Chapter 25: Broken Knees, Breaking Script
The Wu Clan was restless.The city was sharpening knives.And behind a sealed wooden door, Wu Yuan cultivated—unaware.
Evening lanterns had begun to gutter low along the inner walkways, throwing long gold shadows across wet stone. Every footstep in the estate sounded like someone trying not to be heard.
Outside that door, Wu Xiao had worn a track into the courtyard flagstones. Her hands clenched so tightly inside her sleeves that her nails bit flesh. She had been told not to disturb him. Closed‑door cultivation meant silence unless the estate itself burned.
She had obeyed—at first. But news spread like fire through dry pines. Rumor after rumor crashed through the Wu Clan gates, each heavier than the last. Wu Lu… the duel… the insults… the injury. Her ears burned with every whisper she caught from passing servants.
Young Master doesn't know. He doesn't know a thing!
Her chest ached. Anger churned in her gut like boiling tar.
And then—The faint glow of the door rune dimmed.Wood groaned as a hidden mechanism slid loose.The door opened with a low sigh.
Wu Yuan stepped out. His breath was steady, his hair damp with sweat that smelled faintly of lightning herbs. His face was calm—until a blur of movement slammed against him.
"Xiao'er?" His arms rose instinctively.
She hit his chest and locked both arms around his waist, small body trembling, face buried against him as sobs wracked her thin frame.
Wu Yuan froze. Wu Xiao… crying? Impossible. Everyone in the estate knew she was his personal attendant. No one dared bully her—not openly. So why—
He closed the door behind them, led her across the courtyard, and settled beside her beneath the silver spirit tree, where moonlight spilled softly over their shoulders.
"Xiao'er," he said quietly, "if you keep crying, I'll have to start guessing who to break first. Speak. What happened?"
Her breath hitched. She tried once, failed, and tried again. Words spilled in fractured bursts, dragged out by fury more than grief.
"Y‑Young Master… Jiang Clan juniors… they came to the duel ring—said they were here to challenge you! You were still in seclusion, so they shouted and cursed and called the Wu Clan a turtle clan. They laughed, Young Master—said Wu Clan shells are coffins, that coffins are for pigs like us. No one went. Then they insulted again, worse—cowards, unfit to rule the city—so Wu Lu went. Alone."
Her hands curled into fists so tight the knuckles blanched."He beat one! He beat that Jiang dog—put him flat in the dust! But then—then—another came. A Level Three—just Level Three—but he broke Wu Lu's knee with one strike! And now Wu Lu's in the medical hall and won't wake and—and they're saying you hid because you only dare fight weaklings and—"
By now, the taverns were fat with rumors: Wu Clan cowards, Jiang Clan kings. Coins clinked over tomorrow's bets.
She bit down hard, teeth clicking, tears hot in her eyes."I want to smash their heads until they squeal like pigs."
Wu Yuan listened without interrupting.
When she finished, he exhaled slowly.
Inside, something cold shifted.
Shock rippled through him. This wasn't the timing. In the stories I remember, petty clan duels were stepping stones for the hero—years from now. Villains strutted safely until the protagonist crawled out of obscurity to cut them down.But the "hero" of this world is still a child… and yet the blades are already out.My choices moved the board. The world is adjusting.Good. Let it rewrite the script. I won't play the villain who ripens just in time to be harvested. I'll write my own linework in lightning.
Aloud, his voice was soft—but it rang like tempered steel.
"As long as I'm here," Wu Yuan said, "no one tramples those who stand beside me. Not Jiang. Not anyone."
Wu Xiao wiped her eyes with her sleeve, lower lip trembling, and nodded. He rose in one smooth motion.
"Come," he said. "We're going to the medical hall."
As they stepped out of the courtyard, Wu Yuan felt it at once—an oppressive weight pressed against his skin. The estate was thick with incense and silence, every whisper coiled taut and edged sharp enough to flay pride as well as flesh.
They moved through shadowed side passages. The main hall throbbed with the footsteps of elders moving in and out, faces drawn tight by anger and wounded pride. Servants bowed as Wu Yuan passed, but more than that—they shrank from his presence, as if his very shadow might burn.
Every corner now hummed with restless gossip. The whispers no longer merely spread news—each word was a blade being honed in secret, and Wu Yuan could feel the cold edge of blame and unease sharpening with every step. Wu Lu's fall was no longer a rumor. It was a warning—and the estate itself bristled beneath its weight.
"—all because of him—"
"If he'd shown up, Wu Lu wouldn't have gone alone—"
"Or if he never fought Jiang to start—"
Another voice hissed back, "Shut it! Young Master Yuan was cultivating—do you blame someone for training?"
"He hides when real talent comes—"
Wu Xiao spun, ready to lash out, but Wu Yuan caught her sleeve between two fingers.
"It doesn't matter," he murmured. "The weak wield tongues when they have no fists. Let them tire their mouths."
He didn't look back, but he logged the voices. Later, he'd see whether tongues could be converted into wagers.
Her jaw trembled, then set hard. She lowered her hand.
As they walked, Wu Yuan called up the familiar overlay with a thought.
Status
Name: Wu Yuan
Age: 8
Clan: Wu Clan
Realm: Level 11 – Body Tempering Realm
Stats
Strength: 80
Endurance: 80
Agility: 80
Defense: 80
Progressions
Lightning Root – In Progress
Lightning Body – In Progress
Lightning Soul – In Progress
Lightning Spirit – In Progress
Lightning Chakra Progress: 85%
SP: 134
Spark Essence Pills: 14 remaining.
Techniques– Aura Veil (conceals true cultivation)– Heaven‑Eating Pulse Conduction– Thunderflash Step– Lightning Punch
He grimaced.
Used twelve Spark Essence Pills just to push into Level 11. Ten more grinding toward Level 12 threshold—and I'm still halfway. To finish clean? Ten more at least. Then the wall: Level 12 breakthrough will double cost. Call it forty pills total if I want to breakthrough successfully. At twenty SP each… eight hundred SP.
He had never seen that number in his life. So I either crawl for years… or I turn chaos into currency.
Good. Let Jiang stir the city. Let them gather. Let them wager. Let them watch.
The medical hall doors loomed ahead.
The doors loomed ahead—carved with old warding sigils, now faintly glowing under dim spirit lamps.
Even before they entered, the smell hit: crushed herbs, blood iron, resinous poultices. Inside, blue-tinted lamps floated in formation above three occupied beds. The central one held Wu Lu.
Wu Yuan stopped at the threshold.
The boy lay half‑upright under an array canopy. His right leg was trapped in a rigid splint frame layered with bamboo ribs and iron supports. Violet bruising crept like ink stains across his thigh. Spirit talismans pulsed faintly along meridians; below the knee, a milky resin paste sealed a joint that no longer resembled one.
A senior healer approached, bowing low. "Young Master Yuan."
"Report," Wu Yuan said. "How bad?"
The healer didn't soften it. "Impact fracture across the lower femur. Knee joint crushed—splinters across the patella, ligament tearing. Internal shock to organs, but stabilizing. He woke briefly, lost consciousness again when knee joint. We've locked swelling and started bone repair lines."
"What's the recovery—worst case? And can we avoid permanent flaw?"
"With common medicines?" The healer looked grim. "He'll stand in two months. Walk in three. Train properly in half a year—if he's lucky. But even then, a flaw will remain. His bone tempering cycle was just beginning—the break tore the pattern."
Wu Xiao's fingers curled white.
Wu Yuan's eyes narrowed. "How do we shorten recovery—and avoid lingering flaws?"
The healer hesitated, then lowered his voice. "There is a pill—Whitebone Renewal Pill. Stimulates rapid regeneration of fractured or missing bone segments by infusing pure life essence into skeletal tissue. Unlike most bone-healing pills, it promotes clean marrow restoration, reducing the risk of deformities. Three days and he walks. A month and he's whole enough to resume body forging."
"Don't we have that in Wu Clan?"
A small, pained smile. "Although Wu Clan might be able to gather ingredients for this but to concoct the pill is the real challenge. I am ashamed to say the Wu Clan lacks refiners at that grade."
"Where can it be refined?"
"In Wu City? Two chances only." He lifted two fingers. "The public Medicine Pavilion—if they happen to have stock, which they almost never do. Or the Mu Clan—wood‑aligned alchemists. They can refine… but only under contract or debt. And even they fail as often as they succeed. I am not the right person to advise how to secure either path. You would need… higher authority."
Wu Yuan inclined his head. "You've told me enough. Thank you."
The healer bowed again. "Young Master."
Wu Yuan stepped to the bedside. Wu Lu's breathing was shallow but steady. Bruises cut dark tracks across his ribs; dried blood still clung at one lip. He looked smaller lying down. Younger.
We've fought dozens of times, Wu Yuan thought. He'd stood when the clan hesitated. Faced humiliation alone because Wu Yuan wasn't there to do it himself. Credit claimed. Debt acknowledged.
Heat flared behind his sternum; he let it pass.
"Rest," he said quietly. "Don't fall behind too far. I'm not slowing for you."
For a long moment, Wu Yuan let the guilt simmer. But under it, something new took root—a promise hard as tempered steel.
They want the Wu Clan to kneel. All right. But not while I have breath left. This will not happen again. I'll pay the price for both of us.
He turned to leave.
A robed messenger waited just outside the ward doors, breath quick, fists clasped.
"Young Master Wu Yuan," he said, bowing. "The Clan Head has been informed that you've left closed cultivation. He requests your presence in the main hall. At once."
Wu Yuan glanced to Wu Xiao. "Return to the courtyard. Wait for me."
"But—"
"That's an order."
She bit her lip, then nodded and withdrew.
Wu Yuan faced the messenger. "Lead."
As they walked, he let one last thought slip free—a shard of cold humor cutting through the rising storm.
They called me a coward behind a door. Good. Rumors fatten crowds. Crowds breed wagers. Wagers feed SP. I need eight hundred—and a Whitebone Pill. Jiang just opened my vault.
Let them gamble. Let the city watch. If they want thunder, I'll make every rumor pay for it.