Chapter 142: Magical Cultivation
Feng Zhang took in a deep breath and felt the magical energy in the air.
It was beautiful... pure... everything he had ever wanted in his life.
It felt like qi but at the same time it was not qi, he would be able to recognize the energy that evaded him all his life if it was.
His whole life he had known rejection.
When the others in his sect had begun to cultivate, he had only watched from the shadows, clutching his heirloom and forcing himself to smile as though it didn’t matter.
The elders had called him defective.
His peers had called him a cripple. At best he had been pitied; at worst he had been beaten.
But this — this was different.
He willed the energy to enter his body.
At first, he doubted there would be any change.
He was so used to failure that he had come to expect it.
Even now, with Azel standing above him, silver hair gleaming and crimson eyes calm, Feng braced himself for nothingness.
And then it came.
Energy flowed into his dantian like water rushing through a broken dam.
His chest tightened, his veins tingled, his entire body thrummed as the empty core inside him began to fill.
It did not resist.
It did not slip away like qi always had.
No, it stayed.
It belonged.
The boy gasped, his lips parting as a rush of heat coursed through him.
For years he had tried and failed, and yet with a single breath, this new energy had answered him.
Mana.
’This is heavenly,’ he thought, almost shaking.
His body acted without thought, absorbing more and more, like a parched man gulping down fresh spring water.
He felt alive.
And then —
A spark.
Feng raised his trembling fingers, staring as if afraid they would betray him.
He willed the energy forward, desperate to see if it was real, if it wasn’t a cruel dream.
A flame bloomed.
It was a blue flame. It danced on his fingertips like a flower opening in spring.
Feng’s eyes went wide.
His chest clenched painfully, a sob threatening to tear free.
’Whoa.’
He could cry.
Truly cry.
For the first time in his life, he could channel energy.
It was so beautiful —
Thump!
"Ah!" Feng flinched hard as something smacked his head.
He fell back in shock, convinced for a split second that the gift had been stripped from him, that punishment had come and that perhaps all this was a cruel dream.
But when the object slid into his lap, his panic turned to confusion.
It was hot. Warmth seeped through the simple packaging.
He blinked.
Then slowly tore it open.
Steam rose.
The scent hit him like a blow.
Inside was roasted fish, glistening, seasoned, steaming.
His stomach growled so loudly it made him flinch again.
He looked up.
Azel’s gaze met his, unreadable but kind.
The silver-haired man gave a faint nod.
"M-master, all these for me?" Feng stammered, his voice almost breaking.
He had eaten scraps most of his life.
Food that others had tossed aside.
Bones stripped of meat.
He remembered being kicked aside when he tried to claim leftovers, beaten when he tried to steal stale bread.
To be given a full, hot meal — it was unthinkable or was this a trick?
It most probably was right?
"Are you sure?" he pressed again, unable to believe it.
Just yesterday, a stall owner had offered him food only to snatch it away and strike him when he reached for it.
His head still throbbed from the memory.
"Should I just collect it?" Azel said aloud, lifting a brow.
Feng’s body moved before thought could catch up.
His eyes flashed with panic as he dove into the meal, devouring it with wild desperation.
"Oi, don’t choke," Azel said sharply, though his tone softened as he watched.
Feng didn’t hear.
His teeth cracked through fish bones as though they were nothing, his jaws working feverishly.
Grease smeared his chin, but he didn’t care.
He tore through it like a starving animal.
’How bad was it really?’ Azel wondered grimly.
Eating the fish bones along with the fish was diabolical.
Every bite felt like salvation to Feng.
His eyes stung as he chewed, though he couldn’t tell if it was from the steam or from emotions he didn’t have words for.
Relief?
Gratitude?
Desperation?
He just kept eating.
The door creaked open.
"Hey Azel. We got put on sales duty~"
A cheerful voice rang out, breaking the quiet.
Feng froze mid-bite, looking up like a guilty thief.
Veyra stepped in with the bounce of someone who had never known hunger or humiliation.
Her silver hair swayed around her shoulders, her eyes sparkling with mischief.
She stopped mid-step when she noticed him.
"Oh?" Her head tilted, curiosity sparking. "Who is he?"
"My new subordinate," Azel said simply, though his gaze lingered briefly on Feng. "You can call him Feng."
Feng swallowed hard and quickly bowed his head, still clutching the empty carton.
He licked the last of the grease from his fingers, cheeks burning with shame.
It must have looked pathetic but did he care? He didn’t.
Veyra’s lips twitched as though she fought the urge to laugh.
She turned back to Azel.
"Okay," she said, brushing it aside. "Like I was saying... the meat we dealt with over the past few days, we have to sell it now. You haven’t been to the butcher, so I’ll show you around. You can bring Feng along too. He can help move stuff."
Her tone was casual, but her eyes flicked once more toward Feng, thoughtful now.
Azel gave a curt nod.
Feng, still kneeling, wiped his greasy hands against his torn clothes, feeling oddly out of place.
He didn’t know what sales duty was, but if it meant he could stay near his Master, he would do it without question.
Veyra, however, made her own silent decision.
She would ask Azel later when they were out, how exactly this ragged boy had ended up here?
’Is it one of his abilities?’ She was excited to find out.