Chapter 8: Accepting the Calamity
Chen Yan’s expression was grim.
Ever since he had learned the Cycles of Qi Fortune, he had found it endlessly fascinating. If possible, he would divine his fate eight times a day, if not more. Were it not for the fact that all mystic arts consumed vital energy, he might have indulged even further.
Just last night, he had meticulously calculated his fortune for this journey. The results had been crystal clear—smooth travels, no misfortunes. Yet the moment he boarded the plane, something felt off…
That could only mean—
Someone aboard was interfering with his fate!
Chen Yan drew in a deep breath. Gathering vital energy, he channeled it into his eyes and squinted, activating the Heavenly Eye Qi-Observing Technique.
What he saw made his scalp tingle.
[What the hell?! Where did all this dark aura come from?!]
Within the cabin, all the passengers seated in first class—regardless of age or gender—had faint, nearly imperceptible strands of dark aura curling above their heads. Even the flight attendants were not spared. The ominous wisps drifted through the air, their source unmistakably coming from the economy class section behind him.
Chen Yan’s heart gave a violent thud.
He rose swiftly from his seat and strode toward the rear of the plane.
Walking down the aisle, he found the same eerie phenomenon plaguing the economy class. Every passenger bore traces of that cursed black mist, each thread coalescing and flowing in one direction—toward a single person.
Chen Yan arrived at the last row of seats.
The flight wasn’t full. On the left side of the last row, only the window seat was occupied.
There sat a petite figure, bundled up in an oversized cotton jacket. Hood drawn low, head tilted downward, the person had curled up against the window, seemingly asleep.
Chen Yan’s Heavenly Eye flickered as he focused.
A dense, suffocating cloud of dark aura roiled above this person’s head, thick as a storm front. And worse—it was still accumulating.
He had found the source.
This person might as well have been wearing a talisman labeled “Walking Disaster”.
Chen Yan performed a quick calculation, fingers subtly tracing ancient formulas in the air. With this level of dark aura, a bloody calamity was certain. And as the ominous clouds continued to gather, this person’s misfortune threatened to drag the entire flight down with it.
His back grew cold with sweat.
He swiftly ran through his mental catalog of fate-altering techniques recorded in his sect’s manuals.
Unfortunately, the truly powerful techniques required both profound cultivation and the use of mystic artifacts—neither of which he currently possessed.
Then, an idea struck him.
A crude method. A desperate measure.
Among the Calamity-Breaking Methods, there was a lesser-known technique—one that did not remove misfortune entirely but could delay its full manifestation.
Accepting the Calamity.
Fate, whether good or bad, accumulated over time. When negative qi reached its peak, it crystallized into disaster. But if one suffered a controlled misfortune in advance, it could bleed off the excess energy, mitigating the worst effects.
Put simply: if a grand calamity was brewing, one could preemptively suffer a minor injury to offset it—akin to opening a sluice gate before a dam burst.
Chen Yan let out a long sigh.
No other choice.
His gaze swept the area one last time. Then, clenching his fist, he leaned in toward the hooded figure.
As he drew closer, he saw that the person was a young woman—her features delicate, her skin youthful and soft with an innocent glow.
Her face held no trace of seduction, but it had an undeniable charm—gentle, harmless, a true picture of innocence.
Chen Yan did not hesitate.
With a calm expression, he reached out and lightly patted her shoulder.
The girl, barely roused from her rest, blinked drowsily and mumbled, “Hm?”
She lifted her head, gazing up at him with sleepy eyes.
The next moment—
His fist met her face.
A sharp cry rang through the cabin.
“AHHH!!”
The impact landed squarely on the bridge of her nose.
A crimson stream gushed forth as she doubled over, clutching her face and letting out muffled whimpers of pain.
Chen Yan remained unmoved, his expression serene.
He never indulged in meaningless pity for women. Beauty or innocence—what did it matter to him? This was not his woman, nor was he willing to suffer calamity on her behalf.
Between allowing a stranger to suffer a nosebleed and dooming an entire plane, the choice was obvious.
As her blood flowed, Chen Yan saw the change immediately.
The ominous black clouds swirling above her head thinned noticeably.
And just as he had hoped, the intense sense of danger pressing against his own fate vanished.
Chen Yan exhaled slowly.
At the very least, there would be no further disaster until the plane landed.
Relief settled in his chest.
His eyes returned to the young woman before him—now curled up tightly, hands clasped over her nose as blood seeped through her fingers. Her wide, teary eyes were filled with terror as she stared up at him, inching away in fear.
“Y-You… uuh… who… who are you…?”
Her voice was soft, trembling.
Chen Yan squinted, remaining silent.
He had seen the debate online before: “If you punch an adorable girl, how long will she cry?”
Well, the answer was now confirmed.
She would cry for a long time.
Of course, he had held back. He hadn’t used his full strength.
Had he done so, her nose wouldn’t have merely bled—it would have shattered.
Still, a bloody nose was a small price to pay to ward off fate itself.
For now, the plane—and everyone aboard—was safe.
For now.
…
The commotion stirred the front-row passengers, drawing their gazes toward the disturbance. Murmurs of alarm quickly spread.
“What’s going on?!”
“A fight? There’s a fight happening!”
Yet, Chen Yan remained calm, his expression devoid of guilt. His fist had struck out not for mere aggression but for self-preservation. More than that, he had shielded the entire aircraft from peril and, as a passing gesture, saved this young lady, upon whom misfortune loomed like a storm cloud.
[I did a good deed, didn’t I?]
Chen Yan reassured himself of his righteousness. Just as he was about to offer a few words to ease the tension—
“Stay where you are!”
A sharp command rang out behind him. Instinctively, Chen Yan turned his head. “Huh?”
Before he could react further, an immense force crashed into him from behind. Stumbling forward, he barely had a moment to regain balance before a pair of powerful hands pressed him against the floor. Understanding the situation, Chen Yan chose wisdom over resistance. He raised both hands high in submission and lay flat without struggle.
“Don’t move!” barked a voice behind him. “I’m the aircraft security officer! Remain still!”
The comfort of his first-class seat, purchased at great expense, was now a luxury beyond reach.
The remainder of his journey found him in the last row of economy class, crammed into the innermost seat on the right. Beside him sat a plainclothes security officer, his expression unreadable, though clearly laced with suspicion. Essentially, an airborne constable.
Sitting was an ordeal, and to make matters worse, his hands had been bound before him, his thumbs locked within a pair of white plastic restraints—a simplified form of handcuffs. That would be his posture for the rest of the flight.
Across the aisle, a flight attendant approached the young lady, offering her water and medical cotton from the aircraft’s first-aid kit. Shortly after, she was escorted to another seat.
Judging by the way she was led forward, Chen Yan estimated she had been placed in first class.
[My seat?]
Throughout the cabin, whispers spread like wildfire.
“What’s wrong with this guy?”
“Why did he suddenly rush to the back and punch a girl?”
“Is he crazy or something?”
The murmurs did not escape Chen Yan’s notice. Since he had drawn Vital Qi into his body and stepped onto the path of cultivation, his senses had grown sharper. His hearing, sight—his very perception of the world—had far surpassed ordinary mortals.
Soon, two flight attendants wheeled a cart down the aisle, distributing beverages. When they reached Chen Yan’s row, their eyes betrayed an instinctual wariness and disgust, flickering toward him before hastily looking away.
Chen Yan pondered for a moment before speaking.
“Excuse me—”
Immediately, the security officer beside him tensed. His gaze sharpened as he nudged Chen Yan with an elbow. “What do you want? Don’t cause trouble.”
Chen Yan remained composed, turning instead to the nearest flight attendant. “How is she? Is she alright?”
The attendant hesitated. Then, without a word, she shook her head and quickly pushed the cart away.
Chen Yan glanced at the officer beside him but said nothing further. He closed his eyes and began meditating, his mind weaving through potential strategies for when the plane landed.
[Still not strong enough. If my mastery of Mystic Arts were greater, I wouldn’t have needed such a crude method of calamity-breaking.]
Returning home, he would have to intensify his training.
Then—
A subtle yet peculiar sensation coursed through him, like the gentle spring rain, so fine it resembled strands of silk, caressing and cleansing his body.
Vital Qi…
It was rising.
A realization struck him.
[What did I just do?]
His thoughts rewound to the moment of action, and a strange conjecture surfaced.
[Could it be… by preemptively dispelling her Disaster of Bleeding Light, preventing the greater calamity that would have followed, my own Qi Circulation was elevated?]
“Name?”
“Chen Yan.”
“Gender?”
“Male.”
“Age?”
“Twenty-two.”
Within the Jin Ling Prefecture Airport Police Office, Chen Yan now sat inside a sterile room, having been officially handed over to law enforcement. His hands remained restrained by those same plastic bindings.
Across from him, two officers conducted the interrogation, their pens scratching across their notepads.
What he did not know, however, was that in the adjacent room, the very girl who had taken his punch was giving her own statement.
Chen Yan had already devised his approach en route to the station.
Telling the truth? Absolutely out of the question.
Imagine explaining:
[“I practice sorcery! I foresaw that this woman bore an ill fate, one that might have doomed this entire flight. I struck her to offset the catastrophe.”]
[“I merely helped her Accept the Calamity, drawing a bit of blood now to spare a greater disaster later.”]
They’d haul him off to a psychiatric ward before he could finish the sentence.
Thus, his response was simple:
“I mistook her for someone else.”
One officer frowned. “Even if that were true, you still can’t assault people!”
Chen Yan nodded humbly. “Yes, Officer, I acknowledge my mistake. It was my fault.”
“Mistaken identity or not, you must have had a reason to hit her.”
Chen Yan hesitated before offering his explanation:
“I mistook her for my ex-girlfriend.”
The older officer furrowed his brow. “And that warranted a punch? What exactly happened?”
Without changing his expression, Chen Yan solemnly recounted:
“My ex stole the money I had saved for rent and used it to buy a wedding dress… for a concert. Then, after the show, she called me stingy and dumped me.”
The two officers stared.
Silence stretched between them.
Chen Yan didn’t feel like he was lying.
Was the story true? Absolutely.
…Just not about him.
After a long pause, the officers sighed and resumed their questioning.
“Your place of employment?”
“None. Resigned recently.”
“Any family to notify?”
“No parents. My grandmother was just buried a few days ago.”
“Would you be willing to apologize and compensate for damages?”
“Yes.” Chen Yan’s answer was firm, his tone earnest. “I am fully willing to apologize to the young lady in person and cover all medical expenses and losses.”
This novel is translated and hosted on Bcatranslation