Cultivation Fever 12 Memories

Crow started to explain something to father. I could barely understand a word he was saying.

Why did he call me a monster? Why did the demon call me a monster? At first, it didn't feel too good. Then I remembered all the cultivation stories I had read.

Being called a monster by friends and foes alike was par for the course. Whether it was Luo Zheng, Nie Li, Tang San or Xiao Yan, all were called monsters.

A small sense of pride lifted my chest. I had defied expectations. I had done something unexpected. Maybe I wasn't weak after all.

I wanted to know what was special about what I had done. But I couldn't gain anything meaningful from father and Crow's conversation. Maybe I could learn something from the demon's memories.

These memories were different to the Soul Becoming World book. They weren't as clear, but they felt more like my own.

He was a lesser demon, one of the lowest ranks of infantry. He hadn't even been given a name and had no recollection of his life before this world.

He had been summoned and captured by a demonic cultivation sect. The sect had trapped him in a spiritual torture device; the band that I had put on my arm.

Between long periods of darkness were episodes of blood and fury. The sect seemed to have two uses for him. The first was as a weapon.

The sect attached him to captured cultivators and let him corrupt their minds. Using a few strong memories, he created specialised hallucinations to crush the spirit of his victims.

Once he possessed them, the sect would unleash him as a suicidal attacker. If the vessel died, they would simply collect the band from the battle field and repeat.

His other use was as a tool for young sect members. He was unable to control an infant with an undeveloped mind and a pure heart.

When he couldn't take over their soul in time, his qi would run out. He would then escape and lie dormant in a tattoo, innately converting qi to be compatible with his host.

He drained qi from these conversions, lying in wait for another possession attempt. This method let him recover after failure. His ability to convert qi was also useful for demon cultivators.

The demon sect knew a method to foil his attempts. I saw hundreds of failed attempts, years of agonising waiting. His only respite was the occasional rampage as a suicide weapon.

Resentment built up inside him, until he finally succeeded in converting an unprepared disciple. Enraged by how the sect had treated him, he slaughtered dozens of sect disciples in their sleep.

He managed to escape the sect and spent years drifting the land. He terrorised towns and faded away without being caught.

I took a look at his last memory before he tried to possess me. A hooded figure whirled a thick iron chain in each hand. There was a flicker, then the world spun and cut to black.

Watching my own possession was a surreal experience. The demon knew I desired power and was relieved that my will was easily broken.

He was surprised that I turned on him, but this had happened before. He knew he just had to escape and bide his time to make another attempt.

Then my tendril struck him. His memory was raw and vivid, filled with panic and confusion. He didn't know what had happened. He had never seen someone's soul act like this. He was scared.

I was captured in his turmoil. Reliving this memory sent me into a feverish state. I opened my eyes and gasped for air.

These memories were dangerous. I felt his pain and shared his emotions. I felt indignation and anger at the demon sect. I even felt scared of myself.

Looking at mother and father by my cot calmed me down. Crow was still explaining something to them. Mother looked relieved, and father looked fascinated.

I caught on to the last words of their conversation.

"We should ask her," father said.

"Yes," Crow replied, "I will look for her."

My parents bowed, and Crow left the room. Father followed after him, but Mother stayed with me.

"You're such a trouble…" she said with a smile.

I couldn't quite understand her last word. Trouble what? Troublemaker? After all this commotion, troublemaker was quite apt. Mother stroked my forehead and left with a few parting words.

"Good night baby."

I was alone now. I had been physically and spiritually exhausted many times already, but this was the first time I felt so mentally drained.

Part of me wanted to check on my soul or do some light meditation, but I didn't have the mental energy. Tonight, I just wanted to sleep.

I slept through the night and woke up to a new morning. Mother hadn't come to check on me yet, so I checked my soul.

The shards had joined into a faceted sphere. The lines of red qi glowed orange now. I seemed to be processing the demon's qi into my own golden qi.

The sphere was open at the top like a bowl, filled to the brim. Qi was trickling into the opening, then down the sides.

I wanted to try and cultivate the Soul Becoming World technique, but I had learned from my mistakes. I would only progress when I was in top condition.

For now, I would wait for the demon's qi to fully become my own. Until then, I could do some light meditation so that my overflowing qi wouldn't go to waste.

Now that my soul was fixed, light meditation was more efficient. It took an hour to open up all the new pathways in my arms and to my eyes.

Mother came in and fed me. She seemed cheerful today, and brought me out on the bench as usual. Later in the day, father came to eat his lunch beside me.

He told me the names of each dish and drew their characters on my palm. Seeing both mother and father like this filled me with happiness.

I wondered what they had been thinking yesterday. They weren't surprised at what happened with the demon band until the very end. They must have known how the band worked.

Maybe they thought that the demon couldn't possess my infant mind. So why did they want me to be able to process another person's qi?

I started to make some sense of the situation. When father tried to fill me with qi, it backfired, and I became terribly ill. Our qi must have been incompatible.

Crow put this band on me so that I could convert father's qi. Maybe they planned to supplement my qi while I fixed my soul? I still didn't understand it all.

How did my soul shatter? Was it because I ran out of qi? But I exhausted my qi when cultivating the first page of the Soul Becoming World technique, and I was fine.

The biggest mystery of all was what happened with the demon. The tendril of qi seemed to act on its own will, and the demon was scared of it.

The way my soul absorbed the demon's qi was strange too. The demon qi that fused my soul together was also becoming my own. Was this the power of the tattoo, or something else?

I had many questions, but no-one to answer them. For now, I just had to continue cultivating with caution.

In the late evening, after mother took me to bed, I checked on my soul. It s.h.i.+mmered in a pure golden light without a trace of demonic qi.

It was time to cultivate.