Forming Good Karma

Qi WuHuo listened intently, leaning forward unconsciously, then took a few more steps, skirting the rock face. The full moon hung high in the sky, moonlight flowing down like water, and the view before him suddenly opened wide—the poet had come into sight.

Beneath the round moon, atop a blue stone, an old man in a purple robe sat cross-legged, white-haired and white-bearded but full of spirit. A gourd hung at his waist, a hint of a smile at the corner of his mouth, and he was reaching out to beckon him over.

Near the winter night, he encountered an old man in the mountains.

It could be a lost traveler, but also a demon in disguise. Qi WuHuo pressed his lips together, his left hand gripping the spot where his backpack rested, his right hand pressing down at his waist, where a small, sharp dagger was sheathed.

Growing up able to fend off the bullies in town couldn't rely solely on book knowledge.

He stepped forward and said, "It's already late, almost winter, and the mountain is especially cold. By the Hour of the Ox, it'll freeze a man to death. Why is the old man still lingering here?"

The boy's movements naturally didn't escape the many [Immortal Learners] around.

The hidden birds, beasts, and spirits nearby were nearly scared out of their wits. The old man before them was clearly someone of status and power, having set up an incredibly subtle spell here, drawing in countless spirits to preach the Dao. Though the spirits didn't know his identity, they were all deeply respectful.

This boy had somehow barged in and was so bold.

Beside them, a White-Forehead Tiger covered its mouth with a paw, eyes wide like a worldly housecat, utterly stunned. A newborn calf doesn't fear a tiger—was this child afraid of nothing?!

The old man, however, didn't seem bothered. He stroked his beard with a slight smile, then pointed at his leg and said:

"My home is in the west of the Capital City. I came here to visit relatives and friends, saw the mountain's scenery was beautiful, and went up to enjoy it. Before I knew it, I lost track of time. When I hurried down, I misstepped and hurt my leg."

"No one ahead, no road behind—I could only sit here for a while, make some noise, and hope some woodcutter or mountain traveler hadn't gone down yet, to hear me and lend a hand."

"Otherwise, with the snow sealing the mountain today, I'm afraid I'd die up here, eaten by beasts."

This joke sent a shiver through all the monsters on the mountain. Qi WuHuo looked and saw that, under the moonlight, the old man's leg indeed seemed injured. He lowered his guard a little, stepped forward to examine the wound, and found it felt like real flesh and blood—a human, no doubt.

Seeing he was an elderly man, most of his hesitation faded. He knelt slightly, letting the old man extend his injured leg, pressed and checked it gently, then sighed in relief. "Good, good—no damage to the bones. Apply medicine to the wound and rest, and it should recover in about a month."

First, he set the old man's bone, then took out dry rations and a bamboo tube of clear water for him to eat and drink. The old man smiled and said, "Little brother, do you know medicine art?"

Qi WuHuo helped bind the injured leg with cloth strips, not looking up, and replied:

"Five years ago, during the great disaster, I fled and traveled with a gentleman for a period of time. He taught me a few things."

The old man's expression shifted slightly. "So he was your teacher?"

"Where is he now?"

Qi WuHuo paused in his movements, then answered:

"When we passed through Bing Prefecture, we accidentally fell into the Demon Kingdom. At the time, hundreds of thousands of displaced people were wandering. Ghostly Demons set up [Marketplace] stalls by the roadside, selling people as meat. To pass through the demon checkpoint, you had to offer a hundred catties of 'Meat Produce.' He walked into the marketplace himself and traded for my release."

"He said: 'The young shall live.'"

The old man's face grew more somber, then he suddenly felt his leg tighten—Qi WuHuo had bound his injured leg firmly. The boy let out a small sigh of relief, looked up, and smiled. "That should do it, old man—your leg is fine for now. But it's getting late, and there might be heavy snow in the next few days."

"When the snow melts, the mountain gets bitterly cold. Even black bears find a place to hole up and sleep. If you don't mind, old man, why not stay at my place for a while until your leg heals? Or I could carry you down to the town below. It's remote, but there's an inn where you can rest."

The old man stroked his beard and smiled. "I feel quite fated with you, little brother."

"If you don't think an old man like me would be a bother, I'd very much like to spend more time with you."

So Qi WuHuo looped his backpack with a rope, hung it around his neck, set it in front of him, crouched down slightly, let the old man climb onto his back, and then stood up.

He often came and went through the mountains, chopping wood and carrying loads—his physique was actually quite good. Carrying an old man was nothing; he still moved swiftly.

The earlier night fog was still thick, but now Qi WuHuo could see it too.

The old man lowered his eyes slightly, wanting to test his character, so he didn't let the fog disperse. Instead, he made it deeper, making the mountain path seem treacherous, and gradually increased his own weight.

After ten steps, Qi WuHuo still carried him like an ordinary old man.

After twenty steps, he felt like a thirty-year-old strong man's weight.

By the time he reached over a hundred steps, it was almost like carrying a stone statue, just barely reaching the limit of Qi WuHuo's strength—exhausting but still bearable. Qi WuHuo's pace slowed gradually, but he never stopped.

The night finally deepened.

As winter approached, the mountain beasts went mad with hunger, needing to store enough fat to survive the harsh cold. The sky was a deep blue, tree shadows layered thickly, and the howling of wolves echoed around them, seeming to draw near.

Most ordinary people would have been trembling in fear.

Qi WuHuo's breathing was ragged, but his steps remained steady. His right hand dropped to the dagger at his waist. Aside from that, the sweat-soaked clothes and the heat rising from his neck were the only signs of his immense physical strain.

The old man nodded in quiet approval.

Suddenly, Qi WuHuo spoke in a low voice. "Old sir, when we first met, I reached for my dagger; then I invited you down the mountain—both were a bit presumptuous. I hope you don't mind. I smelled something like a demon, so I was worried."

The old man feigned surprise. "A demon?"

Qi WuHuo said, "Yes."

The old man asked, "You can smell demons?"

Qi WuHuo paused, then replied:

"If you've seen enough demons, you can sort of smell them."

The old man said nothing. Connecting it to the earlier Demon Kingdom and great disaster, he knew this was hardly a memory anyone would willingly recall.

He suddenly felt that testing his character like this was pointless.

Wasn't this boy's nature as clear as the bright moon?

He sighed inwardly and simply dispelled the spell.

Qi WuHuo did not notice the old man on his back suddenly grow lighter.

A strange, wondrous sensation flowed into his body, smoothing over the many hidden injuries left by that great calamity. Qi WuHuo felt his meridians clear in an instant, yang energy rising from the soles of his feet, his spent strength restored in a single breath. He looked up—the night fog had dispersed, and faint lights could be seen ahead on the path.

Qi WuHuo let out a relieved breath and said cheerfully:

"Elder, my town is just ahead."

With that, his steps quickened, and he carried the old man down the mountain.

The moonlight was bright above, and the young man strode boldly. Traveling through the mountains at night was normally an extremely dangerous affair, but in places unseen by mortal eyes, a host of Spirit Beasts stood guard, driving away Ghostly Demons. Silent and soundless, they moved like an honor guard, solemn and majestic. A Spiritual Fox bore a candle in front, and a Fierce Tiger pressed its claws behind.

The starving wolf packs and wild beasts dared not approach. The wandering souls and lingering ghosts gathered by the mountain's yin energy did not dare draw near.

The Mountain God of this region, out on his nightly patrol, was at ease and carefree. But when he saw the host of Spirit Beasts traveling by night from afar, his eyes bulged and he was terrified, retreating over a hundred li. When he turned back, he was still within the range of that mist, with no road ahead and no path behind. His heart trembled with fear, and he wondered what Demon Saint or Earth Immortal was on patrol. In panic, he burned incense to report to the Heavenly Gods.

Qi WuHuo walked down the mountain, and the old man looked back.

The night fog that had shrouded the mountains for a hundred li suddenly withdrew. The mist grew smaller and smaller, until at last it was nothing more than a patch of purple gauze atop a hat.

Beyond that, the mountains were clear, the wind gentle, and the moon bright.

Nothing more.

"Let's go, to the young brother's home."

"You carried me for one thousand two hundred steps—this shall be a bond of good karma."