Otherworldly Medicine King

Chapter 3: Blood Awakens, Needles Sing

Nolan King lay still on the narrow bed, barely breathing. His chest rose and fell in shallow movements, slow and controlled, as if even drawing too much air might cause something inside him to break. From the outside, he looked peaceful. Fragile, perhaps. Like someone resting after a long illness.

He was not asleep.

Inside his mind, chaos reigned.

Thoughts clashed and overlapped, loud and relentless, crashing against one another like waves striking jagged stone. He had replayed everything again and again, tracing the same memories, asking the same questions.

Still nothing.

No clear answer.

No certainty.

Maybe it all started with the lightning.

That moment from his previous life refused to fade. The blinding flash. The searing pain. The instant when death tore his consciousness apart and scattered it into darkness. Something had gone wrong at that exact moment. Something unnatural.

The power bound to his soul, the strange game that had followed him for years, had broken. Not gently. Not cleanly. It had failed in a violent, unpredictable way.

And in that failure, something impossible had happened.

Something crossed over with him.

Something that did not belong in this world.

A seed.

A foreign presence that should never have existed here.

Yet it had followed him. Clung to his soul through the void. When he awakened in this new world, trapped inside a weak and broken body, the seed was already there, buried deep within him as if it had always intended to be.

Now it rested at the core of his being, embedded beyond reach.

Trying to remove it in his current state was pointless. Laughable, even. He did not have the strength. He did not have the means.

Worrying about it would not help.

If it was a blessing, then fearing it was useless.

If it was a curse, then running would change nothing.

He repeated those words in his mind until his breathing slowed. Until his racing heart settled into a steady rhythm. Little by little, the storm inside him quieted.

Then he closed his eyes.

He turned his awareness inward.

What he found was grim, but it was exactly what he expected.

Every pathway inside his body was blocked.

Not narrowed. Not strained.

Blocked.

Completely.

Thick, greenish matter filled the channels where energy was meant to flow freely. It was dense and sticky, packed so tightly that nothing could pass through. It reminded him of hardened sludge clogging a neglected drain. On top of that was a faint, pale residue that coated everything like a thin layer of frost. It looked harmless at first glance, but it clung stubbornly, refusing to fade.

Nolan recognized it instantly.

Residue from spiritual medicines.

More than a decade’s worth.

Countless elixirs, tonics, and rare remedies had been poured into his body over the years. None of them had been properly absorbed. None had truly healed him. Instead, they had piled up, compressing again and again until his internal circulation had collapsed entirely.

This world prided itself on its magical traditions. Its techniques were powerful. Its warriors were strong. But its understanding of the human body was incomplete.

People here relied on inherited knowledge and personal experience. They followed traditions passed down through generations, rarely questioning them. There was no true unified theory of how energy moved through the body. No detailed understanding of deeper internal structures.

Nolan remembered things differently from his previous life. He knew that systems needed foundations. Without them, even the strongest methods could fail.

His father had noticed something was wrong long ago.

Nolan Qingyang was no fool. With strength that placed him among the elite, he had personally examined his son. He had tried to help. He had even invited one of the most powerful healers available to assist.

Every attempt ended the same way.

Whenever a portion of the blockage was broken, the remaining energy would simply shift and reconnect. It flowed back together as if it were alive, sealing itself and erasing all progress.

To everyone else, it was an unsolvable mystery.

In a world overflowing with magical energy, illness was rare. Most ailments could be cured through training and refinement alone. Something that resisted even the strongest healers was considered hopeless.

A slow death.

That was why people whispered behind his back. Why they looked at him with pity. Why they said he would not live past eighteen.

Just like his brother.

If his condition had been caused by reckless training or flawed techniques, Nolan could have accepted it. The pain, the weakness, the endless exhaustion would have made sense.

But he had been sick since birth.

Long before he ever trained.

So why?

And more importantly, what was the true cause?

His older brother had suffered the same way.

He had grown weaker with each passing year, enduring the same pain, the same symptoms. And he had died at eighteen.

Two brothers.

The same condition.

That was not coincidence.

Could it be inherited?

Their father was strong to an almost frightening degree. Age had barely touched him. His vitality was overwhelming.

That meant the cause could only come from their mother.

And yet Nolan knew almost nothing about her.

Years ago, his father had returned from his travels carrying two children. One was a small boy barely old enough to walk. The other was a newborn wrapped in cloth.

Their mother, he had said, had died during childbirth.

From the very beginning, Nolan had been weaker than his brother. Smaller. Frailer. Always lagging behind.

By all logic, the fact that he had lived as long as his brother had was nothing short of a miracle.

So the blocked pathways were not the cause.

They were the result.

The real problem lay deeper.

Nolan let go of his analysis.

Instead of thinking, he acted.

He began cultivating.

The familiar technique unfolded naturally in his mind. It was simple, steady, and reliable. He had practiced it for years. Inside his core, three energy nodes responded, pulsing softly in a slow, ancient rhythm.

Energy drifted in from the world around him.

Thin strands at first. Fragile. Weak.

At his level, absorption was terrible. Only a small fraction of the energy he drew in actually remained. The rest scattered before it could be refined.

Less than a fifth stayed.

Anyone else would have given up.

Nolan had not.

He had endured this for ten years.

Time passed without him noticing. His awareness sank deeper, calm and focused. He observed every trace of energy as it entered his body, struggled through the blockages, weakened, and vanished.

Footsteps approached.

He recognized them instantly.

Huamei.

She had probably brought food again.

He did not open his eyes.

The steps paused near the bed, hesitant, then retreated quietly. She was careful, always afraid of disturbing him. She checked on him several times after that, lingering near the doorway before leaving again.

Then it happened.

A tiny wisp of refined energy finally formed inside one of the empty nodes.

And everything changed.

A strange sensation spread through his blood. It was subtle, almost imperceptible. Not painful. Not violent. Just present.

The refined energy dissolved instantly, flowing into his blocked channels and disappearing.

The force was incredibly faint.

Anyone else would have missed it.

Nolan did not.

His eyes flew open.

“I found it,” he said aloud, unable to hide his excitement. “It’s in the blood. That’s where it starts.”

A startled cry came from the doorway.

Huamei had been sneaking back in and nearly dropped the bowl she was holding.

When she realized he was looking straight at her, her face flushed red.

“U Uncle, are you done?” she asked nervously. “The porridge went cold. I will get you another bowl.”

He laughed, genuinely amused.

“No need. This one is fine.”

It was still warm.

Hunger hit him suddenly, sharp and intense. He ate quickly, faster than he should have. It felt like his body was trying to make up for years of deprivation all at once.

Huamei watched quietly, smiling despite her worry.

“Slow down,” she said softly. “There is more if you want it.”

When he finished, warmth spread through his limbs. It reached places that had felt cold and lifeless for as long as he could remember.

He set the bowl aside.

“How much money do we have left?” he asked casually.

She hesitated, twisting her fingers together.

“Forty three gold coins,” she said. “Is that enough?”

“It is,” he replied after a moment’s thought. “Twenty will be enough. I will buy what I need tomorrow.”

“Twenty?” Her eyes widened.

They had spent fortunes before. All for nothing.

He smiled. “Trust me.”

She nodded, unconvinced but hopeful. Something about his calm confidence made her heart beat faster.

“I will get you more food,” she said quickly and left.

The room grew quiet.

Only then did Nolan’s expression turn serious.

Right before he sensed the change in his blood, the foreign seed inside him had reacted.

It had trembled.

In that brief moment, his perception had sharpened dramatically. That was how he had noticed the truth.

The seed and his blood were connected.

Night fell.

Elsewhere in the estate, anger shook the main hall.

A furious voice echoed through the room as three attendants knelt trembling on the floor.

They had failed.

Their master paced back and forth, rage simmering beneath his calm exterior. He was arrogant, but not foolish. Certain lines could not be crossed openly.

If Nolan King had died, everything would have been simple.

But he had not.

When news arrived that a valuable medicine would be returned, the man laughed coldly.

“Let him return it,” he said.

In a few days, Nolan King would come begging.

And then things would truly begin.

Back in his room, candlelight flickered over nine golden needles laid out on dark cloth.

Huamei watched nervously.

“Will this really work?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“They look dangerous.”

“They will not kill me.”

After she left, Nolan removed his clothes and sat upright on the bed. His body was thin, almost skeletal, but his eyes were steady.

One needle went in.

Then another.

When the final needle pierced a vital point near his chest, a soft hum filled the room.

All nine needles trembled together.

Awakened.