Body command feeding world

The wind in the western wilderness still carried a biting chill, and Wu and Wei walked with difficulty, each step dragging on, making it even more difficult than climbing a mountain with a heavy load.

The Yangyan Bone Armor had long since disappeared, but the cracks all over his body still throbbed with pain. His meridians were as withered as rotten wood, and his blood essence was nearly depleted. Each heartbeat was accompanied by a hollow, dull pain. His right hand gripped the earthen-yellow sword-shaped talisman tightly, his knuckles white, as if if he loosened his grip, his last vestige of life would dissipate.

The faint light of the runes before him flickered weakly, barely managing to deflect the low-level demonic shadows along the way, but it couldn't support his heavy, leaden limbs. His vision blurred in waves, and all he could hear was his own heavy, bellows-like breathing, and Shi Meng's hoarse cry of "escape" before his death, echoing repeatedly in his mind.

He did not fall down.

I dare not fall.

He couldn't just throw away the chance to survive that Shi Meng had risked his life to shield him from the evil spirits.

After walking for an unknown amount of time, the blurry outline of Rock City finally appeared in the distance. The city walls lay like a giant beast, and lights flickered sporadically in the night. That was the warmth of human life, the only place of peace and security.

As he approached the city gate, the guards assumed he was a rogue cultivator who had escaped from the evil tide. Seeing that he was covered in blood and barely breathing, they did not dare to stop him and let him into the city after a cursory inspection.

The city streets were deserted, the night was deep, and most of the survivors stayed indoors. A faint scent of blood and bewilderment lingered in the air. With his last ounce of willpower, Wu Wei turned through two dark alleys and finally saw the faded wooden sign of the Ping An Inn.

He had just stepped across the threshold when all his strength drained away, his vision went black, and he fell straight forward.

The expected heavy blow did not land; a fairly strong arm hurriedly caught him.

"Sir/Madam?!"

The one-armed shopkeeper was both shocked and panicked. He quickly supported half of the man's body and, by the light of the lamp, gasped in shock. The man in front of him was covered in blood and grime that soaked through his clothes. His wounds were crisscrossed and the cold air was penetrating to his bones. He looked like he had crawled out of a mountain of corpses and was barely clinging to life.

The shopkeeper dared not ask any questions. He mustered all his strength to half-help, half-drag him upstairs, push him into the room, and settle him on the tatami mat. He then hurriedly fetched the only remaining ointment for clearing away evil spirits, clean cloths, and a pot of warm water, clumsily and carefully trying to treat his wounds.

Even though Wu Wei was unconscious, his right hand was still tightly gripping the talisman, so tightly that it couldn't be pried open.

The shopkeeper dared not forcibly take it, so he could only sigh softly, wipe the blood off his face, cover him with a thin blanket, and quietly leave the room, staying downstairs and not daring to go far.

That night, Wu Wei slept very restlessly.

Nightmares haunt me repeatedly.

The Black Bone Demon Nest is filled with gloomy mist, frozen blood, and withered bones;

The icy chill of the Water Fiend, the shrieking of the Shadow Fiend, and the indifferent blue eyes of the Child Head;

Shi Meng spread his arms to shield him, his back torn apart by bloody claws, his heart pierced by sharp claws, yet he still turned back to smile at him, nodded gently, and said in a barely audible voice:

"Brother Wu...escape...live..."

Every scene was vivid and piercing, his heart clenched in waves, and he trembled with pain.

He wasn't cold-blooded or heartless; it was just that in both his past and present lives, he had been accustomed to being alone, wary, independent, and unemotional. But Shi Meng's brief month of companionship, his unreserved trust, and his resolute willingness to sacrifice himself for him were like a scalding bloodstain etched onto his heart, which was as hard as iron.

It turns out that in this cannibalistic world, there really are people who would entrust their lives to someone for the sake of friendship, without seeking treasure, profit, or exploitation, but simply for the sake of a fellow traveler.

It turns out that besides surviving, becoming stronger, and protecting oneself, there's something else called—

friend.

There is another thing called—

Warmth.

As his consciousness rose and fell, Shu's thoughts quietly accompanied him, neither urging nor warning him, but simply guarding the depths of his marrow sea like a silent support.

As dawn approached, Wu Wei suddenly opened his eyes, breaking free from the nightmare. His chest heaved violently, and cold sweat soaked through his inner shirt.

The room was dimly lit, with only a sliver of pale morning light seeping in through the window cracks.

He lay motionless on the couch, staring blankly at the ceiling, and remained silent for a long time.

Shi Meng is dead.

He died in the Black Bone Fiend Nest, died under the claws of the Child Head, died at the moment he tried to protect him and seize the talisman.

And he survived.

They took on Shi Meng's share of the work and survived together.

Wu Wei slowly raised his right hand and loosened his tightly clenched fingers.

The earthen-yellow sword-shaped talisman lay quietly in his palm, its runes ancient and simple, its spiritual light faint yet persistent, retaining a trace of supremely yang and fiery aura. This was the Qingyun Sect disciple's ultimate trump card, a weapon capable of instantly annihilating most of the fiery group, and the only chance to break the deadlock when Tong Yao wanted to take his life.

It was Shi Meng who risked his life to get what he had.

"I will not have lived in vain."

He spoke softly, his voice hoarse and dry, yet unusually firm, each word deliberate and deliberate, as if speaking to himself, or perhaps making a promise to the departed Shi Meng.

"I will stay calm."

I will be careful.

"I will be strong."

"I will Survive."

I will remember you.

Five simple sentences, without fervor or lamentation, yet carrying a weight heavier than a thousand pounds.

From now on, he will no longer live just for himself.

He now carries the weight of an extra life.

Wu Wei closed his eyes and regulated his breathing, forcibly suppressing his turbulent emotions. He circulated the remaining trace of Yang Flame Blood Essence to slowly nourish his depleted meridians. Although the Yang Flame Bone Armor, which had undergone a second evolution, was cracked, its foundation remained intact. Its instincts to resist evil, resist poison, and heal itself were still operating slowly, but the damage was too severe, and recovery was extremely slow.

He dared not use the top-grade evil treasure in his arms, still strictly adhering to Shu's warning—keep top-grade treasures for yourself, and never use them lightly unless in dire straits or at a critical moment.

Using only low-level evil treasure fragments, the inn's cleansing ointment, and his own blood essence bone armor, he repaired his injuries little by little, slowly and steadily.

Don't rush, don't be impatient, don't be rash, and don't force your way through.

stable.

This was the last lesson Shi Meng taught him, a lesson he was given with his life.

During the day, the one-armed shopkeeper dared not go upstairs to disturb him, only delivering water, coarse grain cakes, and simple medicine on time, placing them at the door before quietly retreating. Wu Wei neither asked nor spoke, taking what he needed and then continuing his meditation with his eyes closed, his entire being as quiet as if he didn't exist.

He did not go out, did not meet with anyone, did not inquire about the aftermath of the siege, and ignored the rumors circulating outside the city.

I don't care who survives, how the Suppression Division will handle the situation, or whether the Qingyun Sect will investigate the whereabouts of the talisman.

It has nothing to do with him.

He only does three things:

Recover from injuries.

Foundation.

centering.

His injuries gradually improved, his meridians were replenished with a thin but pure blood essence, the cracks in his bones and armor slowly healed, and his marrow sea, nourished day and night, became warm and full again, even more refined and substantial than before he entered the evil nest.

That fierce battle, that escape, that life-or-death separation, and that bizarre scene where a high-level evil aura suppressed Tong Shou—all silently solidified his foundation and hardened his heart.

The moonlight outside the window was cold and desolate at night.

Wu Wei got up and walked to the window, pushed it open a crack, and looked towards the northeast—the location of Anyou Elementary School.

The night was deep, the courtyard walls were silent, the lights were steady, there was no evil spirit, no turmoil, no bloodshed.

Yaya is safe.

This is another reason why he must live on, become stronger, and persevere to the end in this world.

Shi Meng is gone.

He cannot afford to lose this last glimmer of light.

Wu Wei gently closed the window, turned around and returned to the bedside, where he sat cross-legged again.

He carefully stored the sword-shaped talisman in his palm, placing it close to his body and hiding it alongside the top-grade evil treasure.

One weapon, one fundamental principle.

One is for survival, the other for building a foundation.

The soft flickering of the lamplight inside the room illuminated his solitary yet composed figure.

The pain has not subsided, the memories have not faded, and the promises have not been forgotten.

But my mind was already made up.

No longer lost, no longer lonely, no longer numbly fighting for survival.

He has people to protect, people to remember, a road to travel, and a destination to reach.

Take steady steps and proceed cautiously.

Survive, become stronger, and keep going.

This is his way.

It was Shi Meng who risked his life to lay the first, heaviest, and warmest foundation stone for him.