Otherworldly Medicine King

Chapter 17: Collapse from Exhaustion (Part Two)

The moment Nolan King finished speaking, a faint reaction crossed Nie Xiuzhu’s face. His brows tightened, just slightly, but it was enough to show the words had landed.

For a heartbeat, the forest felt unnaturally still. No birds called. No branches creaked. Even the leaves seemed reluctant to move.

Then the air shifted.

It was subtle. A ripple. The kind of movement you might miss if you blinked.

And Nie Xiuzhu disappeared.

Not stepped away.

Not blurred.

Gone.

Nolan did not hesitate. His body reacted before thought could catch up. His arm snapped backward in a sharp arc, slicing through empty air. He already knew it would not connect. Nie Xiuzhu was too fast for that. But sometimes a strike is not meant to hit. Sometimes it is meant to buy a breath.

And in a fight like this, a single breath can decide everything.

Inside Nolan, power stirred.

The three core energy centers within him flared open quietly. Not violently, not recklessly. Beneath muscle and bone, hidden channels awakened. Spiritual energy surged through his body in tightly controlled currents. It did not explode outward. It gathered. Focused. Waiting.

A cold prickling sensation crept along his left shoulder blade.

There.

Without turning his head, Nolan pressed two fingers lightly against his side and redirected the energy within him. The current shifted instantly, flowing to the threatened point just as the strike landed.

A sharp impact echoed through the trees.

His boots ground into the soil as his body shifted forward half a step. The force rolled across his back, heavy and punishing. Yet instead of penetrating through muscle and bone, it dispersed outward, spreading like water crashing against a solid barrier.

He inhaled once, steady.

Then he straightened and turned.

A short distance away, Nie Xiuzhu stood frozen, staring down at his own palm.

That strike had not been weak. He knew it. Everyone watching knew it.

The last time they fought, Nolan had looked fragile, barely able to withstand sustained attacks. This time the blow had carried even greater force.

So why had it felt like striking iron?

A dull ache spread through Nie Xiuzhu’s hand. The recoil still buzzed faintly in his fingers. The impact had not sunk in.

It had rebounded.

Around them, the spectators fell silent. Only moments ago, a few had been ready to cheer. Now confusion replaced confidence.

Nolan allowed himself a quiet chuckle.

"You will need more than that."

He did not shout. He did not sneer.

The calmness in his voice cut deeper than mockery would have.

Heat rose in Nie Xiuzhu’s face.

Just minutes earlier he had been certain of victory. Certain he would overwhelm this so-called seventh-grade cultivator and restore his pride. Instead, his palm throbbed while Nolan remained upright, composed, almost relaxed.

The humiliation tightened in his chest.

He attacked again.

This time he did not vanish cleanly. His body blurred into motion, white robes flashing between trees like a streak of lightning.

Another impact struck Nolan’s lower back.

Nolan shifted with it, rotating slightly to redirect the force away from his spine. The energy inside him responded instantly, absorbing and dispersing the blow. He glanced over his shoulder with mild interest.

"Better," he said. "That one had weight."

A few in the crowd exchanged uneasy looks.

Something about this exchange felt wrong.

Nolan was not counterattacking.

He was not dodging.

He was simply standing there.

But what was happening inside him was anything but passive.

He had condensed his spiritual energy into fine internal threads, reinforcing vulnerable points throughout his body. Each vibration within his hidden channels heightened his awareness. The moment he sensed an incoming strike, he redirected power to meet it.

It was effective.

It was dangerous.

And it drained him rapidly.

Most cultivators would exhaust themselves within moments using such a method. It required precision and endurance that few possessed.

If not for the unusual structure of Nolan’s sealed internal channels, which continued feeding him a slow and stubborn stream of energy, he would have collapsed already.

Even now, his reserves were thinning.

But so were his opponent’s.

"Again!" Nie Xiuzhu roared.

He attacked without pause.

The forest rang with repeated impacts. Strike after strike slammed into Nolan’s shoulders, ribs, back, chest. The sound echoed rhythmically through the clearing.

And still Nolan stood.

His breathing remained measured.

His gaze remained clear.

With every hit, violent energy entered his system. Instead of scattering completely, a portion of it was drawn inward and compressed.

Deep within him, something trembled.

Time stretched.

Sweat gathered at Nie Xiuzhu’s temples. His breathing grew heavier, though he tried to conceal it. He struck again. And again.

When he finally stepped back to draw air into his lungs, Nolan was still there.

Unmoved.

"You..." Nie Xiuzhu’s voice faltered.

His palms were red now, slightly swollen.

Nolan tilted his head. "Running out of breath?"

Several spectators shifted uneasily.

A ninth-grade Spirit Gathering cultivator should not be tiring first.

Anger pushed aside reason.

Nie Xiuzhu charged once more.

The rhythm resumed. Impacts echoed through the trees.

Nolan continued speaking lightly between strikes, each comment delivered calmly, almost conversationally.

The forest grew quiet in a way that felt unnatural. No one spoke. No one dared interrupt.

Only days ago, Nolan had appeared thin and weak. Someone who might collapse from a strong gust of wind.

Now he endured dozens, nearly a hundred, full-powered strikes from someone two ranks above him.

And he was still smiling.

Nie Xiuzhu’s breathing became ragged. His ears rang. His arms felt heavier with each motion.

Still he refused to stop.

He could not afford to.

With a hoarse shout, he abandoned speed entirely and drove his palm straight into Nolan’s chest.

The impact was solid and direct.

Nolan did not move.

Inside him, however, chaos surged.

Spiritual energy roared through his channels. The force from each strike was no longer simply dispersed. It was captured, drawn inward, compressed into a tightening core.

Pressure built within his lower abdomen.

Another strike followed.

Then another.

Nie Xiuzhu’s movements slowed visibly. Each swing demanded greater effort. His once precise strikes grew less controlled.

The impacts weakened.

To the crowd, it no longer resembled a proper duel. It looked like someone exhausting himself against an immovable wall.

Nolan’s eyes sharpened.

He felt it clearly now.

The invisible threshold within him, the barrier he had brushed against before but never shattered, trembled under mounting pressure.

Another weakened strike landed.

The barrier cracked.

He felt the fracture spread.

"Enough," Nolan said quietly.

Before Nie Xiuzhu could respond, Nolan reached out and tapped him lightly on the shoulder.

There was no explosion. No violent backlash.

Just a precise release of compressed energy.

Nie Xiuzhu’s strength vanished instantly. His legs gave out and he fell backward onto the ground. His chest rose and fell erratically. Sweat soaked through his robes. His swollen hands trembled uselessly.

His vision blurred.

Nolan crouched beside him, breathing slightly heavier now but still controlled.

"Thank you," he said softly.

This time there was no teasing in his tone.

He meant it.

Inside him, the accumulated pressure peaked.

Then it broke.

The invisible barrier shattered cleanly.

Spiritual energy surged outward before settling into a denser, clearer state.

Eighth-grade Spirit Gathering.

Nie Xiuzhu felt the shift immediately.

So did everyone else.

The subtle refinement of Nolan’s presence. The quiet weight of his aura.

"You broke through," Nie Xiuzhu whispered hoarsely.

Nolan rose slowly. Energy hummed beneath his skin.

"Yes."

Fear crept into Nie Xiuzhu’s expression.

"You used me."

"I needed pressure," Nolan replied calmly.

Silence settled over the clearing.

A cultivator who advanced by enduring punishment.

What kind of body could transform damage into growth?

Nie Xiuzhu tried to rise but his arms shook and failed him. Darkness crept along the edges of his sight.

"You are not normal," he muttered.

Then his head rolled to the side and he lost consciousness.

No one moved.

The forest felt heavier.

The onlookers stared at Nolan differently now. Not with ridicule. Not with dismissal.

With caution.

Perhaps even fear.

Nolan flexed his fingers slowly. The breakthrough had stabilized, but the energy within him still felt restless, like something powerful that had only just awakened.

He could feel eyes on him. Measuring. Reconsidering.

That was fine.

But another thought lingered.

If this level of pressure had been enough to push him forward, what would happen under true life-and-death intensity?

Would his body endure it?

Or would it finally reach its limit?

A faint smile touched his lips.

He looked down at the unconscious figure at his feet.

"This is only the beginning," he murmured.

At the edge of the clearing, partially hidden among the trees, someone stood watching.

Not shocked.

Not confused.

Interested.

Very interested.

Because what Nolan King had displayed was not a technique taught within the sect.

And it was certainly not something expected from a seventh-grade cultivator.

The wind shifted softly through the branches.

Leaves rustled.

Somewhere deeper in the forest, an unfamiliar presence stirred.

And along with it, a quiet killing intent began to gather.