Omake: Jiang Chen in the Infirmary
Well Jiang Chen thought to himself This sucks. And indeed, as he lay there, on the infirmary bed, in the Red Dew Sect's great Healing Hall, bandages around his arm, torso, and legs, it could be confirmed that his present circumstances "sucked". After his moderate success with his hunting party, Jiang Chen had grown confident in his sword arm, believing his moderate skill, combined with the gifts of the Honoured Elder of the Sect, would easily be enough to carry him through against the minor Spirit Beasts he'd encounter while guarding the wood cutting Mortals. How wrong he was.
In truth, it was his own fault, not truly listening to his fellow disciples as they described their experiences. Culling the Spirit Beasts that dwelt within the forest was nothing like facing the concentrated might of the forest itself, even the Soldier Realm Elk that had chased Jiang Chen and his companions could scarcely compare to the sheer overwhelming volume of attacks he had faced that day. In the end, all he could do was thank the Heavens that he still drew breath, and correct his mistake. The first place to start? Training.
Fierce as the Forest was, it was not insurmountable, as his fellow disciples proved, and so, should he hone himself as a true disciple of the Red Dew Sect, he should be able to make it through unscathed. As was right and proper. And so, in the plane of his minds eye, Jiang Chen threw himself back, remembering as much detail of the battle as he could muster. The first root came for him, he calculated its trajectory, 37 degrees downward, step half a pace to the right, raise sword 17 degrees upwards, Parry. The second, much the same, 48 degrees upward, on path toward throat, jump back 67 centimetres, position blade at 107 degree angle, Chop. Over, and over, and over, mathematical formula soared through his mind, calculating optimal angles from which to attack and defend, but as he processed this data, the number of roots grew.
49 degrees, sideways, raise swor- 37 degrees, diagonal, leap- 29 degrees dow- Quickly, the number of roots and branches swinging for him began to overwhelm him, he remembered his fellow disciples and his seniors, stepping up to his defence, fending off attacks that should surely have dealt him most grievous injuries, even as he did the same for them. Not good enough. 42 degrees, 38 degrees, 90 degree thrust, sidestep with sword at 112 degree angle he calculated, barely avoiding two roots spearing towards him as he deflected a third with his blade, speeding up his calculations through the use of shorthand, taking more and more detail into account in as small a span as he could manage in this mental battle dome, when suddenly, he heard a great cracking noise. A mix of memory and instinct caused his mental self to try and hurl himself out of the way, but in the space of his mind, the creature was too big, too vast to escape. A solid wall of formerly living wood fell upon him, the memory of his bones breaking as bark scraped his skin raw scoring across his mind. And in the end, the only thought in Jiang Chen's mind was this: Now, how do I get out of this next time?
Running the calculations in his head, Jiang Chen could not see a way out from the felled titans mass, not with his current speed. Whatever angle of motion, whatever direction, however much force he put behind each step, he could not imagine himself escaping from the falling lump of wood. So, if he could not go around, what was there to do? As Jiang Chen lay there, in his infirmary bed, contemplating, his eyes glanced over to where he kept his sword. He had been allowed to keep it close by, sheathed, of course, but as he did so, an image ran through his head. The blade, dancing in the light as it did whenever he drew it. If I cannot go around he thought Then I shall go through. In his mind, Jiang Chen ran the math. The first calculation did not work, halted by the fictitious titans oaken skin, nor did the second, the third, the twelfth, the thirtieth, the hundredth, and so on, but each calculation was closer. In his mind, the blade bit deeper into the titans wooden flesh as it fell, deeper, deeper, carving a path to Jiang Chen's freedom, until finally, after 4378 attempts, hours of lying in his infirmary bed and simply running the numbers, Jiang Chen solved it. He could see it, in his mind, the steps, the position, the target, everything he needed, everything he should have done, to defend against a seemingly unavoidable blow. In his mental space, he saw himself raise the blade, anchor his feet, and cut, the angle just right to carve out enough of a space in the woody body for him to avoid the shattering of his bones. Next time, he thinks to himself, next time.