Primordial Villain with a Slave Harem

Chapter 802: Heaven-Smiting Finger [Bonus]

”Stop the drama, pipsqueak. Youʼre still alive. In fact, youʼre barely even hurting. I held back.”

”Held back?! My head almost snapped clean off my neck! My brain rattled! I saw my ancestors holding a ʼWelcome Homeʼ banner!” she wailed, pointing an accusing finger at him with great talent for dramatics.

”Youʼll live,” he said with a dismissive shrug of his shoulders. ”But thanks for confirming it hit hard enough to knock wisdom into you. Now… What happens after I open all my twelve meridians?”

She huffed, pouted, and shuffled on the ground to face him fully, still shielding her forehead with one sleeve like it was a wound through which she could bleed out. ”Ugh! I told you to aim for eight meridians, Uncle.”

”Another order of Heaven-Smiting Finger coming right up.”

”W-wait!” She cried with alarm, moving further away from him. Seeing he wasnʼt giving chase, Feng Jiaiʼs rapidly beating heart calmed. ”Fine. Iʼll tell you. Once your meridians are open and your qi flows properly, your dantian starts condensing all that loose energy into a solid core. Like compressing mist into a crystal.”

”And thatʼs a good thing?”

”Itʼs the thing,” she said, bringing her nose higher up in the air. ”Itʼs the point where you stop being a wandering bucket and become a real cultivator. A core doesnʼt just hold qi—it makes it. You become your own furnace. Thatʼs why the next stage is called Core Formation. Those who reach it are considered great cultivators, combatants highly sought after by any organization. Only a few people manage to get that far in their cultivation journeys.”

Quinlan nodded, though inwardly he was wondering if her tiny body could even store enough qi to light a candle. But he wisely kept that thought to himself.

Just as she opened her mouth to continue, she winced and rubbed her forehead again.

”…Still hurts?” he asked, fighting a smirk—and losing.

Feng Jiai glared at him with murderous eyes. ”Uncle, once I become strong enough, Iʼll beat you up.”

Quinlan chuckled, ”You know, you remind me of my Ayame. She has black hair like you, too, and her body is rather petite as well. Though, of course, sheʼs a fully grown adult.”

The young girlʼs eyes widened in utter horror at his words. ”W-what do you mean like me?! Iʼm still a kid! I still have time to grow up and become a well-endowed, plump lady, sought after by all men who drool at her heavenly figureʼs mere sight!”

”… Itʼs good to dream, but you should be realistic.”

”!!” A low growl threatened Quinlan, to which he raised his hands in mock surrender. It seemed heʼd stumbled upon a rather touchy subject.

After a few more minutes, he stood, ready to depart.

Quinlan dusted off his robes and strolled toward the fallen corpse of Zhang. The arrogant young masterʼs headless body lay sprawled in the dirt like discarded garbage, blood soaking into the soil. Feng Jiai instinctively turned her head away with a quiet wince, finding the sight too gruesome.

He picked up the boyʼs thin, blue longsword from beside the corpse and sheathed it into its scabbard. It was steel forged, nothing overly fancy for an entitled young master, but reliable and sturdy. The grip was well-worn, suggesting Zhang had trained with it extensively. Quinlan gave it a few test swings. ”Decent enough. Better than nothing.”

He then turned and casually tossed the sword to Feng Jiai, who caught it with a surprised grunt. ”Here. Your exʼs sword. Yours for the taking. Itʼs too lightweight for my preferences, and Iʼve already got a blade.”

Quinlan then smiled at her, ”Keep it as a memento of this wonderful young master—may his entitled spirit live on in the form of something actually useful.”

Feng scoffed, tucking the blade under her arm like one might a particularly annoying broom. ”Hmph. He always did like waving this thing around to show off. ʼLook at me, my swordʼs so blue and shiny!ʼ”

Still, her eyes gleamed with an unsettling mix of vindication and sadistic delight as she unsheathed the blade just an inch, admiring the glint of steel. ”Still, Iʼll put it to better use than he ever did.”

She gave the weapon a few light swings, testing the weight, then grinned.

”Iʼll call it… Zhangʼs Overcompensation.”

Quinlan raised a brow. ”Subtle.”

Feng only grinned wider in response.

Quinlan then knelt by the body and began rummaging through the bloodied robes with clinical precision, utterly unfazed. He ignored the congealed blood, the twisted neck stump, and even the sound of flies feasting on the remains. ꭆÀŊȮВÈṨ

Reaching into the manʼs inner robe, he pulled out a small cloth pouch. It was leather-bound and fastened with a brass clasp. Inside, a modest jingle sounded as he loosened it open.

The bag contained several round copper coins with square holes punched through their centers. Feng walked up to him and began narrating with sparkly eyes, happy that Zhang had gifted them such a welcome farewell gift.

”Those copper ones are xuán coins. Those two silvery ones are called liáng, worth a hundred xuán each. The last one, jade-colored coin carved with the character for ”Spirit,” is called lìng. Lìng is the currency used by high-level cultivators as it can help their growth. Absorbing it is like spending hours gathering qi. Liáng and xuán are mostly used to pay for everyday items, but for us in our penniless and homeless state, thatʼs a big gain as well.”

Quinlan nodded and pocketed the coins without fanfare, then tilted his head at the young girl. ”Seems the medicine you slapped on my back was the most valuable thing he had. Is that right?”

Feng puffed her cheeks. ”Of course it was! It has four rare herbs, including Fire Marrow Root and Soothing Lavender Grass! Thatʼs elite-grade field medicine! And I spent it on the Uncle who followed my kindness by absorbing my sole item of value!”

He blinked, not expecting the medicine to be so highly regarded. ”Impressive.”

”Apology accepted,” she scoffed, arms crossed.

”…” Quinlan ignored her antics, and the pair soon began their journey to Vulkaris.