All around him, Arthur could feel his companion and teammates moving around. Setting up for the evening, sortieing into the surroundings to deal with threats and hunt down monsters. Setting up traps in a few cases, just in case some of the threats chose to try them late at night. Getting tents and a small fire going.
He sensed Mel talking to the second group that had come up their way, drawn by the fire reflecting off cloudy skies and luring them in like flies to a trap. Except, of course, they were not about to kill anyone. Just give them good warning not to bother others, trade a few pointers and maybe ask for a little gift for clearing the way.
Nothing at all questionable. Arthur could sense them all, but his eyes were closed as he split his mind across two different and difficult scenarios.
The first was the flow of energy coming from his clasped hands on his tucked knees as he sat in a meditative pose, as he drew in the Refined Energy from the monster stone. Replenishing energy as he worked it through his meridians and shoved it into his core, building up the reserves there.
And the other, a drawing of such energy out. Gradually, because he was more focused on the use of the energy. Wielding the Refined Energy to his own purposes, in combating the inflamation and deadness in his limbs, the poison that had swept through his body and was trying to stop his breathing.
Not that it was that bad - he hadn't been injected with enough venom that it was impossible to breathe. Just hard. The natural healing functions of the Tower, of his healing technique was working in his favor; removing the poisons. However, it was in fact, working against Arthur's own desires. Because what it was doing was forcing him to try to keep up, to solve the issue and increase the techniques effectiveness against poisons and toxins by altering the flow of the technique itself.
He could see what was happening, and a study in basic biology had helped. Blood pumped and carried the poison through his body, where the chemicals leached into his body and sat there, unwilling to seperate themselves. Causing trouble with each breath, each heartbeat. Further down, deeper within his body, the liver and kidney's worked; breaking down the poisons, cleansing them from the body. Only a small portion at a time, normally.
Normally.
He could feel the technique bolstering the energy, washing the toxins away. Could feel his heart, beating faster than normal, washing blood over and over again the infected area, trying to extract and dilute the poisons even as it dragged them to other portions of his body. He could feel cells and chemicals and Tower energy warring against the foreign chemicals, breaking them down in the very parts they infected.
Moment by moment, Refined Energy and Tower Energy, working together to heal him. He understood now, why the healing technique needed Refined Energy in an active mode, whereas it subsisted on Tower Energy every other moment. In the passive mode, in the background, it just made his altered body's method of healing more effective. Opening up channels, increasing the flow and refinement of the energy that his modified body managed.
On an active level, however, the Refined Energy pounded through his veins and arteries and meridians, pouring through his body and soaking it in. It was like the turbo-charged version of plain Tower Energy, throwing his body into overdrive in its haste to heal things. Patching and regenerating without co-ordination or consideration of what actually needed renewal.
Each level, thus far, had him refining this use of energy. Fixing it, by altering the amount of energy required, improving the overall process of improvement. This time around though, he was trying something different, something he had a feeling was an entirely different step.
He was guiding the move of energy on a minute level. Not just shoving it into a hand or arm or a general wounded area and letting the background processes of the technique work, letting his body close open cuts and scab over before skin and scars formed. No, what he did now was the equivalent of attempting to redirect the energy on a minute level, to pull the portions of his body that worked best at clearing out these toxins, the entirely unnatural healing processes of the Tower energy and amping those up.
It was difficult. Kind of like threading a needle, except you were doing it with gloves on and at full hands-length distance. While watching yourself through a mirror.
Which was all the crazier, that he was doing it with half his mind. But he had picked up all these Traits, his ability to split his mind, Sticky Energy, Fast Learner, all of the various methods to speed up how fast he learnt. He would be damned if he didn't make the most of it, even if slipping occasionally meant he stabbed himself in the finger with the needle and did the spiritual and physical equivalent of pricking himself with a dagger. A very thin and sharp dagger.
That was, of course, the reason why he was shirtless and sweating. Not just sweat or the various toxins that made the air around him curdle, but also because of the occassional upwelling of blood. It hurt, but the advantage of a poison that dulled ones senses, especially of the body, was that it made for a very, very good painkiller.
Better even than morphine. Which Arthur had only tried once, after he'd been hit so hard in a sparring match that he'd damaged his liver permanently and had been peeing blood for weeks afterwards. Oh, and been sent to the hospital. Though that had also been for the various other bruises and cracked bones and ribs.
Sparring was serious business - when they were allowed to go hard.
Good times. Old times. Entirely different from now, where he was once again priming the energy within his body, trying to make the thread go through the needle, and why did he want to say needle through thread and aaargh! He broke out, spitting and coughing, blood leaking from his mouth, energy still redirecting through his body as he pulled it from the stone.
"Oh, that's why." His chest ached, his lungs ached. It felt like he'd been stabbed in the chest, and in that sense, he was the thread being stabbed by the needle of his own energy.
"Boss?" Yao Jing, leaning carefully by the side next to him asked, carefully. "You good?"
"No." Carefully removing one hand, he wiped at his face, cleared the blood and then took the cloth from Yao Jing to do a better job. Handed it back and slipped hand back into position so that he could continue to draw energy without interruption. "This sucks."
"And we proud of you, boss!" Yao Jing said, cheerfully. He even went so far as to give Arthur a thumbsup.
A slight snort escaped Arthur before he dove back into his body. Better to stay focused, to try. He had, maybe an hour, of practise left. After that point, his body would have cleansed enough of the poisons involved, there was nothing left to heal. And while there might be something to be said about practising, even when there was nothing to practise against...
He just wasn't that much of a masochist.