Chapter Fifty-Five: The Last Vitality Pill

Zhao Dafu was the most talkative and lively among them, often boasting about the wealth his family possessed in the county town.

Yet none took it seriously.

After all, everyone here shared the same misery, and no matter how much better one’s fortune seemed, they were now locked together in this prison cell, uncertain of where they would be shipped off to, perhaps never to see their homeland again in this lifetime.

Zhao Dafu’s boasting was nothing more than nostalgia; it couldn’t even be called pride. Moreover, he had never practiced martial arts, so even a mediocre martial artist could send him flying with a single kick. Within the prison, he was considered one of the weakest.

Neither Wu Shan, the hunter, nor Qian Ying, the daughter of the armory shop owner, paid him any real attention.

Ye Mo naturally cared even less, listening with a smile and then letting it go.

“It’s almost time for the evening meal. Everyone should stop talking. If the patrolling pirates overhear us, we’ll get nothing but a scolding.”

Zhao Dafu checked the time and ceased his mockery of Ye Mo.

“Hmm, Dafu is right. Let’s all stay quiet. Just a few days ago, someone caused trouble and was beaten senseless by the patrol. The cries echoed through the whole cabin—pitiful and shrill.”

Scholar Zhang spoke with lingering fear.

Afterwards, everyone in the cell lay in their own spots, covering themselves with sparse dry grass to sleep.

Few still meditated in the cell; many had lost the habit of daily cultivation. In the pirate ship’s prison, they saw no future for themselves.

How many days they could survive on this ship was anyone’s guess.

As prisoners, slaves, they could die at any time from minor illnesses, and, still alive, be thrown into the vast Eastern Sea to become food for the fish, lest they infect others.

Such was the fate of these captive slaves, a fate no one could alter.

At night, when it was cold, they crowded together to sleep, unwilling to risk catching a chill. If a pirate patrol found them sick, they would be tossed into the sea.

That consequence was more than they could bear.

The cell was cramped; eight people together made it feel crowded, the air thick and stale.

“Once the night patrol passes, I can take my last Vitality Pill. Now, I’m at the peak of the ninth layer of body refinement—just one step from breaking through. If I form my spiritual core, I’ll become a true cultivator.”

In the quiet cell, Ye Mo began to ponder.

He hadn’t rushed to take the pill before, fearing that rapid progress would leave his foundation unstable. Even his strength could become uncontrollable, too forceful for his own good.

If inner energy became chaotic, it could spell disaster.

During the month adrift at sea on the raft with the other martial artists, he consistently spent hours each day cultivating the Wave-Cutting Technique, and now he was fully accustomed to the power of the ninth layer of body refinement.

Now that he was aboard the pirate ship, it was time to take the final Vitality Pill and break through.

Once he succeeded and became a cultivator, his strength would multiply many times over, far surpassing even the greatest martial artists—he could dispatch any of them in an instant.

But this required a stable environment to absorb the pill and transform his spiritual core.

This was why Ye Mo chose to surrender his weapons rather than immediately clash with the pirates on board.

The past few days, he endured.

Taking the Vitality Pill demanded peace, free from interruption, and any disturbance at a critical moment could bring disaster.

When cultivating, especially breaking through a realm, being forced out of meditation could mean, at best, losing all progress, and at worst, falling into madness, never advancing again. In the most severe case, it could even bring death from shattered veins and bones.

“I need time—two or three days if quick, four or five if not—then I’ll form my spiritual core! Once I become a cultivator, with strength over a thousand pounds, even the greatest martial artist would be killed with a single punch. This cell can’t hold me!

When I rescue Gao Jian, Lin Zhi, Mo Ling, and Wang Hu, I’ll find a way to reclaim the Golden Spirit Sword and Water Arrow Rune. Then, it will be time to battle the pirates on this ship!”

Ye Mo put aside his thoughts, quietly lying in wait, listening to what lay outside the cell, waiting for the night patrol.

As soon as the evening patrol finished their rounds, he would use the last Vitality Pill to become a true cultivator.

Then, no one on this ship would be able to stand against him.

Ye Mo’s resolve was unshakable.

He had suffered countless hardships since childhood. Poverty could not defeat him, nor could Zheng Yiqing or He An, nor the tide of sea beasts, nor this prison of spiritual wood.

Once, he was a common youth, dreaming of fine horses, grand homes, beautiful wives and concubines—immortals were but legends to him.

But now, the dream of immortality was within reach. His path led to the Immortal Village, and an immortal journey filled with opportunity and challenge.

“Dong—dong—!”

Heavy footsteps echoed through the corridor of the ship’s cabin. After a while, two fully armed island warriors appeared outside Ye Mo’s cell.

Their armor clattered as they walked, and the swords at their waists glinted coldly.

The two pirates carried lanterns, delivering the evening meal through the small opening in the wooden bars of each cell.

They inspected the cell, checking for signs of illness.

Nothing else was scrutinized.

They never believed any of these slave prisoners could break the sturdy spiritual wood bars with their bare hands—bars that could withstand a thousand pounds of force.

Both men had served as attendants to Captain Feng Xionglang. They knew even a peak martial artist like Feng could not break the spiritual wood cell without a treasured blade.

Soon, the two patrolling pirates found a corpse in one of the cells, dead for just an hour or two.

They didn’t bother to ask the reason.

Fighting to the death or dying from illness was common in these cells.

“How unlucky, another dead one!”

“We’ve followed the boss for over a decade, shedding blood and sweat. Even if we haven’t achieved much, we’ve worked hard. Now the boss assigns us these menial chores—makes my heart cold.”

“Ah, it’s because we’re old and our strength is waning. What I want most now is to return to the Nine Provinces, enjoy the wealth I’ve accumulated these years, and live a few good days. I’m tired of all this fighting and killing!”

The two pirates chatted as they worked, hauling the corpse away.

After some time, the sounds from the ship’s lower deck subsided.

Ye Mo listened to their retreating footsteps, certain they wouldn’t return. Then, with a flick of his tongue, he spat out a small piece of fish intestine.

When the pirates forced them to surrender their weapons, Ye Mo sensed danger.

There was no time to absorb the Vitality Pill’s energy, and he dared not swallow it directly.

Taking advantage of a moment when no one was watching, he slipped the pill into a piece of fish intestine washed in seawater and hid it beneath his tongue.

Thanks to this, the Vitality Pill was spared, not seized by Captain Feng.

Ye Mo smiled with satisfaction, placed the fish intestine back in his mouth and bit down, letting the pill dissolve. As it melted in his saliva, a warm current flowed into his abdomen.