Legend of The Young Master

Chapter 51: Pain and Questions

Wuyi ached in pain. Gao had done venting with all his energy left.

"You see, bastard," he sneered, "I tried to warn them you weren't worthy. I said the training would kill you. But you wouldn't listen. You tried to take what was meant for another. Once again, I am proven right. You are a waste of my time." Clearly, Gao really wanted to kill him.

Wuyi didn't know when Gao had left, but eventually, he realized it was the moon that watched over him, not Gao. With great effort, he rolled onto his belly. Standing was impossible, but crawling—scraping his body along the ground—he moved.

His bones ached; he had protected the organs, but bones had faced Gao's wrath. Still, nothing was seriously broken; he had protected even the vital bones. Still, he cursed Gao in his mind. It was a long, painful to crawl in the cold moonlight.

He was half asleep on floor when he heard steady steps he knew this was Boluo. The moon was still high when Boluo gently turned him over. There was someone else with Boluo it was Chao who held a lamp aloft. Boluo lifted Wuyi as if he were a child, carrying him down the stone staircase and out of the fort to the stables, then up to his room.

Not a word was spoken. Boluo laid Wuyi on his bed and moved it closer to the fire. As warmth returned to his body, so did the pain. Wuyi surrendered himself to Boluo's care, his soul retreating to the sacred chamber, letting go of consciousness for what felt like an eternity.

When he finally opened his eyes, it was still night. Boluo sat beside him, alert but not tense. Wuyi felt cloth wraps tightly bound around his ribs and noticed splints on two of his fingers. "They were swollen," Boluo explained, "too swollen to determine if they were broken or sprained. I splinted them just in case. You would have woken up from the pain if they were broken."

His voice was steady, his demeanor calm. Boluo adjusted the cloth wraps around Wuyi's ribs and then casually asked, "What happened?" He picked up a cup of tea, making it seem as if the question—and Wuyi's answer—were of little consequence.

But Wuyi could feel it; Boluo was not just angry; he wanted to make Gao feel the same pain that Wuyi was feeling. Wuyi sighed; he had to calm Boluo before he did something rash. Wuyi struggled to find the words, to piece together the events that had led him to this moment. "Gao tested me," he began hesitantly, "and I failed.

He punished me for it." As he spoke, he feigned sadness; he needed to act convincingly and never return to Gao's training. He would cultivate in peace in his chamber.

"Drink this," Boluo instructed, handing him a cup filled with a pungent liquid. "It's water with herbs. It will numb the pain and help you sleep. Drink it all."

"It stinks," Wuyi commented, but Boluo simply nodded and held the cup to his lips, as his hands were too bruised to hold it himself. Wuyi drank it down and lay back on the bed.

"Is that all?" Boluo probed cautiously. "He tested you on something he taught you, and because you failed, he did this to you?"

"I couldn't do it. He wanted to help me open Baihui point but something went wrong. That's why he punished me. He wanted me to learn self discipline do better maybe." Boluo felt Wuy's words were fragmented, maybe his thoughts clouded by pain.

"No one learns self-discipline by being beaten half to death," Boluo stated, his voice tinged with a stern clarity as he set the empty cup back on the table.

"It wasn't just to teach me," Wuyi clarified. "I don't think he believes I can be taught. It was to show the others what would happen if they failed."

"Very little worth knowing is taught by fear," Boluo asserted. "A bad teacher uses fear and hitting to teach. Think about trying to train a horse or a dog like that. Even the most stubborn dog learns better from an open hand than from a stick."

"You've disciplined me before when trying to teach me something," Wuyi pointed out.

"Yes, I have," Boluo admitted. "But those strikes were meant to jolt, warn, or awaken you—not to cause harm. Never to break a bone, blind an eye, or cripple a hand. Never. Don't ever say that I've struck you or any creature in my care in such a manner. It's not true." His voice was filled with indignation, as if the very suggestion was an affront to his character.

"No, you're right about that," Wuyi conceded, his voice tinged with exhaustion. "But this was different, Boluo. A different kind of learning, a different kind of teaching," he hesitated, his words heavy with unspoken worries. "I deserved this, Boluo. The fault wasn't with his teaching; it was with my learning. I tried, I really did.

But like Gao, I believe there's a reason cultivation isn't taught to everyone. There's a taint in me, a fatal weakness. It's better we let it go. I want to return to a normal life and stop this suffering," he sighed, wanting nothing more than to move past it all.

"Horseshit," Boluo retorted, his eyes narrowing.

"Think about it. If you breed a scrub mare to a fine stud, the colt might inherit the mother's weaknesses just as easily as the father's strengths." Wuyi did not consider that Boluo would feel such strongly about his cultivation.

Boluo paused, his eyes searching mine. "I doubt your father would have chosen a 'scrub.' You're underestimating the Yuanjing clan."

His fingers gently prodded just below Wuyi's temple, sending a jolt of pain through Wuyi. "That's how close you were to losing an eye to this 'teaching,'" he said, his voice rising with anger. He paced the room, then spun to face him. "You promised me you'd be diligent and avoid trouble. Why did you confront him?"