Chapter Sixty: Taboo?

A searing pain flared across her back, but Catherine paid it no mind. She could tell it was only a light scrape. She rolled to her feet with all speed, dashed forward to the upper half of the phantom wolf's body, drew her dagger, and, without a moment's hesitation, slashed down. The great wolf's head tumbled to the ground, blood spurting merrily from the severed neck. Only after all this did she spit dirt from her mouth with a couple of sharp "ptooeys" and flop down on her back.

It was only then that Catherine realized her heart was pounding like a war drum. The exhilaration of battle gave way to an endless flood of dread. If she'd been even a little slower to react, if she'd misjudged her opponent's move, if the lightning in her knee strike had been the slightest bit weaker—then it would likely be her, not the wolf, lying gutted on the ground.

Damn it. Every time she fought, once she entered that frenzied, close-quarters rhythm, she felt as though she'd gone mad, her actions driven entirely by instinct. Her fighting style was all-out, reckless, never sparing a thought for her own safety. Once or twice, she could blame it on unfamiliarity with the martial arts, but if this happened every battle, Catherine couldn't help but wonder if she had berserker blood in her veins.

She panted for a while before Ling Mo's broad face appeared above her. "How are you feeling?" he asked.

Catherine threw an arm across her face to block her eyes and muttered, "Pretty good. Fighting is exhilarating. But if I keep throwing myself in like this, I'm bound to die one day, aren't I?"

"At least you haven't let victory go to your head," Ling Mo mocked, then continued, "You must remember at all times: the role you’re playing now is that of a predator. In nature, many predators are fully capable of taking down large herbivores—so why don't they? Because those animals can inflict terrible wounds in return, and in the primordial jungle, weakness is the greatest sin."

"I understand that, but..."

"But I just can't control myself, right?" Ling Mo finished for her with a sidelong glance, then nudged her with his foot. "As your body grows stronger, so too does your animal nature, making you more bloodthirsty. But remember, you’re a human. If you can't even control your own bloodlust, can you really call yourself human? If you can't control even this, how can you hope to master your own organs?"

Catherine yelped at the pain, scrambled up, and rubbed the spot where Ling Mo had kicked her, grumbling, "Master, do you have to be so strict..."

Halfway through, she sniffed the air, clearly catching the scent of "roast meat" wafting around them. Instantly forgetting about being kicked, she wore an expression of bliss, patted her stomach, and skipped over to the phantom wolf's corpse. "Whatever the case, at least the reward is worth it! We'll worry about the rest later—let’s seize the moment! Master, how do you eat this thing? We’re not eating it raw, are we?"

"You can’t eat that."

Catherine was happily kneading different parts of the wolf’s body, searching for the most tender spot, when she froze at Ling Mo’s words. She stared at him, dumbfounded. "Huh?!"

"You can’t eat it," Ling Mo repeated, struggling to keep a straight face.

Catherine's face immediately crumpled with dismay. "But didn’t you say this thing was my lunch? I risked my life fighting it all this time..."

"Sorry, I lied," Ling Mo said, the apology empty in his tone. "A mid-level martial artist’s stomach is strong, but you can’t digest a half-phantom creature yet. If you try, you’ll end up with diarrhea so bad you’ll be completely wiped out."

Catherine’s expression twisted. After a long silence, she kicked the wolf’s upper half far away and said in a chilly voice, "Master, if I could beat you, you’d be bleeding all over the place right now, believe me?"

"Then work hard to improve. I hope you'll be able to give me a real beating one day."

"That’s a long way off. So, if I can’t eat the phantom wolf, what am I supposed to eat? You owe me something, Master! I really don’t have the strength to go hunting again."

"You can’t eat anything right now. Soon we’ll visit an old friend of mine to replenish and replace your body fluids. The fewer impurities in you, the better—think of it like fasting before surgery. Hold on a bit longer. As soon as the Fourth Moon Phenomenon ends, we’ll set out."

Now Catherine was truly frustrated. She pointed a trembling finger at Ling Mo, opened her mouth to retort, but swallowed the words when she saw the faint smile on his face. Fuming, she turned away and sprawled on the ground.

"Then why did you bother kicking me up?"

"I'm not talking to you!"

"I'm exhausted!"

"I'm going to sleep!"

"I'm not getting up unless you feed me!"

"Come now, Master would never harm you," Ling Mo said with a smile, squatting down and feeling Catherine’s forehead. "Haven’t you noticed? Your fever’s gone. The nausea and headache you had when you got up have disappeared too, right?"

Catherine paused but said nothing.

Ling Mo went on, "That’s because you used up all your internal energy, slowing your metabolism, so your body needs less, and dehydration is less of a problem. Remember this: when a martial artist falls ill, their body works the opposite of an ordinary person’s. If you get sick while in a strong state, drain yourself until you’re weak—the illness will ease up a lot."

As Ling Mo spoke, a sudden gust of wind blew past. Catherine abruptly sat up from her supine posture, secretly palmed a pebble, and, from a blind spot invisible to the Arcane-Eye Sprite, flicked it out and let out a convincing gasp. The sprite was destroyed instantly, and the livestream cut off. Having done this, Catherine turned, her expression grave.

"Master, why do those lightning-imbued moves use up so much stamina?"

Ling Mo watched her. "No more sulking? I thought you weren't curious about that."

Catherine didn’t answer, but looked at Ling Mo with serious intent. Sensing her sincerity, Ling Mo dropped his teasing manner, thought for a moment, and asked, "Well… First, does it strike you as strange that you can use lightning powers?"

"I was just thinking about that," Catherine replied, her face troubled. "When I was a mage, I trained my mental strength and used it to command magical elements, which I then shaped into powerful spells. As a martial artist, I refine those same elements into pure energy and absorb them to enhance my body. If the energy comes from magical elements, it should be easy to convert it back. Is that right, Master?"

"More or less… correct."

Catherine said nothing, but her face was full of shock. "So… it really is true! But why?"

"Why what?"

"Don’t play dumb, Master—you know what I mean. How is it possible to channel magical elements into the human body? According to everything I’ve learned, everyone who’s tried that in the last three thousand years has died—or turned into a monster! Infusing magical elements into the body is a well-known taboo! How did martial arts break it?"

"I can’t explain that to you," Ling Mo said slowly. Seeing she wanted to protest, he added, "It’s not that I won’t tell you, but that words can’t explain. Once you break through to high-level martial artist, you’ll understand. By the way, these days you’ve only been absorbing energy from food, right? When did you first sense the true way of martial cultivation?"

"The instant I unleashed the Lightning Fist," Catherine said, staring at her own hand in confusion. "No wonder you said the entry into martial arts is so dangerous. The so-called foundation is actually magical element infusion! If anyone finds out during a livestream, hardly anyone will dare try martial arts. That’s really going to hurt your efforts to promote it, Master—that taboo runs deep in everyone’s mind!"

"So, you only seem brash on the surface, but actually you’re very thoughtful, aren’t you?" Ling Mo gave her an approving look and ruffled her hair. "I’m glad you’re thinking of me, but even if this gets out, it won’t matter in the end. You’ll understand someday. Anyway, let’s get back to those two moves and the energy drain. How would you rate the power of the lightning on your fists just now—what spell level would it match?"

Catherine frowned, thought it over, and said, "About… between second- and third-level magic. Stronger than the second-level electric spell, ‘Charged Shot,’ but weaker than the third-level ‘Lightning Strike.’"

"That’s a fair assessment. But here’s the thing—even Lightning Strike can’t cut a Shadow Wolf in half, let alone a higher-level Phantom Wolf, right?"

Catherine was taken aback, and Ling Mo smiled. "There’s another thing: your regular punches and kicks are about as strong as second- or third-level spells already. The Lightning Fist only boosted it a little, but used up much more energy. Is that normal? Think it through carefully. Once you figure this out, you’ll be one big step closer to becoming a high-level martial artist!"