Tales Of The Exiled Immortal

CHAPTER 9

Rain soon arrived at his small apartment inside the sect.

He pushed open the creaky wooden door, and a familiar wave of dust and stale air greeted him. The room was dim, the window barely allowing any light in, and the floor was cluttered with scrolls, broken bowls, and torn fabric. Still, he didn't spare it a second glance.

None of that mattered now.

Now was the time to turn this broken, mocked body into something terrifying.

Dragging an enormous iron bath bowl from the toilet, Rain placed it near the center of the room. He moved with sharp, deliberate efficiency. Then, he lit a fire beneath the bowl, boiling a pot of water until the steam rose in thick clouds, curling into the ceiling like ghostly snakes.

He stared at it.

“This is just literally cooking myself alive,” he muttered, but his voice held no humor.

Without hesitation, he picked up the large bag of dried herbs he’d purchased and dumped it into the boiling water. A thick hiss followed. Then came the small pouch, the one Jasmine had handed him. The second the herbs hit the surface, the air changed.

The scent was sharp, rich, and ancient. A deep medicinal aroma flooded the room, as if the very air had turned into something sacred and potent.

The water churned, shifting from clear to murky green, then deeper into a dark golden hue. Leaves and roots floated to the surface, some crackling from the heat.

Rain waited.

He crouched beside the bowl and began to scoop out the soaked herbs into another container, leaving behind only the dense medicinal liquid. The surface shimmered slightly, and the warmth rolling off it became almost suffocating.

“This should do,” he said quietly.

He stripped his clothes and stood naked over the bowl, his body pale, marked by faint bruises and thin scars. Then he stepped in.

The moment his skin touched the water, it felt like knives were slicing into him.

A blinding pain surged across every nerve, his entire body turning red in seconds. Steam clung to his face. His muscles spasmed violently under the surface, but he didn’t scream, didn’t flinch.

He just closed his eyes.

This was the beginning and this was the easy part.

Gritting his teeth, Rain focused inward, slowly circulating his Qi.

The warmth in the water wasn’t ordinary heat, it was force, pressure, power designed to purge every impurity clogging his meridians. He directed the energy carefully, dragging the liquid essence into his body.

Slowly, painfully, his meridians began to clear.

He felt it, the small channels in his body, once blocked and useless, now opening like a series of dam gates snapping free. Qi began to flow. Not just flow, but devour. His body, which once rejected even basic spiritual energy, now drank greedily, hungrily like a black hole.

The water’s color slowly faded.

What had once been rich gold was now turning transparent again, the medicinal power transferred completely into his body.

When the last ripple of Qi passed through his chest, Rain opened his eyes and he stepped out of the bath.

Steam trailed from his skin, his muscles ached, his body hummed with residual heat, but something had shifted inside him.

He exhaled, he had broken through directly into the late stage of the Qi Gathering Realm.

A small, almost imperceptible smile tugged at his lips. But it vanished just as fast.

This wasn’t the goal.

He dressed and sat cross-legged on the straw bed, letting his body cool. The next step… was suicide to most cultivators but to him, it was salvation.

The real transformation would begin now.

Switching cultivation techniques wasn’t just dangerous, it was madness. The first part, unclogging the meridians was child's play compared to what came next.

Now, he had to cripple his Dantian.

Destroy the very core of his cultivation and reforge it then destroy it again and again.

Nine times.

Each time, it would break and rebuild stronger. Until finally, it would become unshatterable. No one would ever be able to cripple his cultivation again. Not with poison, not with spiritual force, not even with heaven-grade relics.

And if, somehow, someone managed to crush it… he would just rebuild it again and ascend.

That was the terror and beauty of the technique but there was a reason no one dared attempt it.

The pain was unimaginable.

Each destruction brought him closer to becoming a cripple for life. If he hesitated even a second, if he blacked out from the agony, his journey would end here. Forever.

Still, Rain didn’t falter.

He had endured a thousand years in the Abyss, torment that shattered his soul and burned his bones. Compared to that, this was nothing.

Taking a breath, he raised his right hand.

Qi gathered at his fingertips then, without pause, he jabbed it deep into his abdomen.

“Splurt!”

Blood erupted from his lips.

His fingers shattered through his core like glass, and a horrible crunch echoed in his ears. His vision spun. His entire body trembled violently, his organs twitching under the sheer internal chaos.

His Dantian shattered and for the first time in a very long while…

Rain felt pain so sharp, so searing, it almost made him forget who he was.

Agony tore through his core, slicing his nerves. His entire frame trembled violently, sweat pouring like rain as his vision darkened at the edges. Every breath he took came with fire. His skin was ice, but his veins burned. His chest heaved and his limbs went numb.

He was dying or at least, it felt that way.

Rain's lips twitched in a crooked smile, bitter and tight. "Damn… I underestimated it," he croaked.

This wasn’t like the pain he’d endured in the Abyss. That had been constant, slow, merciless. This… this was different. This was immediate, overwhelming, like his soul was being ripped from his spine and roasted alive. His Dantian had shattered completely, but he didn’t pass out.

Didn’t beg or scream.

Instead, he pushed himself upright, trembling hands bracing against the wooden floor, blood still dripping down his chin.

He closed his eyes. Inhaled and focused.

The moment he began circulating his Qi again, something shifted.

A soft warmth spread through his ruined core, weaving through his body, numbing the sharp edges of pain. It wasn’t comfort, it was control. He was regaining control.

Qi flooded his limbs. The shattered Dantian began to piece itself together, slowly, painfully, with cracks still glowing.

This was the technique’s madness… and its genius.

Ordinary cultivators feared losing their Dantian, feared the very thought of being crippled. But he? He was rebuilding his from scratch and not just once.

Nine times.

Nine times he would tear it down. Nine times he would rise again.

When he was done, his foundation would be absolute. His Dantian indestructible.

And if anyone dared cripple him in the future… he’d smile, spit in their face, and rebuild.

The room was silent but charged. Qi buzzed around him, answering his body’s pull, flooding into him faster than before. His cultivation base had just reached a terrifying new stage.

Five hours passed in a blink.

When he opened his eyes again, his skin was no longer pale. His eyes glowed faintly under the candlelight, like coals waiting to ignite. A thin layer of steam rose from his skin.

A smile ghosted across his face, but there was no softness in it. Just cold satisfaction and dread.

"That was one," he muttered, dragging a palm down his face. "Only eight more to go."

His jaw clenched. Muscles twitched involuntarily.

“I need to get stronger,” he said again, this time not as a whisper but a promise.

Because if this was what it took to claw his way back to the top, then so be it.

No one was going to hand him power, no one was going to pity him into greatness, he had to take it bit by bit. Pain by pain. Step by brutal step.

Rain exhaled slowly and raised his hand again, his fingers were shaking, but he didn’t hesitate.

No second thoughts. No breaks. No mercy.

He gathered Qi at the tips again, letting it pulse violently between his knuckles, then stabbed forward, slamming his fingers into the very core he had just rebuilt.

"Splurt!"

Another mouthful of blood sprayed across the floor as the pain returned, worse, heavier, and sharper. It felt like being gutted from the inside out.

He gritted his teeth and endured because pain… pain was nothing new to him but weakness... that, he refused to live with.