Chapter [B5] 26 — Spirit Batteries - II
When Lu Jie entered the room, she’d thought it was just for a visit, or to ask for advice. His earlier promise to heal her… She was not callous enough to inquire about that when the boy would be sacrificing himself a day later to the Demon God. She was at peace now, fine with passing on—if she had any regrets, it was that she couldn’t accompany Liuxiang longer.
But what the boy said made her eyes widen.
“Should I give it to you?” Lu Jie asked.
“Give me what?” she responded, even as his teasing tone made her heart bloom with hope.
He lifted his hands a fraction, and the air above his palms brightened. A small shape hovered there—petals cupped around a core of gentle light. It chimed once, the chime making her feel a smile spread on her face. She felt the warmth of it on her skin, not hot, not sharp, just present. A spirit. A new one. She could taste the purity of the divine tree in it, the order of that great being’s leaves focused and given a task.
She knew, because she had lived long enough around spirits and cultivators to tell when a thing would help a body and when it would harm, that this would help. He had made it from those leaves, then. He had made it to place inside a person to build what had been lost, hadn’t he?
For a second Matriarch Shie couldn’t believe it. The boy… he’d truly done it? She’d… perhaps it was foolish to even doubt whether the boy could do something, at this point. He was a true favored son of the Heavens—no, that wouldn’t fit, with how much he hated the Heavens—the true favored son of the Dao would work.
Her doubt was not about his skill. It was about the size of the task. Restoring what she had lost was not a matter of pills and a week of guided circulation. Her meridians were not simply tired; they were torn and collapsed, walls thinned beyond safe use. She had stood at the center of too much, too long. There were days when simply propping herself on pillows had left her lungs working hard to pull air through. Her fingers had shaken without relief.
To pull her back from death’s door to being a cultivator once more… That was a task only a divine being could do.
But Lu Jie was a divine being in a sense, wasn’t he?“Yes,” she gasped breathlessly, and the spirit floated over to her.
It touched her sternum lightly and then passed through. There was no tearing. There was no pressure like a ram charging a gate. There was a gentle spread of warmth, and then a clear feeling of movement along lines she had not felt in far too long. It did not rush for the deepest channels first. It found the warmest, safest paths. It traced the arcs that still held shape and marked the broken runs without trying to tear them open. It found the old injury along her right side, noted it, and moved on. It widened the small loops that could be widened without strain.
Her breath changed without effort—longer, smoother, less work for the same intake.
She looked at Lu Jie as she moved from the bed, feeling nothing but awe course through her heart. She stood hesitantly, hand to the mattress, turn from the hips, feet set under her before she raised fully. The action did not leave her ribs tight or her vision flecked. Her fingers still had a trace of tremor, but when she flexed, the tremor stabilized, and a slow steadiness settled in at the base of each finger joint. She tested her knees, shifted her weight from left to right, held the stance for three breaths, then added a fourth and a fifth without feeling like she was stealing the breath from somewhere else.
She let out the breath she was holding, some small braced part in her chest finally releasing its grip. The room’s sounds which had felt muffled and impossible to hear a few seconds ago now felt vivid and clear. The distant scuff of a boot in the corridor or the soft rasp of cloth as Lu Jie adjusted his sleeve, she could pinpoint each one perfectly.
The joy bounding through her heart washed away the anxiety that had lingered in her heart till now. Whether the boy would know how to make something that could heal her, whether he would bother making it, whether he could pull it off at all with the pressure of the entire world resting on his shoulders, all of it faded, only bolstering the confidence she already had in him.
She had watched him solve problems that bent older minds. She had watched him choose the safety of the citizens over his own safety when a choice presented itself. She had watched him listen when a better answer came from another mouth. She had seen him care genuinely for Liuxiang.
She had seen him willing to sacrifice himself for the greater good.
It wasn’t his power that made Lu Jie impressive, but the ways he applied that power with such care. With the right spirit, in the right order, at the right time.
She bowed to Lu Jie, even as he protested and tried to make her stand.
He moved as if to catch her elbow, to keep the bow from deepening, and she lifted a hand to stop him.
“No, Lu Jie.” She performed a full kowtow that put her head to the ground. “You are a benefactor. This is right.” She stayed in the kowtow for a full five seconds before rising. ŘÄɴÒ𝐁ĚṠ
Lu Jie stared at her with an abashed grin. The boy really was that kind of person, wasn’t he? A genuine person who just cared.
And now he was going to die soon.
The thought made her turn rigid. “You are an amazing young man,” was all she managed to force through her mouth while keeping her tone even, complex emotions raging within her.
She was not easy to impress after the years she had lived. She had seen leaders bend the world to suit their weakness and saints fold when the hour tested them. She had seen both blood families and sworn ones betray each other.
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But this was the first time she’d seen someone like Lu Jie. Someone who was so easy to understand, yet baffling enough in existence. Like a rare creature you’d not expect to meet.
Lu Jie chuckled at her words, clearly not noticing the depth of emotions and memories churning beneath the words she’d said.
“I’ve gotta go back, then,” Lu Jie said, casually, waving his right hand at her, “Lots of work to do, lots more spirits to make.”
There was much she wanted to say, much she wanted to do, but all she did was stare, as he stepped out of the room.
—
I looked at the spirits that had practically filled the room—hundreds upon hundreds of them, all around me. With this, I had enough not only for the mortals but also the newly awakened cultivators who needed a boost.
With this, our army would have a much higher chance of surviving.
I walked the room once more to count. I didn’t have to, but counting calmed the part of my mind that wanted to jump ahead. I kept a finger on the tally line along the door lintel, adding a mark every ten. The marks ran past the midpoint and to the far side. A good number. I had packed the earlier batches into unlidded cups with chalk marks—single lines for first run, double for the rechecked set, a dot for those that had passed a heat test against a lamp flame, just in case. Those stood ready on the bench. The spirits in the air were the fresh run. They pulsed faintly, in time with my breathing.
I closed my eyes for one breath to fix the next steps. Then I opened them and reached for the connection I had spent the last days testing.
I took a deep breath and let my divine aura spread through the city. As it surged, soldiers and mortals alike paused: the ones who’d fought on the wall that day, the ones continuing their tasks. The aura went down into the tunnels that led to the water and up the stairwells to the roofs where the light rigs waited. It reached the workshops in the inner ring, where Yin’s people were toiling away, and where my master was making more pills. It brushed the militia yards where Zhang drilled the soldiers and the mess halls where steam carried the smell of boiled greens and grain. It touched the quiet corners where the elders rested with cloths over their eyes. I felt people pause—hands stilling over a bolt, a pen lifted from a page, a body leaning against a post as if listening for a call.
Then I let my divine sense sweep through Yin’s room. Even now, she forged through the final hours—making more and more bombs, more of those specific, laser-targeted weapons toward the demon god. She only paused for a breath when she felt the aura settle over her shoulders, but then she continued, clearly recognizing it was me.
I let the spirits go free.
They headed toward their targets in clean, golden lines, floating through my house and into the sky. A single spirit drifted toward each person on the list; a second would follow only if the first flagged a tolerance for more.
I watched for a second as people gasped, feeling themselves break into cultivation, feeling themselves step into higher realms. The reactions touched my sense like sparks. A stall-keeper in the third lane leaned against her counter and held her breath for three counts because a warmth had just filled her body in ways only the cultivator soldiers described. A man on watch at the western tower pressed his palm to his chest and took a longer breath than his last dozen because the tightness that had been choking him since the last fight eased enough that he could swallow without working for it.
A young cultivator in a drill square went from shaky second realm to a stable third realm with a sound that would have been a shout if he had not been biting his lip to keep from drawing attention. He didn’t run to tell anyone. He stepped back into the line and kept his eyes forward. A healer in the south ward blinked a few times, her jaw falling open, because her patient’s body had just begun healing visibly, which should be impossible for a cultivator with their cultivation broken.
Despite the blessing, most gave only a short prayer, clearly attributing it to me and the Divine Tree before they simply continued working. They had a war to face. Everyone was motivated. Everyone was focused. They could not afford to be distracted. None of us could.
I drew my sense back and let the city rest at the edge of my awareness, a steady weight rather than something active I was focused on.
I looked at the leaves still on my table and rolled up my sleeves. I had work to do too. Couldn’t neglect my job when the rest of the city was so dedicated and focused, could I? I still had more leaves; so it was better to make more spirits. They could be healed in place of healing pills, in the final war, or just to give a boost in Chi reserves.
Better to have a reserve of them, just in case, no?
—
I looked at Elder Tian Feng and his spirit, Xian Yue. I was thankful to both of them; they’d helped me quite a bit. It felt right to meet them too once, before the final battle. I’d used up all my leaves, to make the spirits, and all the preparations were made; formation masters ready, weapons geared up and the army formed. Within an hour, we would head to the palace.
“How do you think all of this will end?” I couldn’t help but ask as I looked at the man.
The Elder tilted his head. “I am not sure. I do not have the ability to read into the future to that extent.”
I nodded. “That’s fair. Will you be participating in the battle?”
Elder Tian Feng’s expression turned rather… complicated, at that. “I have my reasons, but I will not be. I will be here with the vanguard, ready to protect the city if something goes wrong.”
I tilted my head, wondering what his reasons were. Were they related to the Lunar Court, and his spirit—Labby did have a scuffle with them, after all. Or was it related to his ability to scry the future? Would his presence in the battlefield be not ideal? Despite all my wondering, however, I didn’t really mind Elder Tian Feng’s absence. It was true that having someone powerful here to protect the civilians would give me some peace of mind.
“Are you sure?” the Elder asked after a second of silence.
I could figure what he was referring to, so I nodded. “I am. I have had a good life. I am not giving up, no. There is still a chance that I won’t need to sacrifice myself. But in truth… I know it is unlikely there will be any other option. And I have accepted it. I am ready to accept the cost of transcendence if it means ending the power of the Demon God.”
Elder Tian Feng nodded. He paused for a second, an inner battle clearly happening in his mind, before he finally spoke. “You know, Lu Jie, once upon a time, many, many years ago, I was faced with a similar choice to yours: where, if I sacrificed myself—if I sacrificed my future—others would have lived happier. Back then, I had been selfish. Young, inexperienced. And so I did not. It led to suffering, and to death.” The Elder paused, his expression becoming something truly bitter. “My actions are something I still regret. That one thing I did is something that still haunts me. But now, when I look at you, Lu Jie, I realize that my excuses of being young, inexperienced… They are nothing but false platitudes. I was just a worse person than you when I was younger.”
I opened my mouth to refute—
The elder lifted a hand and shook his head. “I am not saying this to flatter you. I just spoke about it since… I wanted to thank you.” Xian Yue nodded along with the Elder, her soft giggles ethereal.
“Thank me? For what?”
“For everything.”