Each Pill

At the forefront, Dao Feng sets the pace, his figure a constant presence leading the way. Next to him, Lin Yue matches his stride, her presence reinforcing the leadership at the head of their small procession. They navigate the terrain, their horses responding to the slightest cues, a silent dialogue between rider and mount that speaks of long hours spent together.

Li Wei finds himself a few paces behind; his position in this formation is more than just a matter of physical distance; it reflects the unspoken order governing their group. His older horse, with a gait that speaks of many years under its belt, carries him reliably, if not with the vigour of the mounts ahead. He watches the landscape roll by, a vast tapestry of greens and browns shifting and changing as they move through it. His attention, however, is divided, not fully captured by the natural beauty around him.

Behind him, the servants maintain a respectful distance, their own pace, a careful balance between keeping up and not imposing on the space between them and their superiors. Among them, the young boy, newly added to their number, struggles silently with his load. His steps are measured, a physical effort to keep pace while bearing the weight of his responsibilities. 

Their path is well-trodden, evidence of the many who have passed this way before them, yet each step feels solitary. The sound of hooves on the earth, the rustle of leaves in the gentle breeze, and the distant calls of birds overhead provide a backdrop to their progress, a natural orchestra that plays unnoticed by those focused on the road ahead.

Li Wei's mind turns to the journey ahead, his thoughts tinged with anticipation. He relishes the idea of being away from the sect, the distance from Senior Huo's watchful eyes granting a taste of freedom he's seldom known. "Being free from Senior Huo...," he muses internally, a smirk playing at the corners of his mind. The prospect of enriching himself beyond the rigid confines of the sect's walls sparks a flame of ambition within him.

The notion of wielding power over mortals, those defenceless beings outside the cultivation realm, stirs a dark excitement. "They're practically defenceless," he contemplates, his mind racing with the possibilities that Dao Feng's earlier actions had laid bare. "You can practically do whatever you want to them, take whatever you want..." Realising that their powers grant them near-absolute freedom over the mortals fills him with a potent mix of anticipation and power.

Li Wei's thoughts drift further, envisioning the control, the authority he could exert in this new domain. "Bossing around mortals," he considers, the idea not just appealing but fitting, a rightful exercise of the power he's worked hard to cultivate. The knowledge that, as demonstrated by Dao Feng, their capabilities allow them to shape the world to their desires, to extract whatever resources or obedience they wish from those less powerful, is intoxicating. "The humiliation I've felt by the inner disciples... I can repay to the mortals," he reflects.

Li Wei reaches into the folds of his robe, fingers searching for the familiar shape of a bone pill. Extracting a single pill, he places it between his lips, feeling its rough texture against his tongue before swallowing.

Absorbing the qi from the pill while mounted on a moving horse requires a level of concentration that surpasses when stationary. The horse's steady gait, a rhythmic movement pattern, becomes a backdrop to his focus. Each pill dissolves, releasing a faint stream of qi that Li Wei draws into his bones, guiding it with practised internal movements.

This method of cultivation, unorthodox and adapted to the peculiarities of their journey, lacks the efficiency and comfort of stationary meditation. The flow of qi is scant, each pill contributing only a trickle to Li Wei's reserves. Yet, Li Wei persists. "Going to take me ages to advance, so why not at least make a dent in the number of pills it'll take," he thinks, a silent acknowledgement of the slow pace of his progress.

The landscape around him blurs into a background of greens and browns as he focuses inward, attuning himself to the subtle flow of qi within. The horse beneath him, a silent partner in this endeavour, continues its steady pace, undisturbed by the silent work atop its back.

Each pill consumed is a small victory, a step towards accumulating power and advancement in cultivation. The monotony of the action, the repetitive cycle of reaching, consuming, and absorbing, is broken only by the satisfaction of progress, incremental though it may be.

Li Wei maintains his regimen as the day wears on and the number of consumed pills climbs. The act becomes a meditation, a discipline that marries the physicality of their travel with the spirituality of his cultivation path. Each pill, each moment of absorption, is a brick in the foundation of his future strength.

Li Wei shifts from the landscape ahead to the figure trailing slightly behind the main group. The young boy, tasked with carrying not just his weight but Li Wei's additional burdens, moves with a visible effort. Each step attempts to balance the load he bears: one sack slung over his shoulder, the fabric stained with the road's dust, and another held tight against his chest, its contents shifting with his movements.

The boy's face, when Li Wei catches a glimpse of it, is set in a grimace of determination. Sweat beads on his brow, tracing lines down his dirt-smudged cheeks before disappearing into the collar of his robe. His breathing, though laboured, is steady, a silent testament to his resolve not to fall behind or show the full extent of his struggle.

As Li Wei watches the young servant's awkward attempts at setting up camp, a critical thought crosses his mind. "If he can't manage this, what good is he?" he questions himself silently, evaluating the boy's utility with the detached assessment of one measuring the worth of a tool.

The idea of seeking a replacement flickers briefly through his thoughts, viewed through a lens prioritising efficiency and utility above all else. "Finding a replacement...," he contemplates, the idea tempting but quickly countered by the realisation of the logistical headaches it would bring.

"Holding up the group is not a good look," he concludes internally.

In this moment of reflection, Li Wei's focus on the mission and his role within it remains undisturbed by personal sentiment. While noted, The boy's struggles are a small factor in a much larger equation. Li Wei's considerations revolve around efficiency, reputation, and the seamless progress of their journey. The weight of leadership and the expectations that come with it, both from himself and others, guide his thoughts and actions.

Li Wei reaches into the depths of his robe, fingers brushing against the pills from Xue Feng. The action is discreet as he carefully extracts a pill, its origin marked by the circumstances of its acquisition. This stash, unlike the regular bone pills he's been consuming, holds a promise of unknown potential, a gamble on the chance of encountering something more potent, something that could accelerate his progress.

Each pill from Xue Feng's collection is unremarkable in appearance, indistinguishable from the ones Li Wei has grown accustomed to. Yet, the anticipation of uncovering a hidden gem among them lends a certain intensity to consumption. As he swallows the pill, there's a moment of focused attention, a channelling of his senses inward, waiting, assessing the flow of qi as it releases into his system.

The process is familiar yet charged with a new expectation. The qi from the pill diffuses within him, its quality scrutinised by his experienced perception. The hope for a surge of power, for a noticeable leap in the energy available to him, hangs in the balance with each pill consumed. But the results, pill after pill, are consistent with his usual fare—useful, yet lacking the breakthrough he quietly longs for.

"I'll consume the bloodied pills from Xue Feng, hopefully, a more powerful pill is in there," he reaffirms to himself, the repetition of the act a testament to his willingness to sift through the mundane in search of the exceptional. This resolve to make use of whatever resources are at his disposal underscores his approach to cultivation—a relentless pursuit of advancement, no matter how incremental.

Li Wei continues as the day progresses, and the landscape shifts around them. Consuming pill after pill. 

"We stop here for the night," Dao Feng announces, reins in hand, gazing over the open space before them.

Li Wei dismounts fluidly, his feet touching the ground with a soft thud as Dao Feng declares the day's travel has concluded. The clearing they've chosen for the night's rest stretches wide, an open canvas under the sky, noticeably lacking the protective embrace of trees and shrubs they've grown accustomed to. The wind, unhindered by any natural barrier, cuts across the space, carrying a bite that tugs insistently at his clothing, an unwelcome companion as the light begins to fade.

Around him, the servants spring into action, the routine of setting up camp efficiently unfolding. The servants move to unpack and prepare the site. Yet, Li Wei's gaze finds his own servant, the boy with the dual burdens, now tasked with contributing to the camp's construction. The boy's hands, clumsy with the tent fabric, struggle to find purchase, and his attempts to secure the structure met with the wind's mocking resistance. Each fumble and moment of hesitation paints a stark picture of his struggle against his limitations.