Chapter Forty-Four: News of Loved Ones

Several more hours passed before Lord Liyang and the Divine Healer Baicao finally arrived in the Lujia Mountain Star Domain. This was the twentieth day since Lihao had been injured. The closer Lord Liyang drew to his grandson, the stronger the anxious pull of kinship became within his heart.

When Lord Liyang and Baicao entered the Hall of the Divine Healer at a hurried pace, accompanied by the welcome of many, the maids and servants at the entrance greeted them with utmost respect. Their first priority upon entering was to check on Lihao’s condition.

On a stone bed of black and white lay a newborn boy, quiet and still—this was Lihao. Divine Healer Baicao approached first, channeling law-forged power drawn from the very fabric of heaven and earth into Lihao’s body.

A faint frown formed between Baicao’s brows. Lord Liyang, sensing something amiss, grew even more anxious, but stifled his questions, not daring to disturb the healer’s concentration.

Only after a thorough and lengthy examination did Baicao step back and speak, “Brother Liyang, the child’s body is most peculiar.”

Lord Liyang’s worry deepened, but Baicao did not keep him in suspense. “There appears to be some strange, unidentifiable force infused within the child. It has not harmed his body; indeed, his wounds have improved greatly. The same force exists within his mind-sea.”

Here Baicao paused before continuing, “I have a suggestion—will you hear it, brother?”

“Speak freely,” Lord Liyang urged.

“The child’s condition has improved, but he is not yet healed. And with this mysterious power inside him, we know not how long recovery may take. If you are willing, leave him here with me. I can both treat him with elixirs and study his unusual state. I have never encountered such a case before; it may take months, years—who can say?”

Lord Liyang considered this carefully, then replied, “I am at ease leaving the child with you. Only, I fear I trouble you too much.”

“You needn’t be so formal!” Baicao laughed warmly. “He is as a grandson to me. I am delighted to care for him; it is no trouble at all.”

Lord Liyang thanked him deeply. Baicao replied again, “No trouble, none at all.”

From the moment Lihao arrived, Baicao felt an inexplicable bond with the child and was genuinely fond of him.

With that, Lord Liyang used his spiritual sense to enter Lihao’s mind-sea. What he saw was a gray, obscure landscape, almost indistinct. Lihao’s three souls and seven spirits seemed at once to be separating and yet bound together—a most bizarre sensation. After a fruitless inspection, Lord Liyang withdrew his senses.

He thought for a moment and said, “Since Lihao’s condition remains unclear, I’ll entrust him to you, brother. I’ll write to his parents to explain, then set out myself in search of similar cases in hopes of finding a cure.”

Baicao approved of this plan. After some brief discussion, he excused himself, “Then I shall go prepare the medicines.”

“Very well.”

Baicao fetched brush and ink for Lord Liyang to write his letter, then departed for the pill chamber to begin his work.

Lord Liyang wrote to his son and daughter-in-law in the Li Tian Star Domain, his script sweeping and powerful:

To my beloved Tian’er and daughter-in-law Rou’er:

On that fateful day, I arrived too late amidst the turmoil of the star domain. I found our grandson, Lihao, gravely wounded. In my rush to save him, I could not inform you and knew you would worry. Hence this letter.

Do not think me unfeeling; though I roam the cosmos, I keep watch over the domain from time to time. Now you are grown, and I wish to live freely, leaving affairs in your hands. The weight of the domain now falls to my son, while Lihao, though out of danger, must remain for treatment and will not return for now.

I have matters yet to attend and may not return soon.

Your father,
Yang

He addressed the letter: “To my son Li Tian and daughter-in-law Mo Rou.”

With the letter complete, Lord Liyang struck a seal, embedding the route to the Li Tian Star Domain and Li Tian’s information into the mind of a swift-flying great bird. With iron claws gripping the letter, the bird soared away toward its destination.

Lord Liyang omitted details of Lihao’s true condition, not wishing to trouble Li Tian and Mo Rou with excessive worry.

He then returned to the yin-yang cold bed where Lihao was recuperating, pondering what gift to leave for his grandson. After some thought, inspiration struck: “Come forth.”

In his hand appeared a divine halberd, a hundred feet long, its shaft shimmering in nine colors: red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, violet, black, and white—each color embodying a different power.

He murmured, “Reveal yourself.”

The halberd transformed into a colossal nine-headed dragon, which in turn became a dashing youth clad in nine-colored robes, standing respectfully before Lord Liyang.

The youth bowed. “Master, what are your commands?”

“I wish you to serve Lihao from now on. Any objection?”

“It would be an honor to follow the young master. I, Xiaojiu, am willing.”

This dragon, possessing nine heads, nine colors, and nine powers, was called Xiaojiu by Lord Liyang.

“Good. From now on, Lihao is your future master.”

Xiaojiu replied, “I obey, old master.”

Lord Liyang laughed, “So quickly I become the old master!”

Having long journeyed with Lord Liyang, Xiaojiu had grown familiar with his quirks and kindness, and simply laughed in return.

Lord Liyang then severed his spiritual connection to the dragon, forging a new bond between Xiaojiu’s soul and Lihao’s. Xiaojiu instantly merged into Lihao’s mind-sea, leaving a halberd-shaped mark between the child’s brows—a mark that lent Lihao a certain heroic air. From that moment on, Xiaojiu’s fate was tied to Lihao’s—should Lihao perish, Xiaojiu would perish as well; but should Xiaojiu fall, Lihao would suffer at most a wound to the spirit.

This casual decision of Lord Liyang’s would prove immensely beneficial to Lihao’s future. Xiaojiu, though over a thousand years old, was in dragon terms but the equivalent of a human youth of fifteen or sixteen—and yet possessed great power for reasons even Lord Liyang did not understand.

Originally, Lord Liyang intended to seal his cultivation methods and teachings in Lihao’s mind-sea, but decided against it, thinking it would be better to wait until the boy had recovered.

He instructed Xiaojiu through spiritual sense: “Unless Lihao faces mortal danger, do not help him. I wish for him to grow by his own efforts. If you shield him from every hardship, he will become a flower raised in a hothouse—never truly radiant. When he is not yet your equal in power, allow him to wield a portion of your strength only as needed.”

“Your intentions are wise, old master. Xiaojiu will remember.”

In truth, Xiaojiu needed no reminder: his own survival depended on Lihao’s, so he would protect the boy in crisis. But Lord Liyang, fearing overprotection, gave this instruction for Lihao’s benefit.

His affairs settled, Lord Liyang departed the Lujia Mountain Star Domain, wandering the cosmos in search of a cure for Lihao.

Meanwhile, a swift red-plumed divine bird streaked toward the Li Tian Star Domain, arriving in a flash before the grand Li Tian Hall. There, powerful guards blocked its way, so it perched atop a stone statue at the entrance, calling out, “Message, message, message…”

The guards dared not drive it away—it might bear vital news, and any delay could bring severe punishment, even death. They sent word inside.

Within the hall, Supreme Lord Li Tian sat alone, weighed down by grief—these days had left him gaunt and careworn. The entrance of a guard in crimson armor roused him from his sorrow.

The guard bowed deeply. “Reporting to the Supreme Lord, a red-plumed divine bird has arrived, constantly calling for a message to be delivered.”

“Let it come in,” Li Tian said absently.

The guard relayed the order. The other guards stood aside. The red-plumed bird understood, took the letter from its claws, and waddled in with comic solemnity. When it was close, it fanned its wings, sending the letter fluttering onto the table before Li Tian.

Seeing the address—“To my son Li Tian and daughter-in-law”—Li Tian’s heart surged with emotion; his hand trembled as he reached for the letter. Reading its contents, he was instantly revitalized, as if life itself flowed anew through his veins. The bird, seeing his reaction, stood dumbfounded, awaiting further orders.

Li Tian read the letter again and again, unable to look away, as if it contained the most beautiful scene in the world. Eventually, he remembered the bird and, full of gratitude, called out, “Attend me!”

A middle-aged attendant entered and bowed. “What are your orders, Lord?”

“Take the red-plumed bird and see it is well cared for.”

The attendant bowed and led the bird away. The bird, still dazed, followed him out.

Li Tian felt his burdens lift, his mind cleared and refreshed. Thinking of his wife’s recent exhaustion, he carried the letter to her chambers, saying mysteriously, “Rou’er, can you guess what good thing I’ve brought you today?”

But Mo Rou, lost in sorrow, had no heart for games. “What else could you possibly give me?” she asked without interest.

Seeing her distress, Li Tian did not prolong the suspense, but smiled apologetically. “News from my father and Lihao.”

Mo Rou responded with a quiet “Oh,” her manner unchanged. But then, in a sudden burst, she seized Li Tian’s arm, startling him. Her strange behavior puzzled him. “What’s gotten into you, Rou’er?”

Mo Rou, as if dreaming, pinched his handsome face and murmured, “I’m not dreaming, am I?”

Only then did Li Tian understand, finding her reaction both touching and funny. He laughed aloud.

Flushed with embarrassment, Mo Rou pounded his chest with her small fist and snatched the letter from his hand. Unfortunately, she struck his wound, causing him to grimace in pain. She rolled her eyes at him and scolded, “Serves you right.” In Li Tian’s eyes, she was more adorable than ever.

Mo Rou read the letter over and over with utmost care. At last, she exhaled deeply, visibly eased. “Thank goodness—Lihao is safe.”

Then she added, “I only wish we knew when Father and Lihao would return.”

Li Tian, too, longed for this answer and comforted her, “I’m sure Father and Lihao will be back before long.”

Yet this was but their own hopeful longing. In truth, Lord Liyang’s hurried departure would mean many years would pass before he saw Lihao again.

Time passed mercilessly; five more hours slipped by. The rare herbs Baicao had ordered were delivered to the pill chamber in the Hall of the Divine Healer, and Baicao began the arduous journey of concocting medicine for Lihao’s wounds.

This was no ordinary task. The herbs were ancient and the method complex. After a grueling eighty-one hours, the elixir was finally complete—a feat of endurance, for every wasted moment risked grave consequences for Lihao’s recovery.

From his very first moments, Lihao had never so much as cried or laughed before being struck down by calamity. His fate was indeed bitter.

With the elixir finished, Baicao—disheveled and exhausted—went to the treasury and gathered hundreds of rare herbs, placing them in a cauldron, then returned to the pill chamber to brew a nourishing tonic. After twelve hours, he cooled the liquid in a small wooden tub until it was just warm.

All was ready. Baicao hurried to the yin-yang cold bed, placed the elixir in Lihao’s mouth, shielded the boy’s heart with his own power, and immersed him in the medicinal bath.

Under the potent effects of the medicine, Lihao’s wounds began to heal. The fragments of his soul slowly knit together, his body growing ever stronger. Yet the strange inner force persisted. Whereas others would not see changes in their mind-sea until achieving high cultivation, Lihao’s mind-sea seemed to be affected by something external, though it was somehow intimately bound to him. Rather than harming him, it had altered his constitution for the better.

Baicao, unaware of the full extent of these changes, only sensed a peculiar power at work in Lihao’s body and mind-sea—a force that had arisen from the rules of the yin-yang cold bed itself, where the child had lain since his injury. This force alternately fused with and separated from his body and mind-sea, rendering them many times tougher than an ordinary person’s.

The yin-yang cold bed was a treasure Baicao had discovered by fortune; he knew only that it was a supreme healing artifact.

Each day, Baicao bathed Lihao in medicinal brews, and so the days passed—Lord Liyang did not return.

Lihao’s wounds, after long perseverance and countless baths and elixirs, were not fully healed until he was three years old. From the age of four, at Baicao’s instruction, Lihao began to rise early to gather herbs, train his body, and study all manner of knowledge.