Chapter Thirty-Eight: The Heart of the Benevolent

Divine Lord Liyang took a few moments to gather his breath, steadying the chaotic power within himself. Then he descended to the mountain hollow where the purple-black Thunder Dragon lay. The Thunder Dragon, clear in its mind that death was near, refused to beg for mercy. Its pride and dignity would not allow it; it simply closed its lantern-sized eyes and awaited death’s arrival with resignation. This was a world where the strong ruled and the weak lived or died at their whim. If the strong willed your death, you could not live.

Fear of death filled the Thunder Dragon’s heart, but pride and dignity kept it from retreat. Time seemed to crawl in its despair, each moment stretching endlessly. Suddenly, it felt a mighty force descend upon its enormous body. In that instant, the only thought echoing in its mind was, “My fate is sealed!”

With a surge of power, Divine Lord Liyang drew the Thunder Dragon’s thousand-foot frame from the mountain hollow. Gravely wounded by Liyang’s earlier onslaught, the dragon slipped toward unconsciousness. In its haze, it felt something placed in its mouth—something that melted away instantly. The pain that wracked its body was so intense that it did not notice the ebb of life. Its mind seemed blank, and it wondered, “Am I… still alive?”

It tried to open its eyes to understand what had happened, but its grievous injuries left it utterly devoid of strength. It slipped into a deep faint.

In that deep slumber, the Thunder Dragon struggled to awaken, but could not. It felt as if it had slept for an eternity, though it knew not how long had truly passed.

Suddenly, in its sleep, it felt a sharp smack to the head—a searing pain snapped it awake. Groggy with pain and anger, it resolved to swallow whole whoever had dared strike it so. As its eyes opened for the first time, it saw two old men: one with crane-white hair and a child’s face, kindly and approachable, dressed in a purple-green robe; the other, also with white hair and youthful features, but with sword-like brows and star-bright eyes, exuding a quiet, unyielding authority in a golden robe. These two elders were none other than Divine Lord Liyang and the Divine Herbalist Lu Yishan.

There was reason why Divine Lord Liyang had spared the Thunder Dragon’s life. First, he sought medicine to heal his grandson Liyang Hao, and though the dragon had been obstructive, slaying it would leave a shadow on his heart. Second, the dragon had never truly meant to kill; as the saying goes, “Leave a line for others, so you may meet again.” Whether they would meet again or not, to act with mercy was the way of the strong with a compassionate heart.

The Thunder Dragon was difficult to deal with, for its temperament had been shaped by eons spent within the Thunder Domain, its nature influenced by the law of wild, rampant lightning. Yet, from its second condition, it was clear this great beast was forthright at heart.

So, when the Thunder Dragon was on the verge of unconsciousness, Divine Lord Liyang pulled it from the mountain and prepared to infuse it with vital energy to heal it. At that moment, the Divine Herbalist, who had been watching from afar, hurried over and said, “Brother Liyang, allow me.”

When it came to healing, the Divine Herbalist was leagues ahead of Divine Lord Liyang. In battle, the only thing that made him formidable was his mastery of poisons; otherwise, he was unremarkable. No sooner had he spoken than he placed a precious healing pill—the Numbing Cure Divine Pellet—into the Thunder Dragon’s mouth. The pill’s numbing properties sent the dragon into a deep, unbreakable sleep.

The Divine Herbalist didn’t explain the nature of the pill to Divine Lord Liyang. Unaware, Liyang waited an hour for the dragon to awaken, but it did not. Impatient, he gave the dragon’s massive head a resounding slap, which finally roused it. Without that slap, the dragon might well have slept for months, only waking once its wounds were mostly healed.

Awake, the Thunder Dragon was puzzled.

Divine Lord Liyang, amused in his heart, kept his expression calm and indifferent.

The Divine Herbalist explained, “You were grievously injured. Brother Liyang intended to heal you with his vital energy, but I stopped him. I gave you a healing pill of my own making called the Numbing Cure Divine Pellet. Its numbing effect made you drowsy and unable to wake.”

At last, the Thunder Dragon understood everything. Though it had opposed them, the two elders had spared its life and even saved it. Now, faced with such kindness after its own hostility, it was deeply ashamed. “Thank you, honored ones, for saving my life. I, Rehnster, am eternally grateful.”

It was only now that Divine Lord Liyang and the Divine Herbalist learned the dragon’s name: Rehnster. As the purple-black dragon voiced its thanks, a flush of embarrassment crept over it. Just moments before, it had insisted it needed nothing from the two elders, and now it had to eat its words. Its old dragon face was hot with shame—thankfully, the purple-black scales hid its blush. Regret filled its heart; it wished it could give itself a sound slap for its earlier arrogance. Had it not been for a moment’s itch for battle, counting on the home-field advantage of the Thunder Domain, it would never have ended up like this. It had only itself to blame.

The Divine Herbalist spoke, “Brother Liyang and I meant no offense coming here. We only sought from you several spirit herbs over a hundred thousand years old, to save the life of a child. Our actions were out of necessity—please forgive us.” He had meant to say that they would meet any conditions, but Rehnster had already named his terms. He thought to express their gratitude, but that had been said as well, so he simply asked for forgiveness.

As the Divine Herbalist spoke, Rehnster emerged a little from his embarrassment. Eager to make amends for his earlier rudeness, he said, “Honored ones, take whatever spirit herbs you need. If there is any way I can be of service, only say the word and I will do my utmost.”

The Divine Herbalist pointed with his left forefinger at a blood-red lingzhi mushroom a thousand miles away. “We need to harvest that Blood Spirit Lingzhi.”

Rehnster replied, “Take it, by all means. Such lingzhi are now exceedingly rare—there are few left elsewhere of such an age, as most have been consumed by cultivators to further their practice. Those here I have guarded myself; lesser beings dare not approach, and this is the last of its kind.”

He spoke truthfully. To different cultivators, spirit herbs are treasures that can enhance cultivation, purify the body, and increase strength. They can also heal or harm, depending on the user’s intent. Different ailments require different medicines. Rare everywhere, spirit herbs of great age are even more potent and valuable, the higher the age, the purer and stronger their effects—but also the fewer in number and the higher in price. Such treasures are always coveted, not only by those who develop wisdom, but because of the unique conditions required for their growth. That is why, despite the risks, cultivators will fight for them.

Without further ceremony, the Divine Herbalist carefully enveloped the Blood Spirit Lingzhi with his own law, as gently as if it were his beloved. His caution spoke to the herb’s preciousness. He cherished it, both to repay Divine Lord Liyang’s life-saving kindness from years past, and because this spirit herb had been so hard to acquire. For either reason, it was worth his utmost care.

As the Divine Herbalist tucked the lingzhi into his precious medicine box, Divine Lord Liyang asked, “Yishan, my friend, see if there are any other spirit herbs here you need. If so, speak up—I’ll help you procure them.”

Rehnster chimed in, “Honored ones, you are compassionate and righteous. If there’s anything you desire, take it.”

Divine Lord Liyang, unabashed, said, “Since Brother Rehnster is so generous, Yishan, just take what you need.”

Lu Yishan was both amused and exasperated by Divine Lord Liyang’s shamelessness—his serious expression and righteous words made him sound like the Thunder Dragon’s advocate. The Divine Herbalist had not expected this side of Liyang, and found it hilarious. He thought, “Brother Liyang’s ability to go with the flow is truly masterful.” He found himself admiring Liyang even more.

Hearing this, Rehnster was both aggrieved and helpless. “To think even being a dragon is such a hardship, getting played by these two old eccentrics!” he thought. But he could only echo them with forced magnanimity: “To be of service to the honored ones is my privilege.”

Though his words sounded gracious, they were only half true. He did genuinely admire them, but even if he did not, he dared not refuse. These old men were unfathomable—anger one, and you might be beaten, or worse, killed. In the end, they’d take what they wanted regardless, so why not earn some goodwill and show his own broad-mindedness? He thought his decision was wise indeed, and silently gave himself a dragon’s thumbs up.

There were many ancient spirit herbs that the Divine Herbalist coveted. Both he and Divine Lord Liyang were seasoned old monsters, well aware of the Thunder Dragon’s thoughts, but all kept up the pretense for the sake of dignity.

Besides the Blood Spirit Lingzhi, the Divine Herbalist collected several more hundred-thousand-year-old herbs. For the two elders, these were windfalls; for Rehnster, their loss was a sorrowful parting. He had guarded them for so many years, if not for merit, then for effort—now, gone in an instant, with no way to resist. All he could do was feel quietly heartbroken.

The two old men were not true robbers; their herb gathering was forced by circumstance.

Having achieved their goal, they needed to hurry onward in search of other missing herbs. The child’s condition was dire; there was no time to lose.

Before leaving, Divine Lord Liyang and the Divine Herbalist bestowed small tokens upon the Thunder Dragon as compensation. The Divine Herbalist gave him a pill to deepen his cultivation—a necessity in this world where strength was everything. Divine Lord Liyang gave him a jade talisman engraved with the seal of divine power, created by fusing a drop of Rehnster’s dragon blood (taken while treating his wounds) with his own cultivated essence. If crushed, the talisman would grant Rehnster the use of ninety percent of Divine Lord Liyang’s power for a full hour.

The Divine Herbalist explained, “This is a Primordial Spirit-Gathering Pill I refined. It can raise your cultivation by two hundred years within seventy-two hours, with no adverse side effects.”

Divine Lord Liyang added, “In this jade talisman, I have fused my own power with a drop of your dragon blood. If you crush it, you will gain ninety percent of my strength for one hour. The only side effect is that you’ll be weakened for twelve hours afterward—use it wisely.”

An extra two hundred years of cultivation meant little to Rehnster, who could earn that in a single sleep, but the talisman was a true treasure. Used at the right moment, it could turn the tide against an enemy, or even save his life—far more precious than the herbs that had been taken.

Hearing this, Rehnster was overwhelmed, happiness crashing upon him like a tidal wave. It all seemed a dream, and for a long time he was at a loss for words. At last, he could only bow his massive dragon form low in gratitude, “Such great kindness—Rehnster cannot hope to repay…”

Before he could finish, Divine Lord Liyang interjected, “We have simply made a fair trade according to our needs. There is no need for thanks.”

Though Rehnster had been beaten soundly and stripped of several ancient herbs, the return gifts of the two elders were the difference between a child and an adult. Rehnster’s respect for these powerful yet reasonable beings only deepened.

The two elders had indeed struck with one hand and offered sweets with the other.

With that, Divine Lord Liyang and the Divine Herbalist soared away from the Thunder Domain, heading toward the next critical destination—the Dark Fire Region.