Dragging the massive, dead weight of the Level 6 wild pig across the jagged mountain shale turned every step into an exercise in pure agony.
After a few grueling kilometers, Airan and Lux had reached their absolute physical limit.
Airan’s right arm—his primary limb for combat and talisman handling—hung at an unnatural angle with a fractured bone, and two of his lower ribs were cracked, sending a sharp stab of pain through his chest with every ragged breath.
Beside him, Lux was in even worse shape, limping heavily with a broken back-left leg and a deep, ugly laceration across his abdomen.
The low-grade healing pills they had swallowed back on the ridge had successfully stanched the bleeding and closed the worst of the tears, but the extreme, throbbing pain remained unabated.
The internal damage was severe; even with medicinal aid, it would take at least two weeks of forced rest for them to return to peak condition.
Cultivation was completely out of the question while their meridians were strained and aching.
Sweating and gasping for air, Airan stared down at the massive carcass, wondering how on earth they were going to haul it all the way back to Zone C without drawing unwanted attention or collapsing on the road. Follow the newest chapters on novelping dot com.
If only I could just store it, he thought bitterly.
Common cultivation lore dictated an absolute rule: standard spatial storage bags could only hold inanimate, dead objects.
Living creatures, whether beasts or humans, would instantly disrupt the internal spatial equilibrium and tear the bag apart.
But standing there with a broken body, Airan figured he had nothing to lose.
On a whim, he unhooked the middle-grade spatial storage bag he usually kept handy—the very same upgraded storage pouch he had recently purchased for Max to securely transport large sums of spirit stones without drawing prying eyes at the gates.
He pressed the pouch against the dead pig’s hide and willed it inward.
The pig was gone, safely stored inside.
Relieved of the physical weight, Airan and Lux limped the rest of the way into the city on foot, leaning on each other for support.
Once inside, Airan retrieved the carcass and sold the materials off through their usual discreet channels, though he was met with a harsh reminder of the black market’s reality: despite the beast’s size and danger, worn hides and damaged meat only netted them a meager 10 spirit stones.
Back in the safety of the Zone C courtyard, the next two days dragged by in a haze of grueling stillness.
Airan and Lux lay immobilized on their mats, unable to cultivate, waiting out the slow, painful process of cellular repair as their bodies mended stitch by stitch.
Author’s Note: Thanks for reading Chapter 21!
Airan’s journey from a penniless herb collector to a spirit distiller starts here.