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64.44% Demonic Path: I Can Optimise / Chapter 58: Get Me Those Chickens

Chapter 58: Get Me Those Chickens

The prospect of action, of applying his skills beyond the theoretical, stirs a sense of purpose within him. With its narrow streets and whispered rumours, the town becomes a backdrop to the unfolding path before him, a journey of his own making within the larger tapestry of the Bone Ash Sect's legacy.

Li Wei reflects on the situation as a chance to further his skills in "Bone Spire" and "Bone Manipulation." The prospect of facing bandits does not trouble him; his intentions are set. "Encountering bandits would simply provide a practical application for my techniques. If they cross my path, I'll address it. Otherwise, my concern remains minimal," he thinks, focusing squarely on using this opportunity to enhance his cultivation, undisturbed by the potential moral implications of such encounters.

"Although I've agreed to help, that doesn't mean I'll go out of my way to find them," he contemplates the clarity of his decision, cutting through the complexity of potential encounters. "Should these people be unfortunate enough to cross paths with me, theyll make good test subjects."

This internal dialogue shapes his outlook on the impending interactions. Li Wei's readiness to apply his skills, if necessary, is tempered by a pragmatic approach to engagement. "If not," he concludes, "I'll simply continue on. My priority is my cultivation."

As Li Wei and Lu Huan are escorted by a guard to their temporary residence, the architectural beauty of the house unfolds before them. The structure's sweeping, tiled roofs that curve upwards at the edges speak of traditional elegance. Wooden lattice windows punctuate the whitewashed walls, offering glimpses of the interior's warmth. The courtyard at the heart of the dwelling is serene, a stone path leading through meticulously maintained gardens, past a small pond where fish glide beneath the surface.

Upon arrival, Li Wei's gaze sweeps over the guard, his impatience surfacing. "What are you standing around for? Go get me those chickens and bring them to the village gates," he commands, his tone brooking no delay.

The guard stammers a hasty, "Yes, yes, right away," before scurrying off to fulfil the request, understanding the urgency behind the seemingly peculiar demand.

Choosing a room within the house, Li Wei assesses its suitability for his needs — a space offering tranquillity and privacy for contemplation and practice. The room is sparsely furnished, in keeping with the minimalist aesthetics, featuring a low table and cushions for seating, with scrolls and ink set neatly to one side. Natural light filters through the paper screens, casting a soft glow on the polished wooden floor.

"Lu Huan, hide my personal effects," Li Wei instructs, ensuring his belongings are securely stored in the room's wooden chest. "Come with me," he adds, signalling it's time to head towards their next destination.

"Bring my books," he instructs, eyes locking onto those of his followers to ensure the gravity of the request is understood. "Make sure they are out of sight," he adds, the directive succinct, leaving no room for misinterpretation. Lu Huan nods, a gesture of compliance, as he gathers the precious volumes. He carefully conceals them from prying eyes, ensuring their safety and secrecy. 

Li Wei steps forward, his movements deliberate as he leads towards the village gates. Each step on the cobblestone path resonates with a clear intention, the familiarity of the route doing little to dull the anticipation of what lies ahead. The air around them carries the quiet hum of the village, a backdrop to their singular focus.

They reach the designated spot, the boundary between the known comforts of the village and the outside. The gates stand tall, a testament to the divide between the safety of the village and the wild unpredictability of the outside world.

Time passes in a measured beat, the sun tracing its path across the sky, casting shadows that dance lightly over the ground. The wait, though brief, stretches long in the silence of expectation.

The guard reappears, his approach marked by a hastened pace that speaks of urgency. His chest heaves with the effort of his swift return, a slight sheen of sweat on his brow the only testament to the speed of his task. In his grasp, he carries a cage, the bamboo framework speaking of skilled craftsmanship. Its construction is light and designed for mobility, yet it does not compromise on strength.

Within the confines of the cage, chickens stir. Their movements are restless, an orchestra of soft clucks and rustles filling the air as they shift and peck at the bamboo floor. Oblivious to the gravity of their situation, they remain ensconced in their immediate concerns, the simplicity of their existence stark against the complexity of the task at hand.

Li Wei observes, his gaze lingering on the cage. For all their unwitting innocence, the chickens are about to play a crucial role in the unfolding events. 

The guard carefully sets the cage down, his breathing now evened out as he recovers from exertion. The exchange of responsibility from his hands to Li Wei's is unspoken but understood. 

The path from the village gates, now marked by the arrival of the chickens, stretches out before them.

With Lu Huan in step, Li Wei crosses the threshold of the village gates, the boundary between the known and the realms that lie beyond. The gate closed behind them with a muted thud, a finality that marks the beginning of their venture into the open.

In the quiet that follows their departure, Li Wei turns to Lu Huan, his movements deliberate. From his hands to Lu Huan's, the cage containing the chickens is passed. Li Wei then leads without a word, setting a pace that speaks of purpose and resolve.

Following the main road, Li Wei moves with intent. The village, with its woven tapestry of lives and stories, fades behind him as the path unwinds under his feet. The road, a ribbon of dirt and stone, stretches ahead, leading away from the security of known boundaries.

Without hesitation, his course shifts. He steps off the path, his boots finding new purchase on the soft, yielding earth beneath the grass. The change in terrain is immediate, the grass brushing against his legs with each step, a whisper of the untamed world that lies just beyond the village's reach.

The world around him opens up, the expanse of open field stretching wide before narrowing at the edge where the forest begins its dominion. Li Wei advances, taking him closer to the threshold between the open and the enclosed, the tamed and the wild.

He halts at the precipice of the forest, where the grass thins and gives way to the dense underbrush of the trees. Here, the boundary is marked not just by the change in the landscape but by the shift in the air—the scent of earth and leaf mould, the sound of life hidden within the forest's depths.

Standing at this boundary, Li Wei pauses, taking in the transition before him. The forest looms, a wall of green, its shadows deep and inviting. The grass underfoot, still touched by the sun's light, contrasts with the dimness that awaits beyond the forest's edge.

"Here is good," Li Wei declares, his voice breaking the silence that had accompanied their walk. The space around them, a clearing near the forest's edge, offers a seclusion fitting for what is to come.

"Yes, master," responds Lu Huan, his voice a murmur against the backdrop of the forest's whispers. He settles close by, his presence a silent testament to his vigilance and unwavering focus on Li Wei.

Li Wei finds his place on the ground, the earth beneath him firm and unyielding. Lu Huan, mirroring his master's action, sits nearby, his attention fixed on Li Wei, a student eager for the lessons veiled within the actions of his mentor.

"Give me the manuals," Li Wei commands, his request cutting through the quiet with the precision of a blade.

"Yes, master," Lu Huan replies, his hands moving to retrieve the items. From the depths of his belongings, he produces two manuals, their covers worn by use and time. With reverence, he hands them over to Li Wei.

Li Wei receives the manuals "Bone Spire" and "Bone Manipulation," their titles a promise of the power contained within their pages. Their weight in his hands feels like holding the very essence of power they offer. 

Li Wei unfolds the cover of the "Bone Spire" manual, the pages crackling softly under his touch. He places it open before him, the characters etched on the paper whispering ancient secrets. Beside him, he carefully sets down the second manual, its presence a silent promise of knowledge yet to be tested.

Under the cloak of dusk, Li Wei sits at the forest's edge, the manuals by his side serving as silent mentors. The "Bone Spire" manual lies open, its pages illuminated by the moon's soft glow, each word a beacon guiding him through the complexities.

Li Wei settles into a stance of concentrated stillness, the forest's ambient chorus fading to a murmur against the focus of his task. He extends his hand towards the earth, his palm open, as if to greet the ground beneath him. The initial effort to coax the spires from beneath the soil begins with a surge of qi from his core, directed through his arm and towards the waiting earth. Yet, the ground remains unmarked, his internal energy dissipating into the air, invisible and without effect.


Chapter 59: The Tree Stands

His hand extended towards the damp earth below, fingers spread as he gently pressed his palm against the cool, moist soil. The sensation of wetness seeps into his skin, grounding him and connecting him with the ancient, life-giving essence of the earth. He closes his eyes and inhales deeply, drawing in the scent of rich loam and decayed leaves—a fragrance of endless cycles of life, death, and rebirth.

As he channels a slender thread of qi, visualising it as an extension of his will, he focuses on merging this internal energy with the elemental force beneath him. The qi envisioned as a probing tendril of light, emanates from the core of his being, reaching out to intertwine with the earth's essence. Yet, the connection feels tenuous, the qi diffusing too soon, grazing the soil's surface without altering its state, dissipating like vapour caught on the morning breeze.

A flicker of frustration crosses Li Wei's expression, a subtle tightening of his jaw in the face of this setback. 

"The difference between what I've read and what I'm doing... it's like night and day," Li Wei thinks, staring down at the lifeless form before him. "But I'll bridge this gap soon enough." 

Li Wei refocuses, his gaze sharpening. This time, he summons his qi with greater intent, imagining it as a more robust stream, a connection flowing from his core, seeking communion with the earth. The energy extends, touching the ground with a promise of power. A faint shiver travels through the soil, a whisper of potential that teases him before fading. It's a slight improvement, an acknowledgement from the earth, though the spires remain elusive.

Adjusting his stance, Li Wei seeks a deeper connection with the ground beneath him. He delves into his qi reserves, drawing it forth with a stronger conviction. As he exhales, releasing the energy, he guides it with a clear vision, a path carved in his mind's eye that seeks to penetrate the soil. The ground responds with a soft rumble, a sign of contact, yet still, the desired spires do not materialise. Frustration flickers at the edges of his focus, but so does a growing sense of progress.

"What if I just go with it instead of imposing my will against it? It costs me nothing to try," he muses, lighting a spark of curiosity.

This time, his approach is one of partnership rather than domination. He envisions his qi as not an invader but a welcome guest, mingling with the earth's energies. The release of qi this time causes the ground to tremble more noticeably, the earth acknowledging the respect in his technique. Yet, the spires remain just beyond reach, a challenge still to be met.

Li Wei feels the latent energy of the earth around him. With this attempt, he imagines his qi as roots, reaching out for nourishment, intertwining with the essence of the soil. He directs his energy with a fluidity born of this new understanding. The soil stirs, a section of ground swelling as if to birth the spires he commands. It's a moment pregnant with possibility that collapses back into the earth, a near success that sharpens his hunger for mastery.

Li Wei senses the precise moment and place for the spires to emerge. His qi, no longer a mere extension of his will but a vibrant force in its own right, surges forth. He commands the ground to yield, and at last, it obeys. Thin, straight bone growths spear through the soil, a testament to his perseverance and skill. Each spire is a thin line, like a spider's silk protruding from the soil; they aren't that long, and their structure is not so good as they flop and fall.

"Yes, this is it! The density... the sharpness... I can alter it all!"

Li Wei selects a tree on the forest's edge, its presence commanding yet unassuming among its kin. The stalwart oak tree stands tall, its bark rough and grooved, a testament to years of weathering the elements. Its branches stretch upwards, a life network reaching for the sky, leaves rustling softly in the breeze, whispering secrets of the forest.

As he prepares for another attempt, Li Wei mentally rehearses the technique that had eluded him. "Control, not just creation. I need to manipulate these growths as if they were extensions of my own body," he muses, grounding himself in the task. "Let's do this with finesse," he resolves, a silent pledge to merge power with precision.

Kneeling, he places his hand upon the earth, the cool, moist soil greeting his touch. He focuses on the flow of qi, a familiar presence that obeys his inner command, weaving through him with a life of its own. Drawing a deep breath, he channels this force, directing it with renewed purpose.

Knowing that harmony between his qi and the earth's energy is key, he refines his approach further. This time, he envisions his qi as a master sculptor, intent on crafting not just random protrusions but precise, deliberate lines of bone from the earth. He focuses deeply, visualising the qi as it intertwines with the soil's essence, a mutual embrace that seeks to create rather than impose.

The energy he channels now feels different. When he releases it, the ground responds with eager anticipation. There's a profound connection, a sense that he's on the cusp of a breakthrough. 

Under his guidance, bone lines emerge once more, their formation more deliberate, carving through the air with an assured grace. 

The soil reacts with an urgency that mirrors the rapid emergence of bamboo shoots, yet on an almost imperceptible scale, akin to mung bean sprouts unfurling. The ground's surface quivers, then ruptures, as bone lines spear through with astonishing speed, slicing the air as they ascend.

They strike the oak with silent might, a faint echo of contact the only testament to their passage. At first glance, the tree stands unmarred, the attack seemingly ineffectual. Yet, on closer inspection, Li Wei notes the precision of the spires' work: thin lines piercing the trunk, passing cleanly through with ease—sharpness embodied.

Each line, barely wider than a strand of silk, stands as evidence of his growing mastery. This balance of power and finesse marks a significant step in his cultivation journey, a melding of strength with control that few can achieve.

Li Wei notices Lu Huan's wide-eyed gaze, locked onto the newly risen forest of bone spires. His eyes reflect a mix of wonder and something deeper, a recognition of witnessing something far beyond the ordinary. The awe sculpting Lu Huan's features is unmistakable; his mouth slightly agape, breathing momentarily forgotten, as if every spire unveils a new mystery.

This admiration, however, is tinged with a palpable restraint. Lu Huan remains utterly still, his usual restless energy stilled by the magnitude of what he sees. There's a respect in his stance, a hesitancy to step closer, as though an invisible boundary holds him back.

His posture holds a tension, a readiness. It's as though he's caught between the urge to move closer and the instinct to maintain his distance. He doesn't dare interrupt, doesn't dare make a sound, fully aware that he's an observer to a moment of true mastery. 

Li Wei retracts the bone spires, their withdrawal as smooth as their release, and approaches the oak for a closer examination. The tree's bark, where the spires made contact, shows small, almost imperceptible entry points. He peers closer, noting how the sap begins to bead at these punctures—a clear, viscous liquid that speaks of life and resilience. The sap seeps slowly, glistening in the light, the tree's natural response to injury.

Around these fine perforations, the wood is undisturbed, the integrity of the tree holding despite the intrusion. The oak's reaction is muted, its vitality unyielding against the precise incisions. This encounter, a quiet dialogue between cultivator and nature, reveals the depth of his technique's refinement. In its stoic endurance, the tree offers silent acknowledgement of his skill, its sap a sign of life persisting, of wounds that will heal and strengthen over time.

"The tree stands, mostly unharmed. But a person...," he muses. "Should one of these spires pierce a person, it's a different matter entirely. Impalement. They wouldn't last long, and any struggle... it would only make it worse."

Li Wei stands at the forest's edge, his focus sharp, his resolve unyielding. Today, he aims to surpass his previous efforts, to weave a network of bone spires so vast and intricate that it would dwarf anything he has summoned before. He centres himself, feeling the pulse of his qi, now a torrent of energy waiting to be harnessed. With a deep, steadying breath, he reaches deep within, tapping into that reservoir of power.

He fixes his gaze on the stalwart oak, the silent witness to his growth. This time, his ambition stretches further; he envisions a field of bone, a labyrinthine expanse born of his will. The qi flows from him, not as a trickle but as a deluge, channelled with a precision honed through relentless practice.

His hands move with purpose, guiding the unseen forces at his command. The earth responds with a tremor, a prelude to the spectacle unfolding. Bone spires begin their ascent from beneath the soil, emerging like spectres at night. They are slender yet unyielding, their surfaces catching the light, casting long, eerie shadows across the ground.


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