On the barren ground outside the Broken Temple, flames soared into the sky.
The stench of burning flesh mingled with the scent of pine resin, especially acrid in the night wind.
Chen Ping stood expressionlessly beside the bonfire, gripping a thick, long branch. Every so often, he prodded the unburned limbs back into the heart of the flames.
His movements were practiced enough to make one's hair stand on end.
Destroy the corpse, grind the bones, scatter the ashes.
He carried out the entire process in one smooth motion.
Before burning the body, he had meticulously searched every inch of the old Daoist that might conceal an item. He hadn't even spared the soles of his shoes.
Ye Muqing leaned against the Broken Temple's doorframe, her face pale as paper.
She watched the young man in official robes standing amid the flames, his expression calm. Deep in her eyes lurked an indescribable wariness.
This mortal martial artist was terrifying—more decisive in killing and more meticulous in his schemes than even those collateral-line family members who knew nothing but fighting for power and profit.
"Lord Chen... you certainly know how to handle things."
Ye Muqing's voice was weak, yet carried a complicated note.
The branch in Chen Ping's hand paused. Then he prodded the last piece of thighbone into the fire and turned around, his cold expression vanishing, replaced by one of anxious humility.
"You honor this humble subordinate too much, my lady."
Chen Ping bowed, his tone deferential. "This subordinate was merely afraid the Demon Daoist might not be entirely dead, or that he might bring some plague. That's why I made sure to dispose of him thoroughly. I'm just a rough country bumpkin. I hope I haven't made a fool of myself in front of you."
The firelight illuminated his seemingly honest face, perfectly hiding the gleam in his eyes.
Ye Muqing gave him a long look but didn't expose his clumsy excuse. She only sighed softly.
"Help me inside."
Inside the Broken Temple, the bonfire flickered.
The two surviving Imperial Guards stood watch outside the door, tense as startled birds.
Ye Muqing sat cross-legged on a meditation cushion. After swallowing a healing pill, her complexion regained a little color.
"Chen Ping, I'll remember that you saved my life today."
Ye Muqing opened her eyes, her tone far more candid and no longer as haughty as before.
"It was my duty, my lady. I dare not claim credit."
Chen Ping kept his head lowered, mindful of his station.
"You don't need to be so reserved."
Ye Muqing gave a bitter laugh and mocked herself.
"What noble lady? I'm nothing but a sacrifice in my family's internal strife."
Her gaze was distant as she watched the leaping flames.
"I'm a collateral-line member of the Ye Family, a cultivation family in the Capital City. The ambush was deliberate. Someone in the family didn't want me bringing that thing back."
Chen Ping's eyelid twitched, and he lowered his head even further.
The more of these secrets of the powerful he heard, the faster he'd die.
He wished he could plug his ears.
Ye Muqing saw his concern, so she said no more. Instead, she looked at Chen Ping with a hint of regret.
"Chen Ping, though you lack a Spiritual Root, your martial talent is the finest I've ever seen."
"To kill an Evil Cultivator at the third level of Qi Refining with a mortal body... If only you had a Spiritual Root..."
She shook her head and drew a thin booklet from within her robes, along with a stone that gave off a faint glow.
"No matter how far mortal martial arts are cultivated, they can at best grant a hundred years of life. In the end, you're still just a handful of yellow earth."
Ye Muqing held the items out to Chen Ping.
"This Everlasting Spring Technique is only a remnant, and it can only be cultivated up to the third level of Qi Refining, but it still counts as a chance at immortality. This Low-Grade Spirit Stone is for you to use as starting capital."
Chen Ping's body trembled.
With shaking hands, he carefully accepted the yellowed booklet and the smooth, warm stone.
No matter how good an actor he was, facing true immortal arts made his breathing quicken.
"Thank you, my lady! Thank you, my lady!"
Chen Ping kowtowed repeatedly, his voice trembling with excitement.
Seeing him like this, the wariness in Ye Muqing's eyes faded.
A mortal was still a mortal.
A common, incomplete Cultivation Technique was enough to make him lose his composure.
"Listen carefully."
Ye Muqing's expression turned solemn as she warned him.
"Mortal cultivation without a Spiritual Root is as hard as climbing to the heavens. Even if you're lucky enough to sense Qi Sense, without family resources to support you, you won't get anywhere."
"Keep this Cultivation Technique as a memento. At most, it can help you strengthen your body. Don't become obsessed and waste half your life on it."
"After all, immortals and mortals belong to different worlds."
She spoke those final words with particular weight, their brutal reality plain in her voice.
Chen Ping gripped the booklet tightly and nodded like a pecking chicken.
"This humble subordinate understands. I only hope to live a few years longer. I wouldn't dare ask for immortality."
His face wore a look of humble satisfaction, but a storm was raging inside him.
No Spiritual Root?
I have [Heaven Rewards Diligence]!
Resources hard to come by?
As long as I can get started, I'll just grind away!
The next morning.
The eastern sky had only just begun to pale when a series of urgent whooshes shattered the wilderness's stillness.
Three small Flying Ships bearing the Ye Family crest descended from the sky and hovered above the Broken Temple.
Several cultivators in fine robes, their auras powerful, leaped down and swiftly took control of the scene.
Surrounded by her family members, Ye Muqing boarded a Flying Ship.
Before leaving, she stood by the ship's railing and looked down at Chen Ping, standing amid the dust.
Her gaze was indifferent and distant.
It was like looking at a roadside weed that was just a little unusual.
The candor of the previous night and the gift of the book seemed like a dream.
As the Flying Ship turned into a streak of light and vanished over the horizon, the gulf in status between them widened once more.
One was a high-and-mighty cultivator.
The other, a mortal martial artist who wallowed in the mud.
After this parting, they might never meet again.
Chen Ping remained bowed in salute until the Flying Ship had vanished completely. Only then did he slowly straighten up.
He brushed the dust from his official robes. The humble smile vanished from his face, replaced by a profound stillness.
"Just passing through, are we..."
Chen Ping murmured softly, the corner of his mouth curling into a cold smile.
"Who's passing through whose life remains to be seen."
On the way back, Chen Ping displayed exceptional skill in handling official affairs.
He ordered the surviving Imperial Guards to keep silent and classified the ambush as "an attack on an Imperial Court official by roving bandits."
After returning to Qinghe County, he used his status as a successful candidate in the palace examination and his connections to the County Magistrate to swiftly suppress the matter.
He submitted a carefully worded official report, scrubbing out every reference to "demonic arts" and "ghosts."
He didn't mention cultivators at all.
In this world, mortals who got caught up in cultivators' grudges usually met just one end—being casually wiped away.
Making the whole affair seem ordinary and mundane was the safest disguise.
After taking care of all the trivial matters, night had fallen.
Chen Ping dragged his weary body back to the little courtyard in the southern part of the city.
"Husband, you're home?"
Hearing him, Yun Niang came out in her robe, her eyes full of worry.
"I'm fine. The official business is taken care of."
Chen Ping smiled warmly and gently embraced his wife, feeling the warmth that belonged only to mortal life.
"Go to bed early. I'll sort through some documents in the study."
After reassuring Yun Niang, Chen Ping went alone into the study.
He bolted the door.
He checked the strand of hair in the window crack.
He made sure no one was inside.
Only after completing this compulsive ritual did Chen Ping breathe a long sigh of relief and slump into the Grand Master Chair.
With trembling hands, he pulled out the night's spoils.
A thin booklet, the Everlasting Spring Technique (Remnant).
A dusty Leather Pouch—the old Daoist's Storage Pouch, which he couldn't open yet without magical power.
A Crimson Token engraved with the words "Golden Sun."
And the Low-Grade Spirit Stone.
Chen Ping fixed his gaze on the Everlasting Spring Technique.
In two lifetimes, this was the first time he had truly touched the threshold of that fantastical world.
It was also his only hope of changing Yun Niang's fate and breaking the shackles of mortality.
"Heaven Rewards Diligence..."
Chen Ping drew a deep breath and lit the oil lamp on the table.
By the dim, yellow light, he opened the first page of the Everlasting Spring Technique.
It was covered in densely drawn meridian diagrams and obscure incantations.
"Heaven and earth are filled with spiritual energy. Draw it into the body..."
Chen Ping read every word, each one seeming to weigh a thousand pounds.
As he finished reading the incantation for the first time and tried adjusting his breathing as instructed in the book,
the Ancient Bamboo Slip, long dormant in the depths of his mind, trembled violently.
A line of brilliant golden text appeared—
[Technique detected: Everlasting Spring Technique (Remnant). Recording...] [Recording successful.] [Technique: Everlasting Spring Technique (Not Started 0/100)] [Effect: Absorb spiritual energy and prolong life. Upon reaching perfection, obtain the "Everlasting Youthful Body."]
Looking at the familiar progress bar on the panel, Chen Ping broke into a wide, silent grin.
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