Chapter Fifty-Two: The Price of the Mission

"Is this child truly not afraid of freezing to death?" The man released his sword hilt and immediately rushed over to inspect the situation.

He hadn't noticed at first, but upon closer inspection of the person sprawled on the ground, he saw that the boy's left arm was a mass of crimson—clearly severed by someone and left without even a bandage.

He felt a jolt of alarm. Tracing the path the boy had taken, he saw the road stained with blood, a sight chilling to the bone.

He reached out to lay the boy flat, noting the deathly pale face that testified to severe blood loss and extreme exhaustion.

"His arm was severed, and he fled before he could even bind the wound. A strong, foul stench of filth is drifting up from the foot of the mountain—it's nauseating! The nearest place is the town at the mountain's base!" The man wiped a bead of cold sweat that wasn't really there from his forehead. He flipped over his token, sending a message into the courtyard.

Although he had stood motionless at the mountain gate, his chest and abdomen rose and fell rhythmically. His internal energy circulated endlessly, utilizing abdominal breathing to focus his spirit, absorbing the spiritual energy of the world and guiding it into every organ to strengthen his body.

The foul air from outside was like the impurities expelled by the body—much like flatulence—and breathing it in too often was detrimental to one’s health. This explained why most martial artists lived deep in the mountains and forests; the air there was pure, and the spiritual energy contained within the trees and herbs was beneficial. It could be understood in the same way that the fragrance of flowers or the scent of trees and grass makes people feel refreshed and relaxed. Even an ordinary person, without knowing how to cultivate, could extend their lifespan by living long-term in such a natural environment.

Being interrupted while training could easily damage one’s meridians, but fortunately, he had suffered no major harm.

The man immediately lifted the boy and took out a medical bandage to dress the wound. He pressed his palms against the boy’s back, channeling freezing internal energy into his meridians. There was no resistance; as the cold energy flowed into the left arm, it instantly congealed the blood around the severed limb. A layer of white frost covered the red wound, and the blood stopped seeping into the bandages.

He slowly pulled his hands away, exhaling a puff of gas from his mouth; his once-ruddy face had turned slightly pale.

Suddenly, the air circulation around them intensified. He turned his head toward the mountain gate and saw five figures descending from the peak.

They were of different builds, but they wore the same black attire. On their chests was a unique emblem: a circle containing a red-hued design resembling a mountain split down the middle, with a sword thrust into its center—an incredibly vivid image.

"Greetings, Elders!" Seeing their black robes—a symbol of high status—he narrowed his eyes, lowered his head, and bowed.

"Qi Tian, what have you observed?" the person in the center of the five leading figures asked.

"I first smelled a putrid odor, and then this child arrived. His arm had been severed, blood was flowing incessantly, and without even a bandage, he had struggled his way up here alone! He fell unconscious the moment he saw me." Qi Tian reported exactly what he had gathered.

"You bandaged him?"

"Yes. I could not bear to watch a child crawl on the ground as he bled to death," Qi Tian said, looking at the boy on the ground.

"Forget it. Today is Wednesday; you are relieved of your gate-guarding duty for this week. Let the next inner disciple take your place," the middle-aged man said, sounding somewhat helpless.

Guarding the Wudang gate was a simple task, yet it was one of the few duties in the academy that required the expenditure of contribution points to claim. Originally, it should have been a task for the Elders, but because guarding the gate was a matter of dignity, the Elders were reluctant to do it. Thus, it had become a task that required a price to obtain.

Wudang was a place of great geomantic significance, and the main peak was even more so. The spiritual energy there was dense, and the energy from the foot of the mountain was only permitted to enter the main peak through the Wudang gate.

Cultivating here was an excellent opportunity; the spiritual energy was so rich that in some respects, it was even better than the Hidden Immortal Cliff.

While it was an effortless task, it came with unavoidable rules: one had to prevent anyone from ascending the main peak, and it was forbidden to make contact with anyone of unknown identity or origin, or to investigate the major events occurring at the foot of the mountain—even if the person was dying. These were the rules passed down by the founding masters.

By breaking this rule, he deserved punishment. Since the situation was not yet severe, the penalty was considered light.

"This disciple accepts the punishment! But what should be done with this child?" Qi Tian pursed his lips. He was not angry, but asked out of concern. The child had likely lost his family; if Wudang did not take him in, he would truly have nowhere to go.

"Since you have already bandaged him, have him taken to the Hall of Punishment to investigate his identity while we go down to inspect what has happened." Elder Xuanyue frowned. Based on his experience, the foul stench was the smell of rotting corpses; a great many people must have died.

If so many had died at the foot of the mountain, how had this child managed to escape alive? How was he not dead?

He stared fixedly at the boy, then his eyebrows twitched. Suddenly, he spotted a token!

He stopped in his tracks, a faint smile playing on his lips. He leaned down and grabbed the token, which had been partially exposed.