Cultivation Fever 7 Sickness

Channelling qi through my eyes must have made this possible. I made a mental note to try it again when I had qi to spare.

I had to be precise when I shaped my soul. I began to spin it, then slowly sped up. The qi resting on it began to slip off, but I ignored that.

I imagined a force pressing from opposite sides. The edges of the disc began to curl, then rise upwards. I shaped it, like a potter forms a bowl.

The edge of the disk was slanted now, and there was no resistance when I pushed it up further. The qi inside formed a shallow well, but some still splashed out. I had to make the bowl deeper.

I took my time. I didn't want to rip to the container's paper-thin surface. Slowly but surely, the sides rose, and began to resemble a vase.

I noticed that I only made progress when qi splashed out of the container. I needed qi to continue, but the well was drying up.

A final drop of qi splashed out, and I gave one last push. With no more qi left, I couldn't continue, and I lead my focus away.

The instant my concentration dropped I heard a ping from my soul. It sounded like someone struck a wine gla.s.s to make a toast. The ping reverberated through my body, slowly building in volume.

The ping became a high-pitched ringing sound, and my body started to vibrate. The vibrations rushed to my core and my soul began to shake.

I felt a gut-wrenching pain, like someone was squeezing all my organs. Both my soul and my body screamed in agony. My eyes flashed open, my back arched, and I let out an unG.o.dly screech.

Father rushed to my side. He put his hand on my chest, then recoiled in surprise. When he put his hands back, they gave off a scorching heat.

I waited for the rush of pleasure, but there was none. It felt like my body was being ripped, tugged and burnt. I tried to squirm away from father's hands, but I couldn't escape.

Why was he hurting me? I couldn't explain it. All I could do was struggle.

"… Oscar!" he shouted at me "… Oscar!"

I didn't know what he meant but I clung onto the sounds. He sounded panicked, not angry. I clenched my jaw and tried to stop fighting him.

His burning qi shot straight to my soul and filled it in a flash. The ringing stopped and the pain vanished. I wanted to understand what had happened, but I had no time.

The pain was gone, and a deep sickening feeling had replaced it. Father removed his hand, and my body seized up as I start retching.

From the corner of my eye I saw father run to his desk. He ripped out a drawer and emptied it on the floor.

"Stephanie! …!" he screamed.

I tried to watch him, but vomit poured from my mouth and I curled up into a ball. I heard banging and grinding but I had no idea what he was doing.

The banging stopped, and I felt a hand push my head back. Something was forced into my mouth, and I gagged. It was dry and bitter, and I spat in reflex.

But father clamped his hand around my jaw. I opened my eyes in shock, to see him shaking his head. He jabbed a finger at his throat and made a swallowing gesture.

Somehow, I had to force this stuff down. But vomit rushed back up as if to stop me. Father felt me convulse and shouted again.

"Stephanie!"

He made another swallowing gesture to me, but I was choking on my own vomit. I couldn't breathe. My throat was blocked. I started to panic, and saw father panic too.

With a crash, mother swept into the study. She shoved father out the way and poured something cold in my mouth.

Somehow, I managed to swallow, but my throat was raw, and my breath was ragged. Mother shouted something, and father responded solemnly.

Mother looked at me with a pained face. She stroked my head and spoke softly, repeating my name over, and over again.

I felt sick and weak. I retched again, but mother clamped her hand over my mouth. Through my bleary eyes I could see tears running down her face. She shouted again at father, who shouted back defensively.

I lay there, stuck in a cycle of retching and choking back vomit. Eventually the sickness left, replaced with numb relief. Finally at peace, I pa.s.sed out.

I woke up in an unfamiliar room. I was in mother's arms, with father by my side. A man stood behind a counter, grinding something in a mortar and pestle.

The room was strange, lit by an unearthly glow. The walls were lined with rows of shelves and cupboards. On the shelves were countless books, plants, tools and vials.

Mother jumped when she felt me wake and alerted the stranger. He wore a robe similar to father's, weighed down by many dull chains.

He walked up to me and pried open my eyes with two fingers. He seemed quite old and had a burning strength behind his mahogany eyes.

There was not an ounce of fat on his face. The muscles in his jaw rippled as he ground his teeth in concentration. With a sigh, he took away his hand and faced my parents.

He began to lecture them, and they nodded along. While he talked, he emptied the mortar into a small cloth and tied it tightly.

He pa.s.sed it to father and gave a few last words. My parents bowed deeply in response. The man motioned toward a large iron bound wooden door, and father pulled it open.

My parents talked as they walked, and father was clearly exasperated. I took the chance to look at my surroundings. It was a cavernous hall hewn from rock, with a glowing pool in the middle.

We circled the hall, pa.s.sing many eclectic doors, before walking through a corridor. Glaring sunlight flooded my eyes when we reached the end.

When my eyes adjusted, I saw two lines of men standing along a cobble path. They wore green cuira.s.ses and held tall spears.

"Probably guards," I thought. I must have been taken to someone important, for him to be guarded like this.

Waiting at the end of the path was a plain looking, horse-drawn carriage. Father opened the door for mother, and we stepped in.

The carriage began to move, but I couldn't see out of it. Mother and father were silent, and there was a tense air. I was left to my thoughts.

I must have done something horrible to my body when I exhausted my qi. Father seemed to have supressed it, but he needed this important man's help.

I went to my soul to see what had happened to it. What met me send a chill down my spine. My soul had shattered.