The Painkiller

1,256 words

Senior Brother Li’s eyelids trembled faintly, revealing the intense mental struggle raging within him.

After a short while, his tightly shut eyes opened. He stared fixedly at the pill in Han Li’s hand, a fanatical gleam in his gaze.

Han Li said nothing more. He pushed the pill into the other’s mouth and watched him swallow it dryly with his saliva. Only then did he begin to gently pull out the silver needles stuck in Li’s body, one by one.

When all the needles were removed, the pill’s effects began to take hold. An unnatural flush rose on Senior Brother Li’s pallid face, spreading until his entire complexion turned blood-red. His body started to convulse again, his limbs trembling, and a series of low, guttural groans escaped his throat.

It was clear that he did not want to show weakness in front of Han Li. He had tried his best to suppress the sounds, but the inhuman pain still forced a roar from his lips.

The roar grew louder, his body shaking more violently. It was a long time before the howling gradually subsided, until finally it ceased entirely.

His complexion began to regain a healthy color, and his body stopped convulsing. He had evidently passed the worst of the ordeal.

Senior Brother Li slowly sat upright, crossed his legs, closed his eyes again, and began to meditate on the spot to recover his vitality. Han Li found a clean patch of rock and sat down casually to one side, watching him as he circulated his energy to restore his strength.

After the time it takes to finish a meal, Li, who had been sitting cross-legged, suddenly opened his eyes. He snatched the long blade lying beside him, leaped to his feet, and swung his arm. A flash of steel, and the gleaming edge was pressed against Han Li’s neck.

“Give me one reason not to kill you,” Senior Brother Li said, his eyes cold and murderous.

“I just saved your life. Does that count as a reason?” Han Li’s expression did not change. Only a slight twitch at the corner of his brow betrayed him, and that was barely noticeable without close observation.

Li’s expression softened slightly, but his eyes still glared fiercely at Han Li.

“Before I saved you, I already knew that you might kill me to keep your secret. I just didn’t expect you to act so quickly,” Han Li said, finally forcing a bitter smile. A trace of self-mockery appeared on his face.

“Ah, well. Even though I knew saving you would only bring trouble, I studied medicine. I can’t just watch a man die.” Han Li sighed.

Hearing this, Senior Brother Li looked somewhat embarrassed. The blade moved slightly away from Han Li’s neck, but he did not withdraw it completely.

Han Li breathed a quiet sigh of relief and steadied his tone further.

“You don’t have to worry about me telling anyone your secret. Anyone can see I’m not a gossip. If you’re really uneasy, I can swear a poisonous oath. You should be able to tell I don’t know any martial arts. If you find I’ve broken my word, you can kill me easily.” Han Li calmly offered the suggestion.

“Swear the oath, then,” Senior Brother Li said bluntly.

Only then did Han Li fully relax. Although he had studied Li’s face before treating him and judged that the man was not the type to forget a favor or turn cruel and vicious, that was not a certainty. If Li turned out to be a petty ingrate, Han Li would have had no choice but to rely on his only means of self-defense.

Thinking this, Han Li quietly moved his finger away from a small iron tube hidden in his sleeve.

After Han Li solemnly swore a poisonous oath, Senior Brother Li finally withdrew the long blade and sheathed it.

Han Li touched his neck. A shallow red line had been cut by the sharp edge. It felt slightly sticky, and he noticed a chill on his back—he had broken out in a cold sweat.

That was too close. I didn’t think it through enough. I must learn from this. Never, ever do such a thankless, stupid thing again. Whether someone lives or dies is their own business. What the hell is it to me? Han Li thought with lingering fear.

Without sufficient benefit and absolute certainty, I will never save anyone again, he vowed grimly in his heart.

The unpleasant consequences of his first intervention directly led to his future habit: never lift a finger without profit. Whatever simple, honest nature he had once possessed was thoroughly discarded. He did not become an evil man, but he was far removed from kindness and decency.

“You saved my life and agreed to keep my secret. I, Li Feiyu, owe you a great debt. As long as I live, if you ever need my help, come find me. If I can do it, I will,” Senior Brother Li said, having fully recovered the spirit he had shown at the cliff. He gathered the odds and ends Han Li had searched out and placed on the ground, then came before Han Li and spoke sincerely, giving his name and making his promise.

“I doubt I’ll have any trouble to trouble you with. But you seem to have plenty of your own, don’t you?” Han Li smiled faintly and countered.

“How do you know?” Li Feiyu was taken aback.

“Anyone could guess. You’re just an ordinary guard disciple, yet you’ve surpassed a whole crowd of hall masters, elders, and even the sect leader’s prized disciples. Do you think they’d make life easy for you?” Han Li struck the nail on the head.

Li Feiyu’s face darkened, and he was silent for a long time.

“I don’t want to get involved in your affairs, and I can’t anyway. But I can help alleviate some of the suffering caused by the Marrow-Extracting Pill.”

“Really?” Li Feiyu’s spirits lifted. The gloom on his face vanished, replaced by delight. Clearly, the torment of the Marrow-Extracting Pill had plagued him severely.

“Why would I lie to you for no reason?” Han Li shot him a glance. He did, in fact, have a prescription to ease such pain. He had developed it in his spare time specifically for Zhang Tie—a formula that could greatly reduce the body’s perception of suffering. It was highly effective.

“That’s wonderful! Truly wonderful!” Li Feiyu rubbed his hands together excitedly, staring at Han Li with eager anticipation.

“What are you looking at me like that for? I don’t have the medicine on me now. I’ll have to go back to Spirit Herb Valley to prepare it before I have the finished product.”

Li Feiyu felt a bit sheepish at this. He had just threatened the other with a blade, and now he was asking for medicine.

“Come wait for me at the entrance of Spirit Herb Valley at noon tomorrow. I’ll prepare the medicine and bring it to you. Doctor Mo is away right now, so I can’t just let outsiders into the valley,” Han Li said slowly.

“Alright. I’ll be there on time. Thank you, brother.” Li Feiyu quickly agreed, afraid Han Li might change his mind.

“My name is Han Li. I’m Doctor Mo’s personal disciple. Since your martial arts are so strong, just call me Junior Brother Han.”

Han Li, hearing the overly familiar term “brother,” quickly gave his name to avoid any even more embarrassing forms of address.

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Reading Guide Decoding

The Price of Kindness—Han Li’s First Rescue and His Last

Cultural / Xianxia Notes

The Poisonous Oath (毒誓): In Chinese folk and martial fiction, a poisonous oath is not just words. It invokes supernatural retribution on the swearer and their family if broken. Here, Han Li uses it as a tool to bypass Li’s suspicion—but the fact that Li accepts it as binding shows just how seriously such oaths are taken in this world. It’s a transaction, not a prayer.

The Medicine-Saver’s Dilemma: Han Li’s internal vow to “never save anyone without benefit” is a staple of the Mortal Stream sub-genre. In Western fantasy, saving a stranger is heroic; here, it’s treated as a liability analysis gone wrong. The narrative doesn’t punish Han Li for this cold logic—it rewards him. That’s the core tonal difference: the world is hostile, and only those who treat charity as a risk survive.

Pill Dependency as Power Structure: Li Feiyu’s Marrow-Extracting Pill isn’t just a plot device—it’s a metaphor for how the cultivation world hooks its underdogs. You get power, but you pay with agony and a shortened lifespan. Han Li’s ability to produce a painkiller doesn’t break the cycle; it just makes the cycle bearable. That’s the best deal anyone can hope for here.

Chapter Overview

This chapter delivers a masterclass in one of the Mortal Stream’s most cherished principles: never lift a finger without benefit. Han Li has just saved a man’s life, and his reward is a blade to the throat. If you thought the cultivation world ran on gratitude and good vibes, think again. Here, even a life-saving act is treated as a potential liability—because anyone desperate enough to swallow a forbidden pill is also desperate enough to silence the witness. The chapter is tense, darkly humorous, and serves as the explicit birth of Han Li’s signature rule: no rescue without profit. It’s a turning point that cements his pragmatic survival ethos and poisons whatever honest impulses he might have had left.

Key Plot Points

The blade to the throat: As soon as the worst of his pain subsides, Li Feiyu’s first instinct is to press a blade against Han Li’s neck. This is the Mortal Stream in a nutshell: survival paranoia overrides gratitude every time.
Han Li’s response: He stays calm, points out he just saved Li’s life, and cuts straight to negotiation. No begging, no pleading. He offers a poisonous oath—a binding vow from Chinese folk belief—to buy trust.
The oath and the reveal: Han Li swears the oath, Li sheathes the blade, and the two finally talk. Han Li admits he knew this could happen but saved Li anyway because “I studied medicine.” That line is half-truth, half-performance—and it works.
Mutual benefit deal: Han Li offers Li a painkiller prescription, which he originally developed for Zhang Tie. Li’s agonizing pill addiction is confirmed as his major vulnerability, and Han Li immediately weaponizes that knowledge—but in a way that creates a genuine alliance.
Birth of a rule: The narrator explicitly states that this incident is why Han Li adopts his “no profit, no rescue” policy. It’s the moment a somewhat decent village boy starts turning into the cold, calculating cultivator he will become.

Reading Guide

This is a character-establishing chapter, not an action one. Watch how Han Li manages the confrontation: he doesn’t panic, doesn’t beg, doesn’t posture heroically. He offers a solution (the oath) and then immediately pivots to a tangible offer (the painkiller). This is the blueprint for how he will handle almost every future negotiation—identify leverage, offer a trade, never show vulnerability.

Also, note the narrator’s direct commentary. This is rare in xianxia, but here the author flatly tells us that this chapter is why Han Li becomes the way he is. That’s your cue: this isn’t just a scene, it’s an origin story for his core trait.

For newcomers, the “poisonous oath” might feel archaic. But in this world, it’s a socially enforced contract—break it and you lose face, incur karma, or worse. Han Li uses it as a bargaining chip, not a spiritual act. That’s the pragmatic tone you should expect going forward.