Volume Two: The Mortal World Chapter Seventy-Five: Undercurrents

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Night. Starless, moonless, wild, and swept by heavy snow.

Beside a withered old tree, a fire burned in the silent, snowy darkness. The woman, shrouded in a tattered cotton coat and bearing a heavy sword, sat alone before the flickering flames.

She stretched out her hands, scarred and battered, toward the hazy warmth of the fire, her gaze cold and desolate.

“How can you trust?” she whispered to the flames, her voice hoarse.

“Trust that my father did no wrong all those years ago.”

“If even you won’t believe me, what use is it to prove myself to all of humanity?”

Her voice echoed through the snowy night, only to be smothered by the relentless snowfall.

Beneath the withered tree lay an old beggar, clad in rags, huddled against the trunk, his body buried beneath heavy drifts of snow.

Upon hearing the woman’s words, his eyes suddenly opened beneath the snow, peering through the cracks at the wavering fire and the slender figure cast in its light.

His perpetually clouded gaze brightened a little, shimmering as if tears glistened within.

“What comes after Enlightened Apertures?” came a voice, aged yet vigorous, reverberating through the snowy night.

The woman with the heavy sword looked toward the shadow behind the dead tree, surprise flickering in her eyes. Yet the snow and tree trunk hid him from sight; the figure remained motionless.

“What comes after Enlightened Apertures?” Sensing her distraction, the old voice repeated the question.

“Transcending Meridians,” she answered, inhaling deeply, her words solemn and clear.

“And after Transcending Meridians?”

“The Sea of Wheels.”

“And after the Sea of Wheels?”

“Universal Harmony.”

“Kill. Show me you can kill. The master of the Azure Lake Sect, an immortal at the Universal Harmony stage—you’ve already slain his disciple, now you must root out the weeds. Don’t be like me…”

The ancient voice fell silent for a moment, then spoke again, each word heavy as stone.

“Or calamity will befall family, friends, and all innocents.”

“Very well.” The woman turned her gaze toward the darkness, her eyes grim and resolute, unwavering.

The old voice fell silent, offering no further response.

Once more, the woman sat quietly before the fire, the wind laced with snow scattering her long hair. Her tresses danced in the air, veiling her face.

That face, rough and dirty yet retaining a hint of gentle beauty, lowered slightly, showing for the first time a trace of weariness and vulnerability.

Day broke. Upon the vast wilderness blanketed in white, the slim woman shouldered her heavy sword and, with the old beggar, strode toward the radiant sunrise.

Step by deliberate step, she placed her feet into the footprints left by the old beggar ahead of her.

The beggar did not look back, but suddenly spoke.

“There is no path. Following my footsteps leads nowhere.”

“And you are not the one. You are not of the Imperial Body; that sword should not be yours to bear.”

His words were weary, tinged with profound sadness.

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Yet the woman, her steps heavy behind him, gave no reply, continuing to follow the beggar’s tracks with unwavering earnestness.

Facing the morning sun, her snow-flecked face was lonely and stubborn, like a child.

…

While the old man and the young woman made their way toward a distant peak, three men in lavish robes descended from a mountain, heading toward them.

“What bad luck. Seventeenth just got recorded in the imperial immortals’ register, and now only days later he’s dead. Now we’re dragged down the mountain for this. Such a bother.” The burly man, built like an ox and carrying a massive fiery spirit sword on his back, spat into the snow and grumbled.

“Your task isn’t so bad,” said the tall, gaunt, and ugly man beside him, his voice mocking. “Seventeenth was just a country bumpkin before joining us, never seen the world. Maybe he died under some woman’s skirt. Find her, kill her as an example, and that’s done.”

“But we two were sent out by Master to search for some special physique, without any clear criteria. Those peasants are all the same—what special traits could they possibly have? How are we supposed to find anything?”

He glanced at the burly man, his tone sardonic.

“Honestly, Master’s temper has gotten worse these last years. Every day on the mountain, so many people killed—I wonder what he’s refining?”

“Especially lately. I hear some of our fellow disciples have disappeared mysteriously. Soon enough, someone says they were just sent out to gather herbs. Who knows which rumor is true?”

The burly man, called Sixth, shivered as he recalled something, fear evident in his body and voice.

“I heard that First Brother recently found a youth with extraordinary strength, able to tear tigers and leopards apart. Master was overjoyed, rewarded First Brother with a mid-tier spirit treasure. That’s a mid-tier treasure! Only First Brother owns one among us.”

The tall, ugly man spoke with envy, but when he mentioned their master, a hint of dread crept into his expression.

“But since Master got that monstrous youth, the killings on the mountain have increased sharply. And that’s likely why we’ve been sent out to find another special body—must be related.”

“I heard of that youth too. First Brother found him deep in the mountains, immense strength. First Brother was injured before he managed to capture him. They say his blood is as hot as fire—what kind of creature is he?”

Sixth murmured, his face showing signs of unease.

Then the third, a chubby man in fine robes who had been listening with a naive smile, spoke up.

“So, the mountain’s not peaceful lately. Even though this snowy winter makes traveling hard, perhaps it’s a good thing for us.”

“Besides, I’m the one who handles contacts below the mountain—I know the area well. Our mission isn’t urgent. Since we’re here, why don’t I take you two brothers somewhere to have some fun?”

“Haha, Fifteenth, you always know how to please people,” the tall man laughed, slapping Fifteenth’s shoulder. His fat cheeks quivered, his smile always gentle and foolish.

“Any good places around? I’ve been here before, but it’s poor, nothing worthwhile.” The tall man eyed him skeptically.

“Not much, but there’s a place called Li Family Village nearby. The village chief is capable, and despite the times, their village is thriving.”

“This year, their offering to the Ghost Sea was the most generous. There are a few pretty girls there too. If you’d like, we could stop by—give those mortals a chance to bask in immortal presence.”

Fifteenth smiled, his fat face quivering.

“Sounds good. Eleventh, let’s go together,” the burly man said, beaming.

“Let’s check it out. If it’s really good, we’ll stay a bit longer, give them more of a taste of immortality,” the tall man said, still sneering.

“Ha! Let’s go,” the other two laughed in agreement.

…

In front of the mountain cabin.

“What? You said three immortals suddenly arrived in the village?”

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“But I already paid this year’s offering, didn’t I?”

Outside the cabin, Li Han stood up abruptly at the table, tense after hearing Zhugan’s words.

“Don’t worry, Brother Li. Those immortals are just passing through, freeloading for food and drink,” Zhugan replied, his face calm. He picked up the stone bowl and took a deep drink before continuing.

“It’s not the first time the village has hosted such immortals. As long as we treat them well and stay cautious, it’ll pass in a few days. The pretty girls have already hidden themselves. It’s much like the previous times when immortals came to collect offerings.”

Li Han listened, sat back down, and quietly pondered, but his unease lingered.

“No, I still can’t relax. I’d better go back and check for myself.”

“No need, Brother Li. I just came to let you know. Besides, you’re no longer the village chief—Fang Da is in charge now. You can’t do much there.”

“And don’t forget, Ye and A’ru are sick and need your care.”

Zhugan glanced at A’ru, who played with wooden sticks inside the cabin, and at Ye Mingke, wrapped in a coat, leaning by the door, listening, his face pale.

Zhugan’s gaze flickered with apology when he looked at Ye Mingke.

But Ye Mingke only smiled gently and spoke softly.

“I’m much better these days. You don’t need to worry about me.”

“Well… let’s leave it at that.” Li Han sighed, looking at Zhugan seriously. “But remember, we’re not far from the village. If anything happens, you must let me know at once.”

“Don’t worry, Brother Li. I will,” Zhugan nodded in promise.

Li Han sat with Zhugan a little longer, then, his face heavy and mind troubled, returned to the inner room.

Today was a rare sunny day in this winter; no snow fell outside, and there was a faint sunlight.

Ye Mingke, long confined indoors, walked out to the stone table in the yard, sat down, and smiled as he asked Zhugan,

“Has Li Han always cared so much for the village?”

Zhugan, intending to apologize for having supported sending Ye Mingke away before, was surprised when Ye Mingke changed the subject, gently asking something else.

He paused, lowered his eyes, seeming to recall much, and slowly began,

“Not always. Brother Li’s family is the wealthiest in the village. The Li clan have been chiefs for generations. But his father died young, and Li Han, as a youth, resented his duty as clan head, pursuing immortality instead.”

“But after he returned from Yangjing with A’ru, he changed completely. Partly because of regret for not being near his mother at her death, partly, perhaps, because of A’ru’s mother.”

“Most men dread entering the Ghost Sea even once, but Brother Li has gone three times. Sometimes I feel he’s too devoted—almost as if he’s atoning for something.”

Zhugan finished, shaking his head as if pitying Li Han.

“Atoning?” Ye Mingke recalled Li Han’s words from the other day. He truly was striving to fulfill his duty, to atone.

But A’ru’s mother? He remembered Li Han mentioning during the Yangjing Sword Festival that it was his last year traveling south, still obsessed with seeking immortality.

From the cabin came Li Han’s upright voice reciting texts. Ye Mingke, turning instinctively toward the cabin, wondered curiously—

What could have transformed the youth once blinded by the pursuit of immortality into the man he is now?

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