When I woke up, I found myself in Martial Idiot Clinic. I spent the next month there, focusing on recovering from my wounds. It wouldn’t have taken that long under normal circumstances. However, my injuries were so severe that I needed a month to fully recover. The healers who worked at Martial Idiot Clinic were surprised that I managed to survive at all. According to one of them, I should have been dead several times over.

  The thought that I was that close to death, and only survived due to luck and my family’s intervention, filled me with anger and determination. Anger at my own weakness and determination to grow stronger. If I had been a bit more powerful, I wouldn’t have been such a hindrance to Big Sis Sidra when she fought the Devouring Demon. If nothing else, I could’ve escaped so she could’ve focused on the fight without worrying about me.

  Several people came to visit me during my month-long stay at Martial Idiot Clinic. The first ones to arrive were Big Sis Estelle, Big Sis Astra, and Cultiv-Big Brother Raphael. They had already heard the truth from Big Sis Sidra, so I hadn’t needed to explain what happened to them. My two sisters fussed over me because of my wounds, and also congratulated me on my good fortune.

  A pill that would help me form my Golden Core would save me years, maybe even decades, of preparation. Not only that, but our mother would personally train me after I recovered from my injuries. I grew excited at the former, and less so at the latter. However, I kept this to myself. I feared that if I complained out loud, and it reached my mother’s ears, she would punish me for it.

  I also took this opportunity to give Big Brother Black Sand’s message to Big Sis Astra. She grimaced when she saw this, but accepted the message and thanked me for delivering it. There was a story there, one I wanted to hear, but I kept my questions to myself. It was clear that Big Sis Astra’s relationship with her father’s side of the family was complicated. She would tell me about it in her own time. I wouldn’t pry.

  In addition to my family, the friends I made in the Dawn and Dusk Sect also came by to visit me. I met with Cultivator Aneira and the two minions, Cultivator Trevor and Cultivator Oliver, from Celestial Warrior Hall. They asked me about my journey and the events that occurred at East Mesa City. While I kept some things private, I told them everything else.

  Second Master also came by to visit. He brought several medicines with him, which he gave to me. I tried to refuse, since many of the medicines were rare and precious, but he insisted. He said that as my second master, it was his responsibility to help prepare me for any trouble I faced in the future. These medicines could save my life. In the end, I accepted his goodwill. After that, we spent some time chatting with one another.

  Senior Sister Zenia, my four-armed drinking buddy, also came by to visit. She brought her two underlings, Senior Brother Kayden and Senior Sister Eliana, along with her. They gifted me a few bottles of decent, but not great, spirit wine. Afterwards, they started drinking and caught me up on any news that I might have missed during my absence. Unfortunately, I couldn’t drink while I was recovering, so I could only watch on with envy as they enjoyed themselves. In the end, the healers had to kick them out when they grew too rowdy.

  Ellen and Elliot lived with me during my stay at Martial Idiot Clinic. I told them they didn’t need to, since the healers here treated me well, but they dismissed my words. Ellen said that someone needed to stay by my side to tend to my needs. Elliot said that I was vulnerable and needed someone to protect me while I recovered. In the end, I gave up. It wasn’t like I hated their company, and having familiar faces around eased my mind.

  Willow visited me a few times. However, she didn’t have that much spare time since she also qualified for the Rising Heroes Tournament and needed to prepare for it. Otherwise, she would’ve visited me every day. In fact, I suspected that she would’ve followed Ellen and Elliot’s example and stayed at Martial Idiot Clinic too.

  I also suspected that her master, Elder Alexia, kept her busy on purpose. I knew that Elder Alexia didn’t like me. Rather, she didn’t like the idea of me and Willow being together.

  Clarissa Wind Dance didn’t come to visit me. I heard from others that she was in seclusion and no one knew when she would emerge. This disappointed me, since I missed her company and wished to see her again. However, I pushed my disappointment aside. Training and cultivation were important. I didn’t want her to neglect either for my sake.

  I saw plenty of Cultivator Harlow. As a disciple of Rainbow Healer Hall, she worked at Martial Idiot Clinic. In fact, she volunteered to be my primary caretaker during the course of my stay. This meant that I saw her everyday, which she outright stated was her goal.

  “Close contact builds intimacy.” She said with a smirk on her face. “Before this month is up, I’ll make sure you’re in love with me!” She cackled. “That bloody brute had you to herself for months. I can’t let her beat me.”

  I found her enthusiasm so endearing, and flattering, that I almost hated to burst her bubble. However, I figured it was better to be honest and tell her the truth rather than keep it from her. I feared she might poison me otherwise.

  When I told Cultivator Harlow that Willow and I were already together, she reacted as I expected her to: poorly. Her reaction worsened when I told her about the rule I put in place, where my current wives had to unanimously agree before I took in a new one. That set her off.

  For several days afterwards, Cultivator Harlow alternated between sorrow and anger. I tried my best to soothe her wounded emotions (and pride). Not only was she the healer in charge of my recovery, but she was also a dear friend of mine. Even if we didn’t become lovers, I still cherished her and valued her. It took time, and half of the medicines that Second Master gave me, but my efforts bore fruit in the end.

  Despite falling behind Willow, in her words, Cultivator Harlow continued with her plan to get me to fall in love with her. As the recipient of all her attention, I did nothing to dissuade her. After all, she stirred my demonic nature. That meant I had the potential to love her, and she had the potential to love me. Something could blossom between us, if we gave it a chance.

  It worked, though not as much as Cultivator Harlow wished. Love couldn’t be rushed. It happened at its own pace. Even so, the two of us became closer, both as friends and as fellow cultivators. We even became more informal towards each other and stopped using honorifics with one another.

  Harlow shared some of her knowledge of medicine, and I shared some of my insights into alchemy. The two disciplines were intertwined, so proficiency in one helped with the other.

  Harlow also took this opportunity to gain Ellen’s favor. Not only was the latter one of my wives, but she was the head wife. Ellen’s opinion carried more weight, which Harlow realized. To my relief, the two of them got along well enough. They shared a lot in common, including their expertise when it came to poison.

  In fact, by the time my stay at Martial Idiot Clinic ended, they started brewing poisons together. Their enthusiasm disturbed me and I made a mental note to never anger either of them too much. I doubted either of them would kill me, but they could definitely make my life a lot more painful.

  All in all, my stay at Martial Idiot Clinic proved fruitful. Not only did I make a full recovery, but I learned a lot more about medicine and even advanced my cultivation by a significant degree. Due to Flame Fiend Peak’s special properties, receiving injuries while in its vicinity helped demonic cultivators refine their bodies. Since I was a dual refiner, this affected my cultivation overall rather than just my physical refinement.

  True to her word, after I recovered from all of my injuries and left Martial Idiot Clinic, my mother came by to pick me up. The Rising Heroes Tournament was a few months away, and my mother wanted me to spend that time in secluded training with her. However, I asked for a day’s grace before we began.

  “Why?” My mother asked, her eyes narrowed.

  The weight of her gaze made my soul tremble. That wasn’t hyperbole. My mother was powerful enough to kill weaker cultivators, myself included, with her aura alone. A single look from her could destroy lesser cultivators in body and soul.

  “A… Friend of mine recently joined the sect and I wanted to congratulate her before going into secluded training.” I said.

  I braced myself for a scolding. After all, I wanted to delay my training in order to pursue a woman. However, to my surprise, my mother didn’t reprimand me. Instead, she appeared intrigued.

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  “Oh?” My mother asked. “Is she a future daughter-in-law of mine?”

  This baffled me, but I decided not to question it.

  “Maybe.” I said. “Things are still nebulous between us.”

  My mother nodded.

  “Very well,” she said, “You have one day. I’ll come get you tomorrow at dawn, wherever you are, whether you’re ready or not.”

  After getting myself a day’s grace, I headed off to find Cultivator Jasmine. However, first I made a quick stop at the treasure hall located near Mt. Dawn and Dusk. After all, it wouldn’t do to visit without bringing a gift.

  Unlike many of the halls that made up the Dawn and Dusk Sect, Restless Grave Hall didn’t occupy a mountain with special and unique properties, or even a sacred mountain. Instead, it made its home in a valley called Valley of the Misty Grave located on the outskirts of the Dawn and Dusk Mountains. This was to take advantage of the natural environment of the Whispering Hills province.

  The tall, rocky hills littered the province, forming countless valleys and vales. Strong winds constantly blew through the area. Together, this created an effect where it sounded like there were whispering voices in the wind. That was how the Whispering Hills province received its name.

  Most of the time, these whispering voices were natural phenomena. However, on occasion, these voices belonged to ghosts and evil spirits. They lured mortals and ignorant cultivators in order to ambush them and drain them of their vitality, their life force. Disciples of Restless Grave Hall, who specialized in dealing with the undead, often hunted down these ghosts in order to capture and refine them. From what I heard, the Valley of the Misty Grave was filled with ghost qi, making it the perfect place to nurture these ghosts, as well as other undead creatures.

  It was cool out when I made my way towards the Valley of the Misty Grave, riding atop my flying sword. It was clear out when I started my journey. However, as I drew closer to my destination, the sky grew cloudy and the area around me became foggy, though not enough to impede my senses.

  The Valley of the Misty Grave was an oval-shaped depression, surrounded on all sides by tall, steep cliffs. There was only one entrance. Arrays and restrictions surrounded the valley, preventing me from flying right in. With no other choice, I flew towards the entrance.

  As I did so, the fog around me grew thicker and thicker until I could barely see in front of me, even with my sharp senses. The fog even impeded my spirit sense, though not to a debilitating degree. A sliver of unease slithered up my spine, though I ignored it. It became cold enough that I could see my own breath. The smell of graveyard dirt, mold, and decay filled the air.

  A massive stone gate stood at the entrance to the Valley of the Misty Grave. It was as tall as the stone cliffs that surrounded the valley. The stone gates surface depicted images of ghosts, skeletons, and other undead creatures. These images were so life-like that I found them settling.

  Several stone buildings occupied the area in front of the stone gate, resembling a small town. With my spirit sense, I noticed people going about their business. All of them appeared to be outer disciples, ones hoping to become inner disciples of Restless Grave Hall.

  I headed towards the stone gate. As I approached, two presences flew towards me and stopped several dozen feet away. I couldn’t see them with my eyes. However, with my spirit sense, I saw that they were a pair of early Foundation Establishment cultivators, one male and one female, both wearing the uniform of Restless Gray Hall: black robes trimmed with gray.

  “Halt!” The female disciple said in a sharp voice.

  “Who dares approach the Valley of the Misty Grave?” The male disciple demanded.

  I raised an eyebrow at that, but decided to play along. I gave them a martial salute.

  “Greetings, fellow disciples,” I said, speaking in a polite tone, but not a deferential one, “I am a disciple of Flame Fiend Hall.”

  The two disciples glanced at each other.

  “Speak,” the male disciple said in a sharp tone, “What business does a disciple of Flame Fiend Hall have with our Restless Grave Hall?”

  “Are you here to pick a fight?” The female disciple asked, a hint of scorn in her voice.

  What a rude and unfriendly bunch. Perhaps this was because of the techniques and arts they practiced, or maybe Restless Grave Hall attracted these sorts of people. Or maybe these two were just unpleasant people. Cultivator Thurstan, one of the people who oversaw the entrance exam that I participated in, was also a disciple of Restless Grave Hall and he had been a cheerful fellow.

  However, despite how unpleasant I found these two, this was their home and I was a guest. I couldn’t afford to offend either of them. Well, with my status I could, but I didn’t want to deal with the aftermath.

  “I am here to meet with a friend of mine who recently joined Restless Grave Hall.” I said. “Cultivator Jasmine.”

  “Oh?” The female disciple said, a hint of mockery in her voice. “You’re a friend of Junior Sister Jasmine?”

  “I see.” The male disciple said, contempt in his voice. “I expected something like this to happen, sooner or later.”

  It took me a moment to realize what they were hinting at. Anger sparked to life in my heart. It was clear that these two looked down upon Cultivator Jasmine because of her past as a disciple of Flowering Blossom Palace. I clenched my fists, but otherwise restrained myself. For now. However, I would remember these two.

  “May I pass?” I asked, keeping my tone neutral in order to hide my anger.

  The female disciple smiled.

  “Of course.” She said.

  “However,” the male disciple said, “All outsiders who visit the Valley of the Misty Grave must pass a test before being allowed entry.”

  I narrowed my eyes at them. They were lying, I was certain of it. However, if I tried to barge my way through, I might end up getting banned from the Valley of Misty Grave. Worst of all, I might cause trouble for Cultivator Jasmine, which I wanted to avoid. In the end, I decided to play along for now. If they tried anything too out of line, I could always go to Big Sis Sidra and tattle on them.

  “Very well,” I said, “What kind of test?”

  The two glanced at each other and smirked.

  “Follow us.” The male disciple said.

  The two of them turned around and flew towards the stone gate. I followed them. When we drew close enough, I saw that there was a small wooden door at the base of the stone gate, which I assumed existed for ease of access. That led me to wonder why the stone gate existed in the first place. The two disciples from Restless Grave Hall opened the small door and the three of us entered.

  As soon as we crossed the threshold and entered the Valley of the Misty Grave, the temperature around us plummeted. It was so cold that it even affected me despite my cultivation base. I circulated my qi to counteract the worst of the cold, though some of it still lingered. However, despite the chill, there were no traces of ice or frost.

  The fog here was even thicker, and my spirit sense was limited to half of its usual range. The stench of death and decay was thick and cloying, to the point that I could taste it. An abundance of ghost qi and lingering resentment permeated the area. The former nipped at me, almost like a living being, as if trying to steal away my warmth and vitality. While it could harm me, as long as I remained vigilant, I would be fine.

  I hated this place. As a being of Fire, the Valley of the Misty Grave was anathema to me. If it hadn’t been for Cultivator Jasmine, I would’ve turned and walked away. In fact, I wouldn’t have come here in the first place.

  The two disciples from Restless Grave Hall watched me with anticipation on their faces. However, I maintained a composed expression and refrained from reacting. This disappointed them.

  “Let’s go.” The male disciple said in a cross voice.

  “We have to go on foot from here.” The female disciple said. “Flying is forbidden in the Valley of the Misty Grave.”

  That seemed like the truth. I sensed a restriction that prevented flight.

  “Lead on.” I said.

  The three of us made our way deeper into the valley. The ground was hard packed dirt, barren and bereft of life. I saw no grass, no trees, no plants at all. This truly was a place of death. Sounds were muted here, including our own footsteps. It felt like we were the only people here. I didn’t sense anyone else in the vicinity.

  As we walked, I wondered how the disciples of Restless Grave Hall managed to navigate their way through this place. The fog here limited all the senses, including spirit sense, and I didn’t see any landmarks. Perhaps they learned a technique that allowed them to perceive things that others couldn’t, or maybe they had magic tools that helped them. That made sense.

  After what felt like hours, but was likely less than one, I heard something in the distance. At first it was indistinct, but became clearer over time. It sounded like a woman weeping. As we drew closer, it became obvious that the weeping was our destination.

  Soon, one of the steep cliffs that marked the boundaries of the valley came within range of my spirit sense. Located at the base of the cliff was a cave entrance. The weeping came from deep within the cave. To my surprise, something blocked my spirit sense from probing into the cave itself. I assumed it was some kind of restriction.

  After a while, the three of us reached the cave entrance. While I couldn’t use my spirit sense to peer inside, my eyes worked just fine. The fog that permeated the Valley of the Misty Grave didn’t intrude into the cave. It wasn’t big. I would say it was closer to an alcove than a proper cave. However, located just a few feet away from the entrance, was a stone staircase that led deep beneath the earth.

  “Here we are.” The male disciple said.

  The female disciple gestured to the stone staircase.

  “There is a ghost imprisoned inside the chamber at the bottom of those stairs.” She said. “Your test is to deal with the ghost. However, you must go in alone. We’ll remain out here.”

  I gave them both skeptical looks, but decided to play along anyway. Part of it was to avoid causing trouble for Cultivator Jasmine. Part of it was curiosity. I had never seen a ghost before, and I figured I might as well take advantage of this opportunity.

  Without another word, I entered the cave and headed down the stairs. I thought I heard a snicker come from behind me. However, I ignored it and continued on my way.

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  This chapter was edited by Radriel7