11. Refining the Technique

Mo Fei and his companions, after a long and arduous journey, finally arrived before a grand mountain strewn with stones both large and small. This was the home of the Dwarven tribe.

Passing through a narrow mountain valley, they soon stood before the entrance to the tribe.

“Honored sir, please wait here for a moment. I will go inform the elder of your arrival,” said a dwarf miner respectfully to Mo Fei.

As the miner hurried inside to report, Mo Fei at last noticed the architectural genius of the dwarves. The walls flanking the main gate were built entirely from massive stones, fitted together without mortar or any other material to bind them. These stones were not simple rectangular blocks, but rather shaped with right-angled turns, each interlocking perfectly with its neighbors, forming a seamless and sturdy barrier.

Not long after, the main gate swung open. The miner who had gone in now returned, leading an elderly dwarf with hair and beard of white, followed by a host of middle-aged dwarves to greet them at the entrance.

The dwarf miners who had accompanied Mo Fei hurried forward and bowed deeply to the elder with the white beard.

The reporting miner introduced the elder to Mo Fei: “Respected mage, this is Elder Auf, the oldest and wisest member of our Stonecliff tribe. Elder, this is the mage I spoke of, the one who can cure our people’s cough.”

Upon hearing this, Elder Auf carefully studied Mo Fei. “Young man, is it true you can cure our tribe’s coughing illness? If you truly save my people, whatever your request, as long as it lies within our power, we will do everything to fulfill it.” Elder Auf pledged on behalf of the Stonecliff tribe.

“Elder Auf, you are too courteous. I do not help you for the sake of reward. It is my honor to aid those who suffer from illness.”

“You are a truly benevolent man. On behalf of my people, I offer you our highest respect.” Elder Auf bowed deeply, and behind him all the dwarves followed suit.

...

Within the council hall of the dwarven tribe, Mo Fei and Elder Auf sat together. Mo Fei produced paper and pen, skillfully drawing a variety of medicinal plants, marking their characteristics, and carefully writing out the methods for concocting the medicine.

“Elder Auf, here are the herbs needed to treat the cough. All you need do is send someone to gather them as shown, and prepare them according to my instructions. Even if you gather something similar, there is no harm, though it may be ineffective.”

“Your grace is immeasurable. Should you ever need our aid in the future, simply say the word; our dwarven tribe will support you with all our might.”

“Elder Auf, I hope you will agree to one thing. I share this recipe with you in hopes it may help more dwarves who suffer from the cough. I do not wish to see the formula misused for ill intentions.” Mo Fei warned.

“Rest assured, sir. Our dwarven race values promises above all else. A broken promise is met with scorn from our entire people!” Elder Auf promised solemnly.

“Now that all is settled, I would trouble you to arrange a place for me to rest. The berserker’s body has not yet recovered, so we will have to impose upon your hospitality a while longer.” With the matter of the dwarves concluded, Mo Fei turned his thoughts to solving the minotaur’s problem.

“You may stay in our tribe as long as you wish, it is our honor!” Elder Auf replied quickly.

In the room provided by Elder Auf, Mo Fei looked at Cain, who was now able to get up and walk. “Cain, my medicine may help with your weakness, but recovery is still slow. If we want to resolve the issue at its root, we must look to the berserkers’ own bodies.”

“You are right, sir. Usually, after we go berserk, it takes at least five days before we can move around again. After taking your pills, I was able to get up in just one day. The effect is remarkable, but on the battlefield, such weakness is as good as death,” Cain replied.

“Cain, could you show me the battle aura you cultivate? I suspect your weakness may be related to your cultivation method.” Comparing the minotaurs with other warriors of different races, Mo Fei suspected the flaw lay in the minotaurs’ battle aura techniques.

“Our battle aura has been passed down for generations, unique to our minotaur race. Since you wish to see it, I will not hide anything.” With that, Cain began circulating his battle aura.

Mo Fei placed a hand on Cain’s shoulder, and, with his spiritual sense, probed Cain’s body, observing the path of the aura. He discovered that the minotaur’s battle aura was extremely violent, focused solely on explosive power. The meridians had very few routes for circulating aura. During combat, the aura consumed could be replenished by the body’s recovery, but once berserk, all aura surged forth like a wild stallion, wreaking havoc through the meridians, causing severe damage and drastically slowing recovery.

Mo Fei’s pills, refined from rare herbs, accelerated the healing of Cain’s damaged meridians, which was why he recovered so quickly.

“It seems the only solution is to improve the circulation method of your battle aura. Cain, if you trust me, I can alter your technique. There may be unforeseen consequences—good or bad, I cannot say. Are you willing to try?” Mo Fei asked earnestly.

“Sir, I trust you. If there is a chance to change the fate of minotaur berserkers, I am willing to risk everything, even my life.”

Faced with Cain’s fervent expression, Mo Fei could not help but be moved. What he did not know was that minotaur berserkers, after losing control, were likely to cause large-scale casualties in cities. Thus, most human cities forbade minotaurs’ entry, and their people were forced to dwell in remote, barren lands.

The minotaurs’ existence was fraught with hardship—oppressed by other beastmen tribes and discriminated against in cities by humans and other races. In impoverished lands, they constantly faced famine and disease.

Cain, as a leader among the younger generation of minotaurs, was determined to change his people’s destiny. He dreamed that his race might one day inhabit a fertile homeland, enter cities freely like other races, and prove to the continent that minotaur berserkers were the mightiest warriors of all.

Thus, when Mo Fei offered the chance to change the weakness that followed berserk rage, Cain accepted without hesitation.

For a cultivator of the Golden Core stage such as Mo Fei, though his power was gone, his understanding and knowledge remained. To refine a crude cultivation technique was a simple task. In no time, Mo Fei taught Cain the improved method.

“Cain, this technique is adapted from your own. I cannot guarantee the results, so stay by my side for a while so I can monitor your progress,” Mo Fei instructed.

Cain immediately began practicing the new method. Though awkward at first—some pathways had never before been used—his talent and determination carried him through, and soon his training fell into rhythm.

“Excellent, Cain. Follow my instructions, memorize the new paths for your aura. I believe that, in time, the damage to your meridians from going berserk will lessen. Perhaps, one day, you’ll be able to maintain your berserk state at will.” Seeing how the new technique benefitted Cain, Mo Fei shared in his joy.

Mo Fei did not realize that by improving the minotaurs’ technique, he had made it possible for their berserkers to maintain their transformation at will—a change that would deeply alter the balance of power among the continent’s peoples and bring him no small amount of trouble in the future.

Yet even if he had known, Mo Fei would not have cared. For one as kindhearted as he, nothing was harder to bear than the oppression of the weak. If he could change the fate of the minotaurs, he would not hesitate for a moment!