After I Got Pregnant With The Hero’S Baby, I Ran Away With The Ball. Chapter 3

“Is the demonic energy truly eroding his body so severely?”

Duan Xi’s face was grim, his mood worse than it had ever been.

Sitting by the bed was a young man with white robes, ink-black hair, and a gentle smile.

Fearing that spiritual energy entering Wei Lin’s body would worsen his condition, the young man could only use the most rudimentary method of examination. He placed his hand on Wei Lin’s wrist, and after a moment, a flicker of surprise crossed his eyes. He frowned in confusion, his fingertip moving slightly with the pulse.

Seeing his solemn expression, Duan Xi felt a sudden unease. He asked, “Is there anything unusual?”

The young man relaxed his tightly furrowed brow, shook his head after a long pause, and said, “Nothing, perhaps I misread it.”

It must be the chaotic pulse caused by the demonic energy’s erosion; otherwise, how could he detect a pregnancy pulse in a man?

The young man felt his medical skills were lacking. Perhaps he, too, should travel the world like his master.

He carefully took Wei Lin’s pulse again, then turned to Duan Xi and asked, “Did he catch a chill earlier?”

Duan Xi pursed his lips, recalling how he had used sword flight to rush back, exposing Wei Lin to the wind.

He nodded.

The young man pressed a hand to his forehead, sighing helplessly. “The backlash is only one factor. The second is that his constitution is too weak. Fortunately, he still has some foundation left, or else I would be figuring out how to snatch him back from the King of Hell right now.”

As he spoke, the young man rose and walked to the desk in the room, picking up a brush to write a prescription.

After drying the ink, the young man handed the prescription to Duan Xi, instructing, “Try not to let him catch the wind in the future. Ensure he stays warm, and absolutely do not let him overheat.”

Duan Xi clutched the prescription, remaining silent for a long time. Just as the young man was about to leave, he suddenly asked, “Is there still a possibility of curing his Cultivation Deviation?”

A trace of surprise flashed in the young man’s eyes; he clearly couldn’t understand why Duan Xi would ask such a question, but he answered truthfully nonetheless.

“The possibility of a cure does exist, but it is small, and the cost of treatment is too great. The main medicinal ingredient is also extremely difficult to find.”

The possibility of a cure was practically zero.

Cultivators rely on spiritual power as their foundation. Once they suffer Cultivation Deviation, demonic energy rapidly erodes the spiritual power within the body. In mild cases, cultivation stagnates; in severe cases, spiritual energy fails, leading to death.

“Besides the erosion of demonic energy, there seems to be another mysterious force within him that is both resisting the demonic energy and simultaneously draining his life force. This is why his spiritual power is dissipating faster than others, and why his body is so weak that he is worse off than a mortal.”

“He must have been suffering from Cultivation Deviation for about a month. To have survived this long is already a miracle.”

Duan Xi listened without a word, but he clenched the prescription in his hand, his knuckles turning white from the force.

One month—that was exactly after that incident.

Duan Xi couldn’t help but suspect that Wei Lin’s Cultivation Deviation might be related to that event.

He pondered for a moment, and driven by an unknown emotion, his resolute dark eyes looked at the young man. “If I insist on curing him, how much confidence do you have?”

The young man was startled, then shook his head. “Chang Lan’s skills are insufficient; I have zero confidence. If my master were to intervene, perhaps there would be thirty percent confidence.”

The person on the bed, whose face was flushed crimson from fever, let out a painful whimper. Duan Xi looked at him deeply, then abruptly loosened his grip.

He said, “I understand.”

The young man bowed and retreated. Just as he was closing the door, he happened to see Duan Xi, who moments ago had been resolute about saving the man, tear the prescription to shreds.

As a medical cultivator, he knew clearly that if Wei Lin’s cold wasn’t treated this time, there was a ninety percent chance he would be taking a trip to the gates of the Ghost Valley.

He frowned slightly, tightening his grip on the doorframe. In the end, he said nothing and closed the door.

Duan Xi stood silently by the bed for a long time. If not for the faint sound of breathing, one might mistake him for a statue.

After an unknown period, Duan Xi turned and walked out without a word.

Wei Lin felt as if he was being thrown into an ice cellar one moment and roasted over a fire the next, the discomfort leaving him completely muddled.

He vaguely heard people talking nearby and tried to open his eyes, but he couldn’t.

Not long after, the conversation stopped, and then he heard the sound of the door opening and closing.

Silence returned to the room, and the temperature inside seemed to drop, becoming colder with that person’s departure.

The pain that had almost subsided suddenly returned with a vengeance, causing Wei Lin to tighten his brows. Besides the agony that felt like being sliced by knives, the coldness in his body was relentless. Even under thick blankets, he shivered uncontrollably.

After half an hour of torment, Duan Xi returned, carrying a bowl of steaming medicinal soup.

He paused before entering the door, then walked in as if nothing had happened.

The person on the bed seemed terribly cold, his pale fingers clutching the blankets, yet still shivering.

Duan Xi walked up, helped him sit up—his movements were not particularly gentle—pinched his chin to force his mouth open, and poured the medicinal soup down his throat.

After finishing, he stood up, preparing to leave, but felt someone tugging at his robe.

“Don’t… go…”

As if afraid of his departure, the slender, pale hand gripped tightly, pulling wrinkles into the hem of the robe.

Duan Xi hesitated, wondering whether to pry his hand off, when the person on the bed suddenly opened his eyes.

The golden eyes were unfocused, staring at him blankly for a long time, filled with unfamiliarity. After a while, he seemed to startle awake and quickly withdrew his hand.

Wei Lin’s face was flushed crimson from the fever, conveniently hiding the rapidly reddening tips of his ears, preventing him from feeling overly embarrassed.

He felt somewhat flustered. Just now, he seemed to have begged Duan Xi not to leave.

How mortifying!

He knew he was only in immense pain, and it seemed that every time Duan Xi approached him, the pain lessened slightly. His body’s self-preservation instinct prompted him to subconsciously try to keep the person there the moment he sensed Duan Xi was leaving.

Saying those words was not his intention.

Duan Xi looked as if he had discovered something amusing, crossing his arms and hooking his lips in a teasing manner. “Valley Master Wei doesn’t want me to leave. Is it because you like me?”

Wei Lin pursed his lips, unsure how to retort. Even though he was semi-conscious and delirious from the fever, those two words had indeed come out of his mouth.

Given the relationship between them, those two words were far too ambiguous.

He stiffened his neck, stammered for a long time, and finally managed to squeeze out, “I wasn’t calling you.”

The other man’s face visibly darkened. “Then who was Valley Master Wei calling?”

Wei Lin strangely detected a hint of suppressed fury in the calm tone, but he dismissed it as an illusion. He turned his face away and muttered, “Who I call is none of your business.”

Duan Xi took a deep breath, scoffed, and turned to stride out of the room.

The door became an innocent punching bag, slammed shut by a gust of sleeve wind.

Alone in the room, Wei Lin sighed in relief.

The medicinal soup he had just drunk began to take effect. He blinked sleepily, but his chaotic thoughts kept him awake. He stared blankly at the dark patterns on the fabric above the bed.

Wei Lin thought he must have been an evil person for ten lifetimes; otherwise, why would the heavens torment him like this?

Abandoned by his parents, framed by his friends, and trusting his so-called friends right up until his death—he was truly ridiculously foolish.

The only fortunate thing was that he couldn’t even die properly and had transmigrated into a novel he had once read. Other transmigrating protagonists could smoothly navigate the plot and complete their missions, but for him, the plot had already collapsed into a mess the moment he arrived. Even knowing the original story was useless.

His foresight cheat was essentially useless, and his body was still broken due to Cultivation Deviation.

But no matter how terrible the situation, the original host had granted him a new life.

He didn’t know where the original host had gone, but the residual will of the original host constantly influenced him, urging him to live well.

Wei Lin tugged at the corner of his mouth, raising his hand to cover his eyes, laughing self-deprecatingly as he murmured, “You want me to live, but you won’t let me know what I should do. You certainly know how to make things difficult for me.”

The original host left no clues, and even his subordinates were missing. Completing the original host’s last wish without any of his memories was practically impossible.

Wei Lin let out a long sigh, deciding to simply take things as they came.