Chapter 23
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 23
Chapter Title: I Don't Like This Sort of Thing
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I don't like this kind of thing.
"O... Ohhh...!! So you're suppressing the flow of sanguineum to regulate the flow of neirus...!
Hyperboreans truly possess insights into the human body several times more advanced than modern medicine!"
...That's actually all because you laid the groundwork to get there.
But even if I said it, he wouldn't understand.
Asclepius, who had apparently been tipped off by Chiron in advance, even brought breakfast for me as I was about to transport the emergency patient and head back to the Colosseum. While eating that breakfast, I gave him a moderate explanation of martial world's acupressure techniques and the twelve meridians as promised.
Asclepius understood every word perfectly and cheered in delight.
"Here, as promised, copies of the basic knowledge on acupressure and acupoints. Read through it slowly, and ask if there's anything you don't get."
"Ooooh!! Th-thank you!"
Asclepius snatched the scroll from my hand like an eagle seizing prey and vanished into his lab, leaving only a message to find him if anything came up.
"...I wonder if that'll be okay."
Whatever works for him is fine, so I left him to cheer and review as he pleased, turning my attention to check on our budding little hero.
I'd reflexively used a bit too much force, so I worried if her head might be injured, but placing my hand on her forehead and examining her, it seemed she'd just fainted from the impact—no damage to her brain or nerves.
"Tch, for such a young one to already show such twisted potential..."
If she didn't know what that spot was, there might be some excuse.
But to knowingly launch such a vicious killing blow at a vital point tied directly to life—that was unforgivable, whether as a martial artist or a warrior.
And she wasn't even raised from childhood as a professional assassin.
Even in the Demonic Cult, when they teach about human vital points and extreme acupoints,
they instruct to avoid striking them unless in real combat, ambushes, or desperate life-or-death moments.
Not out of mere respect for life or honor, but to prevent attacks becoming simplistic and exposing openings by fixating on those points.
"Yet a so-called hero from myth forgets even these basics and rampages like that... Tch tch, so foolish."
Starting from the Baihui point on the crown of her head, then Tianjing, Huagai, Jianyu around the neck and collarbone, and Zan Zhong, Geque on the chest—I checked the points governing blood and qi circulation.
Temporary hyperflow had stiffened her lungs and chest muscles, hindering breath, and since she'd fainted before the excitement faded, the burning sensation lingered, making her qi and blood surge wildly.
"Hm..."
Her legs were swollen in muscles and meridians from overexertion. At least her bones were intact—that was a blessing.
Her arms had been yanked too hard at the end, dislocating her shoulder, which Asclepius had personally reset.
I nudged a few blocked points to free the blood flow and relaxed the muscles, and only then did Atalanta's pained grimace finally ease into peace.
"...Tch, her face is pretty enough, but she's a flower tree fated for the wilderness."
A flower tree needs a lush, sunny forest—ideally among others like itself—to thrive.
But if its roots take hold in barren wasteland,
it's impressive it's grown branches this far.
"No, with bonds and divine ties to nurture her in that wasteland, maybe she was fated to live well after all?"
What's the point if, even blooming crookedly in twisted soil, her insides are all knotted up, suffering alone until death?
"Hm? What did you say?"
.....Oops, not again.
As I muttered to myself, Asclepius poked his head out from behind his lab door.
"Nothing."
"Oh, really? Karyklo told me to have you watch over her until the little porcupine wakes. Take care~"
Luckily, Asclepius seemed too engrossed in the acupoint and acupressure primer I'd copied to have heard.
So once more, I was left alone with the beautiful girl who'd targeted my vitals.
"....."
-Hoo... hoo...
The treatment room echoed only with Atalanta's quiet breaths.
I sat straddling the chair beside her, watching for when she'd wake, and naturally, my eyes drifted to her beauty.
I hadn't noticed earlier when venom blazed in her eyes, but yeah, no wonder those crazy Greeks risked their necks in that footrace for her.
Smooth, healthy skin revealing taut athleticism; soft hair the color of rich chestnut; a fierce allure like a cheetah sprinting across plains wafting from her striking features.
Wow, at this level, even after her vital-point kick, one headbutt finished it—impressive.
As I admired, damn eyes started reading her physiognomy on their own again.
'Parental fortune... oh boy, a boulder blocking the stream from the start.
Fate twisted from the get-go, no wonder the flow's off.
Yet divine fortune bores a hole through that rock, letting it flow crookedly...'
"...Argh, seriously. What is this, thanks to that damn shaman master?"
Among the Twelve Divine Demons, my master Shini Jaegwi Soyeonming excelled especially in physiognomy, divination, barriers, and formations.
The physiognomy and divination he taught sometimes activated on their own, peeking at people's fates and fortunes.
I hadn't invoked any spirit, but just looking at faces would flash their fortunes, pasts, futures—handy for showmanship as Heavenly Demon,
but a pain when it triggered unwanted.
"Feels like a total perv."
I shook my head hard to look away—then a small groan tickled my ear.
"M-Mommy..."
Caught in a nightmare, calling for mom and flailing her hands.
Cold sweat soaked her forehead and neck; tears streamed from her eyes.
I squeezed my eyes shut.
"....Sigh."
Have I really gotten old?
A kid's tears stirring me up like this. Even I knew—and knew that I knew—it didn't suit me at all, but in the end, I reached out.
"Th-there, there... M-Mommy's here."
Kraaaah!!
If my masters saw, they'd roll laughing; the Demonic Cult's Four Kings would spew blood in qi deviation. Top-tier black history across three lives.
I clutched my chest from the self-inflicted inner damage of that mortifying line, and Atalanta clung like a drowning girl with all her might.
"Mommy... Mommy... Haa... Haa... Hyaa!!"
As expected of a hero's sprout—her grip was insanely strong.
And with it, Atalanta began spasming intermittently, gasping for breath.
"Heart demon...!"
Her fine face belied a physiognomy of utterly twisted fate—and sure enough, what grudge did this kid nurse in her tiny heart to summon a heart demon at this age?
A heart demon was resentment's other face—self-made walls and obstacles.
Overcoming it led to the next realm; higher realms meant taller, tougher walls.
In that sense, if Atalanta were a martial artist, even current me could suppress hers.
Mind is qi, qi is body.
Regulate body, qi follows; tame qi, mind settles.
But these damn extraordinary heroes develop mind and body to extremes,
leaving qi near natural true qi state—touch it wrong, and meridians and qi-blood tangle hopelessly.
"Damn, forcing it down now could really kill her later. What to do?"
And the situation worsened.
If she were awake and spasming, a smack to the head would snap her out of it.
But lost in dream-induced heart demon frenzy, no way to intervene.
"Ugh... Hey!! As...!"
As I urgently called for Asclepius,
something anomalous stirred in my body.
The mysterious energy that always faintly pulsed through my qi-blood during Ghostless Heart Art cultivation—
divine yet demonic, bizarre—suddenly surged, gathering toward my right hand gripped by Atalanta, then burrowed into her body.
"Wh-what!?"
Why now aside—her meridians and qi-blood already flipped from stress-spawned heart demon, now external energy invades?
Today's little hero and future running-man deathmatch champ was done for.
"H-Hey, stop!"
My own energies, usually obedient, now rampaged beyond control.
I tried wrenching free, even at cost to my own vitals, but
her hand clung like glue—or rather, fused as one. Through that energy, her qi-blood and meridians felt as vivid as my own.
"...What?"
Like natural true qi in blood flow—no, like oxygen in blood—the bizarre energy coursed her meridians and qi-blood without clash.
Even I'd never seen this in thousands of years of martial tales, wild histories, or predecessor secrets—qi arts of qi arts.
How could an outsider's energy merge and flow with another's without conflict?
"...Maybe?"
As the energy stabilized throughout her body, I tentatively circulated Ghostless Heart Art.
"Oh..."
Thankfully, it obediently flowed along the circuits, shuttling between her and me.
Like a ventilator breathing for an unconscious patient, the circulating energy soothed her twisted muscles and meridians.
"......"
It felt strange.
Deeper guilt of probing every corner of the woman who'd just tried to kill me aside—
my energy flowing through another's body—a woman's—and breathing as one via it... indescribable.
"Ngh... Focus, focus."
She's a healthy teen body, but the contents matter.
I'm past the age to get excited holding a girl's hand like some pubescent kid.
As I muttered and concentrated,
the energy completed a full circuit through her and returned to me.
"...!?"
An nameless child riding a great bear through the woods.
Atalanta, led by Chiron's hand, becoming a proud huntress.
And.
The humiliated, enraged, despairing young hero amid lowly soldiers' insults.
These were clearly Atalanta's dreamborne memories—her heart demon.
I didn't know how, but riding the energy, her wounds and grudges flooded me vividly.
Her towering pride and honor—everything she'd raised and loved—denied in despair.
The vile insults echoing in her ears, the base eyes and tongues rising when she closed them, still tormented her.
Though those soldiers had burned traceless in lightning, their souls shredded by moonlight, leaving not even ghosts—
the scars on her young heart still plagued her.
"....Damn, I hate this kind of thing."