novelraw Chapter 4, First Strand of Chakra
Chapter 4, First Strand of Chakra
The process of sensing chakra is not as mysterious as it is described in novels.
There was no "surging heat" or "heat in the lower abdomen".
At least for Sosuke, for the first three hours, all he felt was hunger.
I'm very hungry.
A high level of mental concentration accelerates the body's depletion.
My stomach is cramping and is making gurgling protesting noises.
Sosuke had to stop and eat another handful of raw rice.
Raw rice is difficult to digest, but cooking it over a fire in the wild is suicidal. Smoke is very conspicuous on a clear morning after rain, signaling to predators that "there is meat here."
Its daybreak.
The rain finally stopped.
The eastern sky was turning a pale white, but the clouds were still thick, making it feel oppressive and suffocating.
Sosuke moved his stiff limbs.
He spent the night huddled in a crevice in the rocks, and his legs were numb.
He tried again to find that energy by following the instructions on the scroll.
First and foremost is spiritual energy.
This was relatively easy for Sosuke.
His experience of living two lives, coupled with the fusion of the souls of transmigrators, made his mental strength stronger and more stable than that of ordinary people.
The difficulty lies in the body's energy.
This body is severely depleted.
Long-term malnutrition leaves every cell in a state of hunger.
Trying to squeeze energy out of these shriveled cells is like trying to squeeze water out of a dry sponge.
Sosuke did not give up.
He adjusted his breathing again and again, trying to guide it again and again.
Finally, at the moment the sun rose.
He sensed something was amiss.
There was a very faint tremor three inches below the navel.
It's like a very fine hair gently brushing against a blood vessel.
pain.
It was accompanied by a tingling, stinging sensation.
That is chakra.
Although it is so faint as to be almost negligible, it does exist.
In that instant, Sosuke felt his vision clear a little more. The sound of the wind rustling through the grass also became more distinct.
This is not just energy, but also an extension of the senses.
Sosuke breathed a sigh of relief and immediately stopped refining.
He felt a strong wave of dizziness.
This is a sign of low blood sugar.
Extracting just this trace of chakra consumed the last bit of sugar in his body.
"That's the threshold."
Sosuke leaned against the rock, panting heavily, his hand tightly gripping the scroll.
Without sufficient food to sustain one's cultivation, forcing oneself to practice is tantamount to suicide.
He needs meat.
High-calorie foods are needed.
This bag of brown rice won't last more than a few days.
Sosuke carefully tucked the scroll into his pocket and hid it close to his body.
Then he stood up and peered out to observe his surroundings.
It was very quiet on the riverbank.
In the distance, black smoke was rising from the direction of Chiyan Town.
The plume of black smoke shot straight into the sky, and could be clearly seen even from more than ten kilometers away.
That place is finished.
Sosuke, no longer lingering, picked up his rice bag and walked downstream along the riverbank.
Since the Iwa ninja came from the north, going south is relatively safe.
To the south lies the border of the Land of Fire. Although it's also a war zone, it's at least better than directly colliding with a large force of Iwa ninja.
I walked all morning.
The road is becoming increasingly difficult to travel.
The riverbanks disappeared, replaced by dense bushes and muddy swamps.
Sosuke's straw sandals were completely ruined.
He walked barefoot in the mud, his soles cut in several places by the stones. But he felt little pain; his nerves were numb.
Around noon.
Sosuke heard some sounds.
It wasn't the cry of wild animals, but the creaking of wheels rolling over muddy ground, and the snorting of livestock.
someone.
And it was a large group of people.
Sosuke immediately became alert and darted into the roadside bushes.
Through the gaps in the grass, he saw a convoy.
This is not just a group of refugees; it's more like a caravan.
Five horse-drawn carriages.
The cart was piled high with goods, completely covered with tarpaulins. It was pulled by a wildebeest with sturdy legs and excellent endurance.
There were about twenty guards surrounding the carriage.
They were dressed in uniform leather armor, with samurai swords at their waists and spears in their hands. Although not ninjas, they appeared well-trained and had fierce expressions.
Behind the convoy followed a large group of refugees.
There were about a hundred people.
They hung at a distance, not daring to get too close, nor wanting to be too far away.
This is a unique ecosystem in the ninja world.
The caravan had armed forces that could drive away wild animals and stragglers.
The refugees followed the caravan seeking a sense of psychological security, while also hoping to scavenge some leftovers.
Sosuke's eyes flickered.
Join them?
This is an opportunity.
The chances of encountering wolves or wandering ninjas when walking alone in the wild are too high. Survival is much better by blending in with a crowd.
But we can't just walk out like that.
He looks too much like a "fat sheep" now.
Although he was dressed in rags, he was carrying a bag of rice on his back.
To these starving refugees, the bag of rice was more tempting than gold. If he were to walk out like that, without even needing any guards, the refugees behind him would tear him apart and steal everything.
Sosuke retreated into the bushes.
He opened the rice bag.
I reluctantly grabbed half a grain of rice.
He took off his tattered coat, wrapped the half-meter inside, and tied it in a tight knot.
Then, he found a tree hole nearby, stuffed the bag of rice inside, and sealed it with mud and dead leaves.
This is the backup plan.
Cunning Rabbit Three Caves.
He left the remaining half of the rice in the original cloth bag.
Then, he did something even more ruthless.
He grabbed a handful of mud from the ground and smeared it directly onto the rice in the rice bag.
The perfectly good brown rice instantly turned into dirty, muddy rice.
This significantly reduces its value.
Even if it gets stolen, others will still look down on it.
After doing all this, Sosuke emerged from the bushes, pretending to have just been traveling, and blended into the group of refugees at the back of the convoy.
Nobody paid any attention to him.
Everyone was numb, only focused on hurrying along with their heads down.
Occasionally, a few people would glance at the bag he was carrying, their eyes lighting up, but upon seeing the dark, filthy rice peeking out of the bag's opening, they would look away in disgust.
"Where are we going?"
Sosuke approached an old man with a cane and asked in a low voice.
The old man glanced at him but didn't say anything.
Sosuke took out the piece of salted meat he hadn't finished eating from his pocket, tore off a piece about the size of a fingernail, and handed it over.
The old man's eyes lit up instantly.
He quickly grabbed the strip of meat, stuffed it into his mouth, and swallowed it without even chewing.
"Go to Konoha," the old man said in a low voice. "I heard this caravan is transporting supplies to Konoha. If we follow them, we can enter the Land of Fire."
Leaf.
In this world, this word represents the strongest order, as well as relative peace.
Of course, it also means xenophobia.
"What's the background of this caravan?" Sosuke asked.
"The Takaya Trading Company." The old man licked his lips, seemingly savoring the taste of the salted meat. "That's the boss, Takaya Jiro. I heard he's a ruthless character."
Sosuke looked at the front of the convoy.
In the first carriage sat a fat man.
She's really fat.
In this era of widespread malnutrition, the fat man was like a mountain of flesh. He wore silk clothes and held a folding fan, fanning himself incessantly, even though the temperature was not high.
His eyes were very active, constantly scanning his surroundings, revealing the shrewdness and calculation of a businessman.
Sosuke squinted.
To deliver supplies to Konoha?
If true, then this caravan certainly has an impressive background. During wartime, merchants who could obtain such permits had to be well-connected in both the legitimate and criminal worlds.
The convoy continued on its way.
As evening fell, the convoy stopped and set up camp in an open area.
The guards skillfully arranged the carriage in a circle and lit a bonfire in the middle.
The refugees could only huddle together on the outskirts.
A fragrant aroma wafted out.
It tastes like meat broth.
The caravan is cooking.
The refugees stirred, and the sounds of them swallowing their saliva rose and fell.
A few of the bolder refugees tentatively approached the convoy, holding up broken bowls, hoping to get a sip of soup.
"Get lost!"
One of the guards drew his sword and made a feinting slash in the air. "Take another ten steps, and you'll be killed without mercy!"
The refugees were so frightened that they retreated.
Sosuke sat on a rock some distance away, coldly watching this scene.
He was thinking.
He was thinking about how to get in touch with that fat guy.
Simply following along won't work.
If they encounter real danger, such as being pursued by Iwa ninja, the caravan will definitely use these refugees as bait and abandon them.
He had to get into that circle, into that safe zone enclosed by the carriages.
He needs to demonstrate his value.
But he couldn't display force (because he didn't have any), nor could he simply produce a large piece of gold (that would be suicide).
He needed something that was scarce in this environment, but wouldn't lead to his death.
He was thinking.
At that moment, a commotion arose from the direction of the caravan.
"Boss! Boss, what's wrong?"
"Quick! Get some water!"
The fat man named Takaya Jiro suddenly tumbled off the carriage, clutching his chest, his face turning purple, his mouth wide open but unable to breathe.
Asthma? Or heart disease?
The surrounding guards were thrown into chaos.
The team doctor—a thin, middle-aged man—ran over in a cold sweat, pinching the fat man's philtrum and patting his back, but the fat man's face grew increasingly pale, and he looked like he was about to suffocate.
"Is your trachea blocked?"
Sosuke stood up.
The opportunity is here.
This is a high-risk gamble.
If he is saved, he will be an honored guest.
If he dies after being saved, he will be dismembered.
But fortune favors the bold.
Sosuke put his hand into his pocket.
A slight thought.
【generate】.
He created a small, thin piece of silver, like a small knife.
Then, he created an extremely thin silver straw.
Then, he straightened his tattered clothes, trying to appear as calm as possible.
He strode toward the caravan's camp.
"stop!"
Two spears crossed in front of him.
"I can cure him." Sosuke's voice was loud and clear, exuding an undeniable confidence. "If you don't want him to die, let me through."
The guard was taken aback.
At this moment, the fat man on the ground began to roll his eyes.
The accompanying doctor was at a loss: "I can't...this is an emergency...the meridians are blocked..."
"Let him come here!"
"A man who looks like the head of the guards roared. We're desperate, so we'll try anything."
Sosuke pushed aside the spear and strode over to the fat man.
He glanced at the fat man's symptoms.
Airway obstruction. It could be due to allergies or phlegm blockage. In this day and age, the concept of tracheotomy doesn't exist; doctors still use mystical explanations like "qi channels."
Sosuke didn't waste any words.
He took the silver piece out of his pocket.
"Hold him down," Sosuke commanded.
The guard leader instinctively pressed down on the fat man's limbs.
Sosuke pinched the fat man below his Adam's apple, where the cricothyroid membrane was located.
There was no anesthetic, no disinfectant.
Silver has only a weak bactericidal effect.
laugh--
The silver sheet cut through the skin.
Fresh blood gushed out.
A gasp went up from the people around.
"Are you going to kill him?!" the doctor screamed.
Sousuke's eyes turned cold: "Shut up."
He swiftly and decisively cut open the trachea, then quickly inserted the hollow silver tube.
call--
A sharp whistling sound.
The fat man's chest heaved violently.
Air enters the lungs directly through the silver tube.
In that instant, the fat man's purplish-red face began to ease, and the suffocating, near-death feeling disappeared.
He breathed deeply, even though his throat was in excruciating pain.
Alive.
The surroundings were deathly silent.
Everyone stared at Sousuke as if he were a monster.
This is practically witchcraft.
In an era when medical ninjutsu was monopolized by the major ninja villages, folk medicine was still limited to herbal remedies and bloodletting. Tracheotomy was unheard of to them.
Sosuke loosened his grip; his hands were covered in blood.
He looked at the head guard and said calmly, "I need a bowl of hot soup and a clean set of clothes."
The guard leader's Adam's apple bobbed.
The way he looked at Sousuke changed.
It's no longer about looking at an ant, but about looking at it with awe.
In this chaotic world, those who can snatch people from the clutches of death are more precious than generals.
"Give it to him."
On the ground, the fat man who had just caught his breath, though still unable to speak, weakly raised his hand, pointed at Sosuke, and then at the carriage.
That was an invitation.
Sosuke's lips curled up slightly.
The first step has been taken.
He is no longer a refugee.
He was the "miracle doctor" of the Takaya caravan.
And all of this cost him less than a gram of silver.