Chapter 11: Is This… A Friend?

With a loud bang, the dormitory door was kicked open once more. Long Hai entered with a frown, his voice cold and sharp. “Who’s making that noise?”

Chen Lei stumbled towards Long Hai like a frightened beast.

A look of disgust flashed across Long Hai’s face as he lashed out with a whip, knocking Chen Lei to the ground. “Worthless!” he spat, then flipped Chen Lei over with his foot.

Chen Lei’s clothes were in tatters, but his head and face were unharmed. However, the purplish-black marks on his throat were clearly abnormal.

Uninterested in further examination, Long Hai raised his voice. “Who did this?”

Qian Ye sat up from his bed, his voice calm. “I did.”

Long Hai narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing Qian Ye from head to toe. “Alright, kid, you’ve got guts! Guards! Take him out, give him ten lashes, and hang him until morning!”

Qian Ye didn’t resist or show fear, simply following the guards out.

Before long, the familiar sound of leather cracking against flesh could be heard outside the window. Each crack brought back dark memories for the children, many of whom looked visibly uncomfortable.

But there was no sound from Qian Ye, not even a whimper or a moan. It was as if the guards were lashing a piece of wood.

Long Hai had left, but Chen Lei suddenly collapsed to the ground, unable to stand. The lash had been severe, exacerbating his previous injuries. He wouldn’t recover in less than a month.

The other children looked at him with scorn and disdain. It was clear now that the seemingly frail Qian Ye was the true force to be reckoned with. Chen Lei had tried to assert dominance but chose the wrong target, and the consequences were dire.

“Sleep well!” the top-ranked child in the class said, his words heavy with meaning.

The next morning, when Qian Ye was finally lowered, he was so weak he could barely stand. Yet, he managed to join the morning run. Though it took him three times as long to complete the run, he still finished, albeit at the expense of most of his breakfast time.

By nightfall, Qian Ye had only completed half of his daily training, guaranteeing a last-place finish. But the entire dorm seemed to have collectively forgotten about it, and no one mentioned it.

Usually, any child who received ten lashes would stay in bed for days. No one would push themselves as Qian Ye did. Each movement brought excruciating pain, and those who had received such punishment would typically give up entirely.

As the night deepened, the children began to settle into their beds.

Suddenly, Chen Lei fell to his knees in front of Qian Ye, clutching his leg, sobbing and begging for mercy.

Qian Ye glanced at him, then slowly and firmly pushed him away. He climbed back into his bed and lay down.

All the children eventually fell asleep, except Chen Lei. He stood there, clenching and unclenching his fists, his face a mask of struggle.

Both Qian Ye and Chen Lei were injured. Although it would be easy to kill Qian Ye now, Chen Lei feared the consequences. Perhaps there was another, deeper fear he didn’t want to acknowledge: could he defeat Qian Ye in his current state?

This week, as expected, Qian Ye’s training performance dropped to the bottom half. But on the way to the training room, the top-ranked child in the class walked up to him and handed over a piece of “Zhu Yan Xue.”

“I have four pieces, but I don’t need them all,” he said.

As the top student, he had always enjoyed special privileges.

Qian Ye looked at him in surprise, then accepted the piece graciously. “My name is Qian Ye,” he said, extending his hand.

The boy smiled. “I’m Song Zining.”

The two boys shook hands, reacquainting themselves. They had known each other’s names for a while.

For the rest of the week, Song Zining gave Qian Ye a piece of “Zhu Yan Xue” every day, until Qian Ye returned to the top half of the list and earned his own supply.

Aside from that, Song Zining and Qian Ye had little interaction, barely speaking a few words to each other.

In the tenth month, Qian Ye finally managed to cultivate three waves of origin power, beginning his full assault on the node barrier. Two months earlier, Song Zining had already ignited his origin power node.

Qian Ye discovered that with three waves of origin power, the recoil was twice as strong as the first wave, causing intense pain with each rebound. If this trend continued, by the tenth wave, the pain would be comparable to the whipping. Few could endure such agony.

No wonder so few could master Bing Fa Jue. Not only did it harm the body, but the pain of cultivation was unbearable for most. For Qian Ye, there was an additional complication: each wave crossing his chest caused his old wounds to ache.

At eleven months, Qian Ye finally broke through the barrier!

As the barrier shattered, his origin power flooded into the node, which seemed to draw in the surrounding power like a whale, doubling the speed of its increase.

When the origin power reached its peak, a tiny light appeared deep within the node, flickering like a candle flame in the wind. This was the sign of the node being ignited.

Qian Ye had now become a Level 1 warrior, distinguished from the common folk.

After confirming Qian Ye’s node was ignited, the instructors added a new item to his rations: a deep brown pill said to be effective in healing internal injuries, an aid in cultivating Bing Fa Jue.

Over the next month, Qian Ye slowed his cultivation, controlling the flow of origin power, repeatedly warming and tempering the node, making the fusion of internal and external powers more natural and complete.

Though he slowed his pace, his origin power continued to grow, and so did his physical strength. Despite being just a child under ten, he could lift fifty kilograms with one hand.

After Qian Ye, other children began to ignite their nodes. By Zhang Jing’s deadline, most of the sixty remaining children had ignited their nodes, but three failed. After the final exam, Qian Ye never saw them again.

Thus, the second year of the camp passed without notice. Qian Ye’s class was again filled with a hundred students.

In the third year, Qian Ye turned ten.

From this year onward, he would officially begin his assault on the second origin power node, the one in his chest. This node, among the nine, was very important, second only to the one on the forehead. In many cultivation methods, it was called the “Qi Sea,” directly determining the depth of one’s future origin power.

Having completed the warming process of the first node, Qian Ye calmed his mind and began his assault on the second node.

The surging origin power formed waves, rushing towards the chest node. But as the power surged through the wound area, an indescribable, excruciating pain seized him!

The pain was beyond human endurance! Qian Ye screamed and collapsed, convulsing, blood foaming at his mouth. He quickly lost consciousness.

The guards rushed into Qian Ye’s training room upon hearing the scream. Seeing his condition, they hesitated, then quickly carried him away.

Moments later, in the room where biology classes were held, Qian Ye lay naked on a metal teaching table. The camp had no proper medical facilities.

Only Zhang Jing and Long Hai were present, with Shadows blocking others from entering.

Shen Tu moved methodically, as if demonstrating in class, making three tiny incisions on Qian Ye’s chest scar with various tools.

After a moment, the old man stopped and neatly arranged his tools. He didn’t look at the unconscious Qian Ye but instead turned to Zhang Jing and Long Hai. “You have been his instructors for so long; you must have noticed…”

Long Hai’s face turned slightly unnatural.

Zhang Jing, however, smiled seductively and said nonchalantly, “Isn’t it just origin power plundering?”

Long Hai’s face darkened, and Shen Tu’s lips twitched. Even Zhang Jing’s smile was somewhat forced.

At that moment, the classroom door burst open, and a man strode in, saying, “Yes, it is origin power plundering.” Shadows followed behind him.

The others turned in surprise, recognizing the newcomer.

“Director Sun!”

The man was middle-aged, slightly short, and stocky, with an ordinary, unremarkable face. This was the camp’s director, Sun Ni, wearing a faded military uniform without rank insignia.

Sun Ni approached Qian Ye, running his hand over the chest scar. A faint glow of origin power emanated from his hand, then he withdrew it, sighing. “Indeed, this child is truly unfortunate.”

Zhang Jing noticed something. “This is one of General Lin’s people. Is there a problem?”

“Do you think so?” Sun Ni asked calmly.

Long Hai, who had handled the initial transfer, spoke first. “He was sent by General Lin, but there were no special instructions, not even to keep him alive. It seems he was just an orphan General Lin picked up on a whim. If his background is problematic…”

Shen Tu’s rough voice grew even graver, with a chilling undertone. “Those capable of such deeds are from a select few. Why would they leave a living witness? It’s quite strange.”

Sun Ni smiled meaningfully, speaking slowly. “I know of this, and so do others. In other words, those who should know, already do.”