Pandora Unchained - a Cultivation Progression Fantasy

The Kepler Manor was located on the outer rim of the Bloodwood Outpost, not far from the towering wall built entirely of demonic wood obtained from Bloodwood Forest. It was much larger than the lower-quality dwellings in its surroundings and had at one point been the governor's manor.

Thanks to huge investments from the guilds and corporations ten years back, the outpost had undergone a complete makeover. The Governor's Manor had changed locations, but the Kepler Clan had bought the old manor at a bargain.

Only three people lived in the Kepler Manor: Sorin Kepler, the master of the house; his butler, Percival; and his maid, Clarice. It was a small house, given the status of Sorin's family, but much larger than most in the outpost.

In Sorin's opinion, it was a complete waste to live in said house. He didn't need such a huge house for the three of them and would have been much more comfortable in smaller accommodations. But his family's obsession over face and reputation trumped his own desires for modest, so here he was, in a house he couldn't afford with a staff whose wages he couldn't afford to pay, working for a clinic that barely made ends meet.

"Young master, you've returned," greeted Percival as Sorin walked in. He was a forty-year-old man with black hair tied back in a simple ponytail. His clothes were old but well-maintained. He wore tailored black pants with a matching vest and a white shirt with lace on the neck. "My apologies, but we hadn't expected you so early. I can prepare you a spot of tea and some light snacks if you'd like."

"That's fine, Percival," said Sorin. "Be at ease. I just had some thoughts that I wanted to confirm in my study."

"I'll have the tea and snacks ready shortly," said Percival, ignoring Sorin's refusal.

The house was huge and had a total of twenty rooms, all lit by expensive mana lamps that delivered a yellow light that was easy on the eyes. The study was located between Sorin's room and the library, which contained hundreds of medical reference books and assorted research notes.

He walked behind his desk – an expensive thing made of sable oak, a rare spirit wood that kept the mind fresh and focused. He pulled a book on the reference shelf containing a small selection of reference books. A hidden compartment opened, revealing a safe that could only be unlocked via bloodline authentication.

It accepted a drop of his blood before popping open, revealing a precious golden tome. The book was called the Divine Medical Codex, and only highly-ranked members of the Kepler Clan were allowed to read it.

Sorin opened the cover to the first page, which contained a note and introduction by his family's founder, Sirius Abberjay Kepler. He was not the only author of the book but a major contributor.

Thanks to his ancestor's teachings and successful policies enacted by his many descendants, the Kepler Clan now held enormous influence in the medical community. Even politicians and major organizations would need to consider their opinions when deciding policies.

The Divine Medical Codex was a complete work that included a section on the human body, a section on cultivation, a section on ailments, and a section on treatment methods and medications. Sorin turned to a page illustrating the human body's meridian network. The twelve main meridians and eight extraordinary meridians were highlighted and described, along with 361 acupoints that were used both in medicine and cultivation.

Each cultivator was born with naturally open meridians. The more naturally open meridians one possessed, the greater the cultivator's talent. Sorin himself had been born with all twelve primary meridians naturally open. With the help of his father, he'd managed to open four of the eight extraordinary meridians, establishing an unshakable foundation for his future advancement.

Unfortunately, Sorin had yet to advance to the bone-forging realm when he received news of his parents' deaths. A few days later, he suffered an unfortunate 'accident' that destroyed his mana sea and delivered a fatal blow to his internal organs.

Since he belonged to a family of physicians, he was able to escape with his life, but his cultivation remained crippled, and his life expectancy was greatly diminished.

He was no fool. He knew the branch families were behind the incident. He was also certain that the Council of Elders knew as well. Alas, his parents were dead, and he was now useless. The elders had unanimously decided that his uncle, Reeves Mockingjay Kepler, would be the next head of the family.

But Sorin no longer cared about such things. It was all in the past. His life was ruined, and he accepted that. What he did not accept was that he was fated to die a useless wretch. He was determined to discover what had happened to his parents. If they were also the victims of his uncle's machinations, he would surely avenge them.

Balancing poisons is no longer an issue, thought Sorin as he reflected on the Ten Thousand Poison Canon. I've gone through the calculations several times, and the Divine Medical Codex Agrees. The main problem with cultivating the Ten Thousand Poison Canon lies in acquiring so many unique poisons. Stronger poisons are required for each cultivation realm, and these things aren't easily acquired even by master alchemists and physicians.

The second problem laid in the approach to cultivation. To Sorin's knowledge, cultivation was done from the inside out. A cultivator circulated mana through their naturally opened meridians to move ambient mana into their mana sea. By increasing the density of their mana, they were able to thicken their blood, thereby passively strengthening their organs, their flesh, and their bones in preparation for the next cultivation realm.

Each cultivation realm had ten cultivation levels. The first cultivation realm was Blood Thickening, followed by Bone Forging and Flesh Sanctification.

Blood thickening was the first step. By reaching the first level of blood thickening, one would officially be considered a cultivator. It should be noted that only one in ten people could cultivate, and among these people, most only had one or two meridian channels open.

Where the Ten Thousand Poison Canon confused Sorin was that it didn't mention how to circulate mana through one's meridians, nor did it mention the all-important mana sea. Instead of storing mana in one location, as every single other cultivation method Sorin had ever heard of did, the Ten Thousand Poison Canon relied on the physical body to store mana-infused poisons. This would directly thicken the blood, thereby granting the cultivator a large mana pool with the innate poison characteristic.

Most cultivation methods required a compatible set of unblocked meridians. The Ten Thousand Poison Canon was the exception to the rule. Did meridians not matter, or did it simply assume fully unlocked main meridians? Cultivating, according to the canon, might be suicidal for Sorin, given the state of his collapsed mana sea and his stagnated and damaged meridians.

There was also Sorin's physical problems to worry about. His internal organs were on the verge of failure and might not be able to tolerate even a perfectly balanced cocktail of poisons. His life expectancy of 3-4 months could easily turn into 3-4 hours. Cultivating the Ten Thousand Poison Canon might be the last thing he did.

It was well into the evening when Sorin heard a knock on the door. He put down his pen as Percival entered and brought in a plate of cold dinner. "My apologies for bringing it up so late, Mr. Kepler," said Percival. "I assumed you were fully conscious when you said you'd be right down for dinner. It's been a while since you were so immersed in a puzzle that you didn't pay attention to your surroundings."

"It's a puzzle, all right," said Sorin, accepting the plate of food. He shoveled root vegetables and garden greens into his mouth without tasting them, then pushed away the perfectly cooked pork chop because cutting it up was far too troublesome.

"Allow me, Mr. Kepler," said Percival, taking up the knife and fork and cutting the pork chop into small pieces.

"Please stop calling me Mr. Kepler, Percival," said Sorin. "Mr. Kepler is what you called my father. I might be sixteen, technically a man, but I'm not even half the man my father was at that age."

"Alas, decorum ties my hands, Mr. Kepler," said Percival, pushing over the plate. Sorin had no choice but to shovel down the pork under the butler's watchful eye. "Besides, I think you're devaluing yourself. Even with your condition, few one-star physicians possess even half your skill."

"I'm just a ticking time bomb," said Sorin. "A cripple on the last of his days. It won't be long now before I leave this world. Ten years later, I doubt there'll be anyone who remembers me." He closed his eyes and sank deep in thought. That was another thing to consider – his condition. Since he didn't have a lot of time remaining, why shouldn't he take a gamble?

"Percival?" said Sorin, opening his eyes.

"Yes, Mr. Kepler?" replied Percival, who'd yet to leave the room.

"Could you fetch me a few books from the library?" asked Sorin. "I'm looking for 'An Analysis of Fort Bloodwood's Flora and Fauna and their Demonic Mutations' and 'An Adventurer's Guide to Poisonous Herbs and Creatures.'"

Percival raised an eyebrow. "I take it you've run into a unique medical case, Mr. Kepler?"

"Something like that," muttered Sorin. "The local beauties have started using poisons to deter perverts and peeping toms. They have no idea what they're doing, so I'd like to prepare for the worst."

"I have to ask – why bother?" said Percival. "Lawrence's antics are well-known throughout the outpost."

"Because a doctor should have a caring and open heart," said Sorin.

"Your father would spank you for saying such a drivel," said Percival.

"Fine," said Sorin. "It's a puzzle. I'm interested."

"A much more reasonable answer," said Percival. "I'll be back in a jiffy."

Percival returned a short while later with the requested books and retired for the evening. As for Sorin, he stayed up late into the night. Calculating. Thinking.

I'm dead either way, aren't I? thought Sorin as he measured his options. I've only got a few months left to live. What can I even do with that?

Since he was at the end of his rope, he might as well gamble. And If his gamble paid off, those 3-4 months might become 30-40 years. He would also obtain the power he needed to get the answers he craved.

Having made up his mind, Sorin made his way down to the basement of the manor where the laboratory was located. What he was attempting was very dangerous, and any external attempts at saving him would greatly reduce his chances of success. He locked the door and then immediately got to work.

"Seven Star Lung Corroding Lily… Four Leaf Blood Purging Clover…" muttered Sorin as he looked through the glass jars and vials above his workbench. There were dozens of poisons in the manor's medical stores, but unfortunately, only two poisons, seven-star lung corroding lily extract and three flame ginseng powder, could be balanced between his yin and yang organs.

The seven-star lung corroding lily extract was useful in dissolving lung mucus that would otherwise prevent patients from breathing. As for the three-flame ginseng powder, it had various applications but was predominantly used to purge out harmful bacterium and demonic qi invasion in the large intestine.

Both poisons were not potent enough to enact the changes required by the Ten Thousand Poison Canon, but the text described a way around this. Sorin carefully measured portions of each poison and stirred them into liquified mana extract, a violet-blue liquid that could assimilate with virtually any material.

He waited as the beakers hissed and bubbled. The blue-violet liquids slowly changed color until each one was a different shade of sickly green and a fifth of its original volume. He then loaded 31 syringes made from mana-infused glass and one-star grade mana-tempered mithril. The seven-star poison required 11 injection points along the lung meridian leading down the arms, while the three-flame poison required twenty injection points that also ran along the arms, albeit through a different path.

Preparations complete, Sorin used liquified mana extract to trace a pattern over his body using a needle. Some spots were difficult to reach, but Sorin had dextrous hands; thanks to two opposing mirrors, he was able to complete the mysterious pattern illustrated in the Ten Thousand Poison Canon.

This is it, thought Sorin as he disinfected his acupoints. The point of no return. Whether he lived or died was up to fate. Regardless of success or failure, there would be no going back to his profession. There would also be severe political ramifications.

Sorin gritted his teeth as he injected poison into his left side using his right hand. He did the same to his right side with his left, making sure to balance the poisons properly.

His hands shook, but he forced them to remain steady. His body became a battlefield between hot and cold, yin and yang. His blood, which had lain dormant for the past three years, began to seethe with excitement.

The pain was excruciating, but Sorin was used to pain. He bit down on a leather belt and used his spiritual strength to maintain consciousness. His body twitched, and the two poisons invaded his body, compromising major organs and destroying significant portions of his flesh.

Little by little, he saw his odds of success grow slimmer as his body became a cesspool of fatal toxins. His heartbeat slowed, and he lost all feeling in his limbs. He felt cold. So cold, despite the ingredients burning his innards.

It was in this moment, when his life hung on by a thread that he realized how foolish he'd been. How could he, a cripple, possibly change his fate? A part of him wanted to give up, but fortunately, a much more stubborn part hung on for dear life. It was that same part that had pulled him through when his cultivation was destroyed, and his lifespan severely injured.

It was during that moment that the destruction came to an end, and the poison finally fused with his blood. His mana changed, and the combination of blood and mana surged through his body, nourishing his flesh.

Dead nerves regained their function, and muscles regained their strength. They greedily drank in the poisonous mana and incorporated it into his starving cells.

Mana continued to build up within his body until suddenly, a few blockages that had existed for the past three years collapsed. Mana surged through two of his dormant meridians. The two meridians in question were Sorin's lung and large intestine meridians. Mana flowed through these two organs and breathed life into their dead flesh.

With this sudden reversal, Sorin felt his body's condition improve for the first time in years. He recovered a portion of his lost strength, and no longer felt the fatigue weighing down on him like a suffocating blanket.

For the first time in three years, Sorin breathed in a proper breath of fresh air. All felt right in the world for approximately ten seconds, at which point his vision blacked out from overexertion. Sorin's exhausted body collapsed onto the cold stone floor of the laboratory as it continued strengthening itself and transforming.