vein Sect.
"This sect…" He Qiu whispered, staring at the line in horror. "…this isn't a cultivation sect. This is an asylum."
"This is a gold mine," Yan Kesh corrected calmly.
They joined the queue. With his emaciated appearance and aura-less presence—because he truly had none—Yan Kesh fit in perfectly. He Qiu concealed his aura to appear weak as well.
Before the cracked stone gate, a sect examiner sat lazily. He was a fat, greasy-skinned man, chewing on a chicken leg.
"Next!" the fatty shouted.
An old man stepped forward, kneeling as he presented a pouch of coins. "Immortal Lord, please accept me. I… my meridians were destroyed ten years ago. I heard the Ash Vein Sect has techniques to transplant meridians…"
The examiner kicked him in the shoulder. "Destroyed meridians? We're not a charity! Get lost! Unless you've got 'young blood' to trade!"
The old man wept as guards dragged him away.
"Next!"
It was Yan Kesh and He Qiu's turn.
The examiner glanced at Yan Kesh with disgust. "You. Skinny, sickly, no Qi aura. What do you want? To become fertilizer?"
He Qiu was about to flare up, but Yan Kesh raised a hand.
Yan Kesh stepped forward. He did not kneel. He met the examiner's eyes.
[TARGET SCAN: SECT EXAMINER]
[Condition: Obesity, Liver Meridian Obstruction (Early Stage)]
[Hidden Desires: Women, Food, Longevity]
[Fear: Sudden death from heart failure]
The information unfurled within Yan Kesh's mind. A free diagnosis from the universe itself.
"I didn't come to become a disciple," Yan Kesh said calmly, his voice steady amidst the noise. "I came to save your life."
The examiner stopped chewing. His eyes narrowed dangerously. "What did you say? Are you cursing me?"
"You experience shortness of breath whenever you sleep flat on your back, don't you?" Yan Kesh replied swiftly, accurately. "There's a stabbing pain beneath your right ribs whenever you eat fatty meat. And the little finger on your left hand often goes numb."
The examiner's face drained of color. The chicken leg slipped from his hand.
It was all true—symptoms he'd felt for over a month, but had chosen to ignore.
"You… you're a physician?"
"I'm an accountant," Yan Kesh said. "I calculate lifespans. And my calculations say you have three months left before the blood vessel in your liver ruptures."
The crowd fell silent. He Qiu held his breath, shocked by his master's audacity at lying—or perhaps, at telling the truth.
The examiner stood up, the fat on his body trembling. Fear of death overwhelmed arrogance.
"Can… can you treat it?" he whispered, his voice shrinking.
Yan Kesh smiled. The smile of a merchant who had just seen a customer step into his shop.
"I need a quiet place to stay, access to the sect's library, and…" Yan Kesh gestured to the line of cripples behind him. "…permission to select a few of these 'trash' as my experimental assistants."
"The medicine is expensive, Examiner. But the price can be discussed."
The examiner swallowed, then turned to the gate guards.
"Let him in! Give him a guest hut in the Eastern Sector!" he barked, then looked back at Yan Kesh with pleading eyes. "Tonight… come to my room. We'll talk about that… 'discussion.'"
Yan Kesh inclined his head politely.
He walked through the gates of the Ash Vein Sect. Not as a lowly applicant to be kicked aside, but as a guest to be feared.
He Qiu walked beside him and whispered, "Master, will he really die in three months?"
"No," Yan Kesh replied softly without looking back. "More like five years. But fear accelerates time. I just sold him a sense of security, and he paid with VIP access."
Yan Kesh gazed at the gloomy sect compound—tilted buildings, the stench of strange medicines, and an aura of despair hanging in the air.
"Welcome to our new home, He Qiu."
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