Chapter Thirty-One: Metamorphosis II

After a few plaintive cries, Leng Bingyan had no choice but to obediently finish his lunch, then return to the little hut to continue hauling logs. “Move… I’ll move them…” He hoisted a thick log in his arms, feeling deeply aggrieved. “Why did these trees have to grow so big for no reason?” But then, thinking more carefully, “Only by enduring the hardest hardships can one rise above others.” The more suffering he endured now, the greater the reward would be in the future. Leng Bingyan’s eyes suddenly lit up, and a surge of strength coursed through his body, making it much easier for him to drag the logs along. He gradually disappeared into the distance, leaving a deep track on the hard, yellow earth behind him.

Mo Wuxie appeared at his back, watching Leng Bingyan’s thin, small frame laboring with all his might. He nodded in satisfaction, then slowly faded from sight.

As the sun set behind the mountains, the valley sky was reduced to a narrow slit. The fiery red sun vanished from view much earlier than elsewhere. Leng Bingyan looked up at the darkening sky, thinking he was almost at the mountaintop. He threw all his strength into dragging the log, and after a bout of aching fatigue, finally reached his destination.

“Hah—” Placing the two logs together, Leng Bingyan could endure no longer and sprawled on his back in exhaustion. “Hey, boy, time to go back.” He felt something rough brush across his face. Reluctantly, he opened his eyes. “Grandpa, I’m… exhausted, just let me rest…” As he finished speaking, faint breaths slipped from his small mouth—he had already fallen asleep.

Mo Wuxie shook his head helplessly, bent down, picked Bingyan up, and with a flicker, vanished from the spot.

Back at the little hut, Mo Wuxie set up the wooden tub again and slowly heated it with a small fire. This time, however, the water had been replaced by a dark, murky concoction.

This medicinal brew was specially prepared by Mo Wuxie, intended specifically for those like Leng Bingyan who had overexerted themselves physically. Its restorative effects were powerful.

For anyone, such intense physical exertion would require time to recover. For the unusually frail Leng Bingyan, dragging logs weighing over a hundred pounds in a single day would have been enough to kill him from exhaustion. Without the aid of this medicine for rapid recovery, he would surely be unable to train the next day—he might not even be able to get out of bed.

Yet, despite its strong restorative effects, this medicine came with equally potent side effects…

Mo Wuxie stripped Leng Bingyan bare and tossed him into the tub.

“Aaah—” A piercing scream echoed through the valley. Deep in a delightful dream, the exhausted Leng Bingyan was suddenly jolted awake by a sharp pain that forced a shout from his lips.

Mo Wuxie had already covered his ears, as if he’d anticipated this exact reaction and taken precautions.

The pain was like countless ants biting and tearing at his skin, leaving not a single spot unscathed. What was happening? Leng Bingyan awoke, remembering he had fallen asleep from exhaustion—why was he now in the tub? And what was this dark concoction? He could guess it was Grandfather Mo’s doing.

But he had no chance to confront him. The pain surged in an instant, swallowing him whole. Countless ants gnawed at his skin, as if to tear it open, then invaded deeper, surging through his body. The agony radiated from outside to within. Leng Bingyan’s face twisted, beads of sweat forming on his brow.

After a minute, his meridians began to spasm, feeling as if they would shatter. With a final cry, Leng Bingyan slumped against the tub’s edge and fainted.

“Can’t endure any longer? Well, it’s already impressive he lasted this long,” Mo Wuxie murmured, first surprised, then chuckling to himself.

He lifted the darkened Leng Bingyan out of the tub, supported him with one hand, and with a flick of the other, gathered the moisture from the air into a large orb. The sphere of water slowly enveloped Bingyan, washing away all the black residue and revealing his fair skin underneath.

“Hey, boy, wake up,” Mo Wuxie called, tapping Bingyan’s cheek to rouse him.

“Mmm… That hurt so much just now.” Those were Bingyan’s first words upon waking. He stood up from Mo Wuxie’s arms and wrapped himself in the coat handed to him—he was no exhibitionist.

“What was that just now?”

“A medicine for quick physical recovery,” Mo Wuxie replied with a smile. “Well? Effective, wasn’t it?”

“Effective? It was torture—unbearably painful.” He pouted in grievance. But then he noticed an indescribable sense of comfort throughout his body, and he seemed much stronger. He thought he could easily manage another log now.

“Why is that?”

Mo Wuxie nodded, clearly pleased with Bingyan’s reaction. “You feel powerful now, don’t you? That’s the effect of my special concoction. Starting tomorrow, carry two logs at once, increasing the load a little each day. That way, you’ll keep pushing your limits and complete the task I’ve set you all the sooner. Of course, the medicinal treatment is indispensable—once a day.”

“Once a day?” Bingyan wasn’t opposed to increasing the load, but at the mention of daily medicinal treatments, his voice trembled. “To endure that inhuman pain every day—oh heavens, just kill me now.”

But in the end, under Grandpa Mo’s iron hand, he submitted…

After supper, Bingyan found a large stone in a clearing near the hut. Sitting there, bathed in moonlight, was the perfect way to cleanse himself.

The bright moon hung high, its silvery beams pouring over the earth. Bingyan felt a wave of comfort so intense he almost wanted to moan. His body began to change slowly—his hair grew longer, taking on a faint blue sheen; his chest swelled gently, forming two small mounds like those of an eleven or twelve-year-old girl just beginning to develop; his legs, arms, and waist all grew slenderer…

Leng Bingyan kept his eyes closed, but he sensed every change clearly. Yet he was no longer startled as he had been the first time; instead, he sat at ease, accepting it. The silvery light bathed her—now a girl—and Leng Bingyan became like a magnet, radiating an immense field that drew in every strand of moonlight around her.

The gentle, feminine energy of the moon entered her body, and under the effect of the Plume Violet Qi, was continually transformed into violet aura, little by little merging with her flesh.

As the transformation and fusion continued, energy circulated throughout her body, cycling along the meridian paths over and over. Time slipped by, and Leng Bingyan felt utterly at ease.

The aura swirling around her surged like a wild tornado, with Bingyan at its center, spinning ceaselessly…

Unnoticed, dawn arrived.

At sunrise, Leng Bingyan awoke from her meditation, stretched languidly, and her body had reverted to that of a boy. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so well; perhaps he never had. The aches of the previous night were forgotten, and now he looked lively and almost extraordinary.

He shook his head, marveling at the newfound strength within, his mood soaring.

Beside him, crystal-clear dew adorned green leaves—a brand new day had begun. Leng Bingyan hurried back to the hut, filled his stomach with a simple meal, and began the new day’s labor—or rather, training.

Today, his goal was to carry two logs at a time.