Chapter 9: Xiao He

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At the eastern end of Lantern Market Street in Shiliang Town stood a small tile-roofed house.

The steam rising from the freshly cooked rice mingled with the aroma of home-style dishes, filling the room with warmth.

“Brother Yan, now that you’ve become an immortal, do you still need to eat?” Sheng Yun asked, her face full of curiosity as she nibbled at her food.

“What immortal? Don’t listen to their nonsense…” Song Yan replied, shaking his head. “Besides, even if I really become immortal one day, your cooking skills, Yun, would still tempt the appetite of an immortal.”

“Hehe.” Sheng Yun beamed sweetly at his praise.

Before one’s foundation is established, fasting is impossible. Thus, in the world of cultivators, there are spiritual grains and spiritual wines—foods cultivated and brewed with special methods. Consuming them can even slightly increase one’s spiritual power.

But such luxuries were far beyond Song Yan’s means—a mere scavenger on the path of immortality.

“Ye Sheng, how long will you be staying this time?” Xu Darong asked.

“Not long. At most… three days,” Song Yan replied.

Sheng Nian said nothing, quietly eating his meal.

After finishing, the four of them tidied up the dishes together. Xu Darong had matters to attend to at home, so he left early.

The remaining three sat chatting on the heated brick bed.

“Where did those people come from?” Song Yan inquired. Sheng Nian shook his head, uncertain. “But… ever since Tong Chuping died in our town that year, more and more people have been coming to Shiliang…”

At the mention of that name, a knowing look passed between Song Yan and Sheng Nian, and they left it at that. Sheng Yun, oblivious, didn’t notice anything amiss.

Song Yan continued, “A shortcut to the heavens… Who could resist such an opportunity?”

“My talent—gold, wood, and fire spiritual roots—would be considered average in the Cave Abyss Sect. Without cultivation resources, I might never set foot in the inner sect in this lifetime.”

“But if I could obtain a disciple token from the Sheyang Sect, I could enter the inner sect directly.”

“For ordinary people, it’s truly a leap to the heavens…”

Who doesn’t dream of becoming immortal? To live long and see eternity, to ride the clouds and mist.

No matter how great one is in the mortal world, even a grandfather revered as a living immortal cannot escape the five decays of heaven and man.

They chatted until late into the night before Song Yan took his leave.

He walked out of the Shiliang Town market and made his way back to Bluestone Mountain.

The Grassy Hut in the Green Hills.

His grandfather had always loved tranquility, which was why both the mountain and the hut stood at the very edge of the small town.

The mountain wind at night made Song Yan shiver.

He placed three sticks of incense into the burner before the grave.

“Grandfather, all is well with me.”

An orphan from the banks of the Wuxi River, with no parents, taken in and raised by his grandfather.

Abandoned children were hardly rare in those days.

Only twenty years ago did the State of Chu finally emerge from chaos and war. Ordinary people’s lives hadn’t improved much; there were countless families who could bear children but not feed them.

Grandfather never expected this child to make a name for himself—he only wished him peace, joy, and a life of leisure, so he named him Song Yan.

He had once been a traveling physician, built a hut in the hills, and settled in Shiliang Town.

The old man’s medical skills were superb; any difficult or complicated illness seemed to melt away in his hands. He had a kind heart, often went down to the town to offer free clinics, never charged, and gained a reputation as a miraculous doctor.

Of course, back then, the two of them lived frugally in the hills, inseparable from the old man’s frequent charity.

Later, when his grandfather passed away, Song Yan had to leave for sect training. The hut and herb garden his grandfather left behind on Bluestone Mountain couldn’t be sold in a hurry, and besides, his grandfather was buried beside the hut.

So, he simply entrusted everything to Uncle Meng for safekeeping.

Song Yan sat atop his grandfather’s grave, recounting everything that had happened since joining the sect.

“Sometimes I wonder… a man as remarkable as you, almost like an immortal descended to earth, how could you have succumbed to illness…”

“But now I see—even those so-called ‘cultivators of immortality,’ if they cannot become truly immortal, if they cannot achieve eternal life, will in the end return to dust…”

Song Yan sighed softly.

He had followed his grandfather and diligently studied medicine for ten solid years, only to watch helplessly as the old man passed away before his eyes.

In this mortal world, what are ordinary people but dust…

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Is immortality truly attainable?

…

To the north, the Green Hills connected with two towering peaks: Greater and Lesser Solitary Mountain.

But Song Yan was hardly in the mood for midnight mountaineering.

Descending the slope for a while, he soon heard the faint sound of a stream flowing through the mountains—the very source of the Wuxi River was near.

At this point, Song Yan was already outside the bounds of Shiliang.

No one would usually come here.

After about fifteen minutes, Song Yan followed a barely visible path and slowly entered Wuxi Valley.

The mountain wind was cold; Song Yan pulled his robe tighter.

The valley was shrouded in mist year-round—damp and chilly, and at night, the cold was bone-deep.

Where once he could rely on the pale moonlight to see, now, within the valley, he could only depend on his lantern to make out the nearby terrain.

Snap—

Song Yan pushed aside damp vines and dry leaves, their surfaces glazed with a thin frost that made him shiver.

An entrance to a concealed cave appeared before him.

Song Yan stepped inside.

By the dim glow of the lantern, his vision was narrow, but he pressed on, undaunted.

Inside the cavern, the sounds of the mountain suddenly vanished, leaving only the faint drip of water.

Drip…

Thunk…

Occasionally, a droplet would fall, landing on Song Yan’s hair.

He stopped.

Suddenly, a chill wind swept in from nowhere. The lantern flame in his hand flickered—and was snuffed out.

…

In an instant, everything around him was swallowed by darkness.

…

A faint rustling sound.

At some point, Song Yan felt something cold touch his left foot, slowly creeping upward.

His ankle…

His knee…

That cold, clammy, slippery sensation wound its way up his body, coiling around his waist, and then climbing onto his shoulders.

Song Yan could feel something pressing against his neck, lightly resting on his shoulder.

It was wet and icy.

A hiss…

A pair of blue-gold, vertical pupils slowly opened by his ear, their depths swirling with an eerie cyan light—the only glow in that shrouded darkness.

“Little He…”

Song Yan called softly.

Hiss…

The owner of those eyes did not reply, but let out a sound only cold-blooded creatures could make.

Song Yan sensed something was off.

The thing entwined around him was changing.

The cold, damp sensation on his neck faded, replaced by the warmth of human skin.

Two small hands hugged him from behind.

In the darkness came a childish, deliberately cool voice.

“Why did you come back?”

Song Yan couldn’t help but laugh.

He fished a fire striker from his sleeve, relit the wick in his lantern, and now, at last, could dimly make out his surroundings.

A small wooden bed and a few bamboo stools—nothing more.

Song Yan reached behind him, grabbed a chaotic bundle of clothes on the little girl’s neck, and hoisted her up.

“Hey, you—”

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“Let me go! I—I’m a monster! I… Don’t think I won’t eat you in one bite!” she threatened, swinging her little fists and flailing her arms and legs, full of bluster.

But she wasn’t scary at all.

Song Yan set her down on the small wooden bed and sat himself on a bamboo stool.

“I’ve been training at Dongyuan Immortal Sect for a year and a half. I was only just allowed to descend the mountain and come home for a visit.”

…

Hearing Song Yan speak, the little girl fell quiet for a moment.

But soon, she puffed herself up again, folded her arms, and turned her head away.

“Hmph! What does that have to do with me!”

She huffed, baring a pair of sharp little tiger teeth.

“Hurry up and go! Once you’re gone, this is my territory! I’ll be so happy!”

…

Song Yan paused.

“Yes, in a couple days… I’ll be returning to the sect.”

The candle flame in the lantern flickered uncertainly, as if it might go out at any moment.

…

“Fine! Fine! That’s wonderful!” she snapped. “No one cares about me anyway. I’ll just eat up every single person who climbs this mountain and send them to see Grandpa! That way, he won’t be lonely in the underworld! Isn’t that right?!”

Song Yan ignored her shocking threats.

“This time… I won’t be coming back for quite a while.”

Little He turned her head away and said nothing.

But tears welled up in her eyes, her lips trembling until, at last, she couldn’t hold back any longer.

“Waaah!!!”

Aggrieved tears and snot streamed down her chubby face.

“I’m never talking to you again! You’re always like this!!!”

“Wuwuwu…”

“Why—waaah…”

The cave echoed with the wailing of the little snake spirit.

“I haven’t even finished speaking, why are you in such a hurry?” Song Yan’s solemn face broke into a sly smile. “What do you mean, always like this? This time is different.”

“Little He…”

“Mm?”

The girl’s sobs ceased abruptly, save for the occasional sniffle.

…

“Come with me.”

…

The little snake spirit eyed him suspiciously.

“Really?”

Song Yan nodded.

Sniff.

“Alright then.”

With a thud, Little He buried her chubby face in Song Yan’s chest, smearing his clothes with tears and snot.

“Hehe.”