Volume Two: The Mortal Realm Chapter Seventy-Seven: The Origin of Calamity

Never before had Bamboo Pole realized how slippery and yielding the snow could be; his strength seemed to vanish beneath him, and he found himself unable to run as fast as he wished. Still, he had to move—faster, ever faster! Frantic with anxiety, he tore across the snowy ground, falling countless times from his reckless haste and nervousness, but each time he tumbled, he scrambled back to his feet with hands and knees, resuming his desperate flight.

He was vaguely aware of the notice seeking those with unusual abilities that had been posted the previous day, but he had no desire to do the bidding of those so-called immortals and had paid it little mind. It hadn't even occurred to him that Ye Mingke might be involved. Least of all did he expect that Fang Wu was not just a coward, but a fool.

Perhaps in Fang Wu's eyes, as mere mortals, none of them dared defy the immortals—especially when their own lives were not directly threatened or they were not driven to utter desperation. Even Li Han, before returning from the Sea of Mists, had been just as timid and deferential toward the immortals who came to demand offerings, never daring to resist.

But Fang Wu fundamentally misunderstood Li Han. Li Han did indeed fear the immortals, but not out of fear of death. It was because he had always been the leader of his people; his fear sprang from worry that his own rashness might endanger those he wished to protect, that he might fail the burden he carried on his shoulders.

But now, Li Han was no longer the headman of Lijiazhuang. Would he still yield? Would he be willing to send his benefactor into that so-called Immortal Abode—which was, in truth, a demon’s lair? Everyone knew the fate awaiting mortals dragged up the mountain, did they not? The missing people from the villages, the corpses carted down the immortal mountain each day along with the refuse, the whispered tales of horror and mystery that circulated in secret.

Li Han would not give in—not easily, at least.

If disaster struck them without warning, survival would be almost impossible. That was why Bamboo Pole needed to warn them as soon as possible. Perhaps they could still find a way out; at the very least, they might have a chance to flee in advance.

And then there was Brother Ye, to whom he owed so much.

The elder brother Li who had cared for him all these years could not die, nor could Brother Ye, who had saved his life many times.

A thousand tangled thoughts flashed through his mind, grotesque and terrifying possibilities flickering before his eyes, but all he could see ahead was the endless whiteness of snow.

At last, within that sea of white, the familiar wooden cottage appeared. He did not slow for a moment, barreling straight into the courtyard’s wooden gate, which splintered beneath his impact. Stumbling and staggering, he burst into the yard.

Ye Mingke, who had been sitting in the courtyard, leapt up at the crash. Turning, he saw Bamboo Pole’s anxious face as the young man, carried by his own momentum, pitched face-first into the snow.

“What’s wrong, Bamboo Pole? What happened?”

“Brother Ye, you have to go! The immortals are coming to take you!”

Ye Mingke hurried over to help him up, but before he could, Bamboo Pole raised his head and shouted, his voice urgent and his face contorted with fear.

“Which immortals?” Ye Mingke, still struggling to comprehend, asked.

“The Canglan Sect immortals—the three who are in the village!” Bamboo Pole gasped for breath before continuing.

“Why?” Ye Mingke felt a chill run through him, unable to grasp what was happening.

“It’s Fang Wu. Yesterday, the immortals posted a reward for anyone who could help find someone with innate extraordinary abilities. Fang Wu, wanting to avoid ever having to enter the Ghost Sea again, betrayed you.”

“Brother Ye, you mustn’t go! The immortals in the so-called Immortal Abode are worse than demons. No ordinary person taken there has ever returned.”

Still panting, Bamboo Pole forced himself to blurt out the whole story in a single breath.

Disaster had struck without warning; Ye Mingke, upon hearing Bamboo Pole’s words, could not help but clench his fists, the hairs on his neck standing on end.

Having dealt with cultivators in the Sea of Mists, he knew all too well how little they valued human life.

Moreover, Li Han had told him in detail about the severity of the immortal scourge in the current Great Xia Dynasty. He could well imagine the peril he now faced.

“Brother Ye, you, Brother Li, and A Ru must run now! The reward notice said that failing to report such knowledge is a serious crime. If the immortals can’t catch you, they’ll vent their wrath on him instead,” Bamboo Pole said anxiously.

“But…” Ye Mingke closed his eyes and took a deep breath to steady himself, then opened them and said, “He’s not here. He and A Ru went up the mountain to gather firewood and haven’t returned.”

“What should we do? The cottage is just over a small slope from the village. The immortals might be coming in sedan chairs; even if they’re slower than me, they’ll be here in one or two quarters of an hour at most.” Bamboo Pole’s face turned deathly pale.

“There’s more. Bamboo Pole, failing to report is a crime, but coming to warn us is an even greater one. Does anyone know you came here to tell us?” Ye Mingke gripped his shoulder, looking at him gravely.

Bamboo Pole felt as if he had plunged into an ice-cold abyss; his heart thudded wildly.

He stared at Ye Mingke, his voice hoarse and trembling.

“Fang Wu knows.”

Of course Fang Wu knew; he was the one who had told him. Upon hearing the news, Bamboo Pole had thought only of Li Han and Ye Mingke, forgetting entirely that he too was implicated.

“I have to go back—take my family and flee into the mountains.”

Shocked at first, Bamboo Pole forced himself to calm down, muttering the words over and over.

“Go, then, now. Don’t worry—I’ll find Li Han, and we’ll leave together,” Ye Mingke decided at once.

“All right, I’ll go now. Brother Ye, take care of yourselves!”

Bamboo Pole lingered no longer, cast Ye Mingke one last look, then turned and ran out of the courtyard.

Once he had left, Ye Mingke swiftly entered the cottage, packing up belongings—his own, as well as Li Han and A Ru’s—and stowing them in a bundle with the sword case Uncle Jian had left him.

He armed himself with what little he had: a wooden sword and a small knife. But he might soon face the most terrifying pursuit and danger yet.

He scanned the room for anything else that could serve as a weapon.

He had hoped to find the hatchet he knew so well, but Li Han had taken it. His gaze finally fell upon a hunting longbow and quiver hanging behind the door.

He had grown up in the wilds near the small town and, though not skilled, had some experience with bow and arrow.

Time was of the essence. He took down the longbow and quiver.

Li Han’s family was one of the wealthiest in the village; the longbow felt heavy and solid in his hands, forged from the finest steel.

With his bundle and weapons on his back, Ye Mingke stepped into the courtyard and looked around. He returned to the house, brought out the kettle and teacups that had just been used, and set them neatly on the table in the courtyard.

He then spotted the broken latch that Bamboo Pole had splintered and kicked it into a snowdrift in the corner to hide it.

Next, he closed the door carefully behind him, as if he were simply stepping out for a stroll after enjoying tea in the courtyard.

He hoped those who came in pursuit would assume they had simply missed them at home and wait here in ambush, giving them more time to escape.

He glanced left and right at the doorway, quickly sweeping away Bamboo Pole’s footprints, then left a clear trail of his own, leading away from the direction Li Han had gone, his prints extending toward the woods.

Afterward, he followed the faint traces Li Han had left in the snow, treading without a sound. Having mastered Sword Nine’s “Wave-Stepping,” he could walk upon water—and just as easily leave no trace in the snow.

He needed to mislead the pursuers, so that even if they did not wait at the house, they might still follow the wrong trail.

As he erased Li Han’s footprints nearby, he hurried after the faint trail into the forest.

He activated his “Spirit Eye”—his name for the heightened awareness he had cultivated. Though he had never formally learned the art of tracking, it allowed him to find Li Han’s faint prints with ease.

He glanced at the sky, his gaze somber.

Dusk was falling. At any moment, Li Han might return to the cottage, and the immortals could find it just as quickly.

...

Out on the wilds, many young and sturdy men, faces flushed and weary, struggled through the snow, hunched beneath the weight of palanquins.

Three large sedan chairs, each carried by eight men, sped smoothly through the snow.

One palanquin’s curtain was lifted, revealing an ugly, languid face, eyes half-open as if still drowsy—the tall, gaunt immortal, still embracing a garishly adorned woman at his side.

“Hey, Fifteen.”

He called to another palanquin, whose curtain was quickly drawn aside to reveal the plump immortal’s smiling, round face.

The thin immortal smirked, his words laced with mockery.

“Well now, Fifteen, dragging us all out here in this freezing weather—surely you don’t believe that just because some ignorant peasant mentioned a strong young man, we’ve really found someone with innate supernatural abilities?”

“Such people are rare. Even if that boy really can tear tigers apart with his bare hands, as the peasant claims, it’s probably not an inborn gift—he might simply have learned some petty martial skills.”

“That wouldn’t be the kind of person we’re seeking. Besides, the youth our senior brother found—the one who earned a mid-grade spiritual treasure from our master—was more than just strong.”

“You’re quite right, brother,” the fat immortal replied smoothly, his smile unfaltering. “Still, since we’ve got a lead and it’s not far, there’s no harm in taking a look. Who knows, we might get lucky. If you’re truly tired of the journey, senior brother, you’re welcome to return to the manor alone. I’ll go on by myself.”

“Haha! That’s right, Eleven—if you don’t want to come, go back by yourself. But if we do catch an extraordinary one, all the credit will be Fifteen’s. You up for that?”

The burly, towering immortal lifted his curtain, fanning the flames.

“Hmph, I was just bored of sitting indoors. I came along to see what nonsense you lot would get up to,” the thin immortal sneered, turning his head away.

Just then, the palanquins halted. Fang Wu hurried over from the front of the procession.

“Honored immortals, the wooden cottage where the strong youth lives is just ahead,” he said obsequiously, bowing and pointing forward.

The three immortals looked up and saw, not far away, a quiet wooden cottage with its doors tightly shut.