An Jiu glared at Mó Sīguī with bloodshot eyes, forcing out words through gritted teeth: “You’ll find out soon enough.”
Realizing the danger, Mó Sīguī quickly adopted a serious tone. “That won’t be necessary. Rest for now while I read.”
He sat in a chair behind An Jiu, lamp in hand, and resumed studying the medical texts. The Kònghè Army coveted Elder Qǐ’s medical knowledge, and these manuscripts would inevitably be seized sooner or later. While Mó Sīguī might not memorize other books in one reading, he had a photographic memory for medical texts. He needed to process them quickly.
Immersing himself in the study also distracted him from An Jiu’s pained twitches.
Rebuilding one’s body was a critical process that couldn’t afford any mistakes, so Mó Sīguī couldn’t leave her side. Even when he had to step out, he chose safer moments and hurried back.
Sand trickled through the hourglass as the two remained in seclusion, neither eating nor drinking.
Five hours later, Mó Sīguī turned to check on An Jiu. Her head rested limply on the edge of the tub, her face swollen and deathly pale with a bluish tinge. Her original features were barely recognizable.
Mó Sīguī removed the iron weight and, wrapping his arm in soft snakeskin, reached into the water to lift her onto the couch.
Where his arm touched her, An Jiu felt excruciating pain. Her vision went black.
“It’s time to change the medicine. You can’t pass out now – you must stay awake, understand?” Mó Sīguī said gravely.
An Jiu managed a weak groan.
Mó Sīguī gave her some salt water and, after a quarter-hour, transferred some qi to help sustain her. Only then did he begin cutting away the fabric on her body. “Bear with it,” he warned.
“Hiss!” As the cloth was gently pulled away, An Jiu felt as if her very flesh was being torn off.
Mó Sīguī’s brow furrowed as his movements became even swifter.
Even for someone as pain-tolerant as An Jiu, the intense agony made her whole body tremble. Tears flowed uncontrollably, mixing with large drops of sweat.
Mó Sīguī avoided looking at her face, treating her body as if it were a corpse. His actions were decisive and increasingly rapid.
As the bandages fell away, they revealed her swollen body. The skin and flesh were dark and bruised. Mó Sīguī’s experience told him these tissues were approaching necrosis. The torture her body had endured to reach this state was unimaginable.
Theoretically, this method of tempering the body would have some effect on rebuilding the meridians, otherwise, Mó Sīguī wouldn’t have suggested she endure such suffering. This was also his first time rebuilding an external cultivator’s body. The current state exceeded his expectations.
Looking at her body, he couldn’t fathom the level of pain she must be experiencing.
Mó Sīguī took a deep breath and steeled himself to begin cleaning away the remnants of medicine. When he reached her fingers, he paused.
One of An Jiu’s right fingers was broken, likely snapped by her hand in an attempt to distract from the pain.
Mó Sīguī silently reset the bone before applying another medicinal ointment to her entire body.
After all this, An Jiu barely had the strength to open her eyes. She allowed Mó Sīguī to lower her back into the water.
The cool sensation soothed her burning pain.
An Jiu felt her body relax completely. She quickly fell into a deep sleep, wishing she could stay asleep forever. However, after an unknown amount of time, an unbearable itching sensation forced her awake.
Pain could be endured, but this maddening itch made her want to claw her flesh off. When she tried to move, she realized her body was limp and powerless.
“Rapid tissue regeneration inevitably causes intense itching. To prevent you from damaging your body, I added a muscle relaxant to the medicinal bath,” Mó Sīguī’s voice came from behind her.
The itch seemed to emanate from her very bone marrow. In An Jiu’s current extremely agitated state, if she had even an ounce of strength, she might have killed Mó Sīguī before taking her own life.
Mó Sīguī moved to face her. He had initially planned to administer a sedative, but seeing her mental state, he changed his mind. “First, calm yourself and regulate your emotions. You indeed show signs of mental instability. If I’m not mistaken, you’ve had these symptoms for a long time.”
Mó Sīguī lightly slapped her cheeks. “If you can understand me, start regulating your breathing now! Don’t miss this opportunity.”
The slaps made the itching slightly more bearable. An Jiu regained a hint of clarity and immediately began adjusting her breathing and mental state.
However, the maddening itch made it impossible to achieve true calm. In frustration, she directed her spiritual energy to every nerve ending and pore – if she couldn’t escape it, she would face it head-on!
With her spiritual energy covering her body, her sensitivity increased a hundredfold. The itching sensation became so intense that she wished for the world’s destruction.
Yet, at the extreme of itching, a tingling pain emerged, which was slightly more tolerable than before.
Seeing An Jiu’s expression gradually relax, Mó Sīguī also sighed in relief.
Exhausted from battling her body’s torment, An Jiu fell into a deep sleep that lasted nearly twenty days.
While An Jiu slept comfortably, Mó Sīguī was nearly worn out.
“Mó Sīguī?” An Jiu woke to a sour smell emanating from the tub.
Mó Sīguī, dozing in his chair, was startled awake by her voice. The medical text in his hand slipped to the floor.
“You’re awake?” He picked up the book, stood to stretch, and then approached to check under the bandage on her neck.
He held his breath until he saw the fresh pink skin underneath. His face lit up with excitement. “Excellent, excellent.”
Smiling, he removed the tub’s cover. “Can you stand? Go to the adjacent bathhouse to wash up.”
An Jiu stood and looked down at the tub. A layer of black substances floated on the surface – whether medicine or her body’s waste, she couldn’t tell.
Covered in bandages and deathly pale, she climbed out of the tub like a vengeful ghost from a swamp. Each step left a dark footprint as she made her way to the bathhouse, supporting herself against the wall.
After scrubbing herself for half an hour, she finally felt clean.
An Jiu’s skin was now a tender pink. Some areas were wrinkled, either from the bandages or other reasons, like a newborn infant’s. Even her old clothes felt abrasive against her sensitive skin.
As she emerged from the bathhouse, she saw Mó Sīguī standing in the corridor, holding a lantern.
He had lost a lot of weight, with dark circles under his eyes. Yet, with his flowing sleeves and windswept hair, he carried an air of otherworldly elegance.
“How do you feel?” he asked.
An Jiu flexed her wrist. “Very light. More agile, too.”