Chapter 7#
His hand continued to exert force, blood streaming down. A bone-piercing pain radiated repeatedly from his waist.
Yu Lin flicked his hand casually, causing droplets of wet blood to splatter onto his white robes.
He threw his sword onto the arena floor with a “thud” and stepped down, though he couldn’t help but sway unsteadily as he did so.
Wen Jin, who had been waiting nearby, saw his pale complexion and immediately reached out to support him, asking in a soft voice, “Are you alright?”
Yu Lin’s gaze was somewhat unfocused. Lacking the strength to answer, he breathed rapidly and shook his head slowly.
He lowered his brows, then closed his eyes, pulled away from Wen Jin’s grip, and walked forward unsteadily. He went straight up to Immortal Chongwu and asked, “Why?”
…Why use spiritual medicine?
Yu Lin’s voice carried a sense of confusion and bewilderment he hadn’t even realized himself. His tone was questioning and trembling, stubbornly and persistently demanding an answer.
Since he was a child, he had upheld his master’s teaching—“One must not rely on external objects for cultivation”—as the absolute truth. Yet now, for the sake of Yu Ling, his master had broken his own commandment?
Could it be that Yu Ling was so precious that everyone was willing to overturn the rules to pave the way for him?
But Immortal Chongwu feigned ignorance, refusing to answer directly. Instead, he smoothed the loose hair at Yu Lin’s temple behind his ear, glanced down at the wound on his waist, and said in a gentle tone, “Why are you so careless?”
His evasiveness was tantamount to an admission. Yu Lin swayed, a nameless anger rising as he looked at the immortal’s calm expression.
In his previous life, the public failure and the gossip that followed had nearly driven him mad. People had spent so long wagging their tongues over the fact that he and Yu Ling looked like they had been cast from the same mold.
He could accept failure, but not at that time, in that place, and with that person.
And now, to be told that his humiliation and his trauma were orchestrated by his own master—along with the shattering of his childhood faith and principles.
Yu Lin didn’t even have the strength for a bitter smile. He looked up, locking eyes with Immortal Chongwu, and asked hoarsely, over and over again, “Why?”
His hands clenched into fists, tighter and tighter. The wound reopened, and blood dripped down, but he felt no pain. “Why?”
He wanted an answer, as if he had lost his mind.
Suddenly, Yu Lin felt his wrist tighten. Looking over, he saw that Wen Jin had arrived at his side at some point. Wen Jin shook his head at him and gestured with the small jade bottle in his hand, “Come on, I’ll take you to get treated.”
Without a word, he allowed himself to be led to a rock and sat down.
Here, far from the bustling competition stage, the noise and sighs of the arena seemed to have nothing to do with them.
Wen Jin crouched halfway on the ground, opened the small jade bottle, poured out a bit of light green powder, and sprinkled it onto his waist, bit by bit.
Yu Lin’s wound was deep, and because it hadn’t been cleaned in time, the bleeding flesh had already formed a scab.
The clotted blood had stuck to his clothing, so Wen Jin had to treat the inflammation first.
When Wen Jin pressed on the wound, Yu Lin instinctively frowned and hissed, complaining, “Go easy.”
Wen Jin softened his touch, though his movements didn’t stop. “Do you know it hurts now?”
Yu Lin didn’t answer, biting his lip stubbornly.
Wen Jin carefully sprinkled the powder onto the wound, then blew on it gently and took out a pair of scissors to cut away the fabric near the wound.
A small breeze drifted into the gap between his clothes and skin. Wen Jin used tweezers to peel back a corner of the fabric stuck to the flesh, then pulled it away.
Yu Lin let out a muffled groan, cold sweat beading on his forehead.
Wen Jin glanced at him and wiped the wound carefully and gently with a silk cloth. “Don’t go provoking your master.”
Yu Lin scoffed, “Why should I?”
He lowered his eyes to watch his wound being covered by the powder, and then by a clean piece of fine cloth. Wen Jin didn’t answer.
After a long time, he heard a soft sigh. Wen Jin slowly raised his head and said in a low voice, “Xiao Lin, listen to me. I wouldn’t harm you, would I?”
Wen Jin reached out to stroke his cheek. A faint scent of medicine wafted over. His gaze toward Yu Lin was complex, and if one looked closely, it was even tinged with sorrow.
Yu Lin was struck dumb by that look, unable to say “no” to him. He didn’t understand the reason, but he couldn’t help but soften his voice and answer with a, “Hmm.”
Yu Lin pulled Wen Jin over, and the two sat side by side on the rock.
He braced his hands on the stone, looked up at the sky, and said softly, “Wen Jin, I remembered my childhood.”
Wen Jin responded with a smile, his voice filled with nostalgia, “When I first met you, you were just a little thing.”
In his youth, Yu Lin had injured his body in the ice and snow, leaving him sickly and frail. Then, at the age of six, he fell gravely ill, plagued by a high fever that would not break.
Immortal Chongwu took him to see countless famous doctors to no avail, and finally, he had to carry Yu Lin to seek out an old friend in the Spirit Medicine Valley.
The Spirit Medicine Valley was located deep within the Path of Verdant Shade.
Rows of dark blue spirit trees stood on both sides of the road, their massive canopies shielding the sky, allowing only a hint of blue-purple light to filter through.
Swarms of fireflies danced like stars around them.
The Path of Verdant Shade forbade the use of flying swords, so Immortal Chongwu carried him by foot until the very end.
A gargantuan tree stood at the entrance of the Spirit Medicine Valley, its vines twisted and knotted around a wooden gate.
Immortal Chongwu walked up and tapped on the wooden door three times.
A moment later, faint movements came from within, and the vines wrapped around the gate retracted to the side with a “swish.”
The wooden door creaked open.
A fuzzy head poked out. A boy of about six or seven leaned against the partially opened door, his voice still childish, “Who needs medical treatment?”
“It is this child,” Immortal Chongwu indicated.
The boy sized them up, then stepped aside. “Come in.”
Yu Lin’s cheeks were flushed red, his whole body burning, and he had no strength left, lying limply in his master’s arms.
In his delirium, he heard voices and opened his eyes slightly.
Immortal Chongwu noticed his movement, felt the temperature of his forehead, and tucked him closer, coaxing him softly, “We are almost there.”
On both sides of the path were patches of herb fields, planted with all kinds of spirit herbs. Different types of herbs glowed with a faint blue or green light.
The interior of the Spirit Medicine Valley had a cool color palette, and the rustling of insects echoed throughout the valley, making it feel serene.
A faint scent of medicine wafted toward them, accompanied by a fresh fragrance. The boy, wearing a simple linen robe, led them inside.
The boy stopped before they even reached the inner room. “Master.”
They saw an old man, who had somehow already received word, standing in front of the house. His temples were gray, but his eyes were remarkably clear.
He called out, “Chongwu,” with neither sorrow nor joy.
“Long time no see.” Immortal Chongwu nodded, about to say something more, when the old man shifted his gaze and pushed the door open.
The old man turned and asked, “What is wrong with this little one?”
Immortal Chongwu followed him into the room and carefully placed Yu Lin on the bed. “High fever that won’t break.”
The old man acknowledged this without a word, then turned to examine Yu Lin’s condition.
Yu Lin lay on the bed, struggling to open his eyes to look at the old man before him. He was delirious with fever, his mind a blank, unable to form a coherent thought for a long time.
“What is wrong with him?” Immortal Chongwu asked, stepping toward the old man.
“You should step outside for now.” The old man didn’t answer his question; instead, he called for the boy to bring the needle box, and he himself stood up to soak a cold towel to place on Yu Lin’s forehead.
The situation was critical, and seeing Yu Lin’s hazy state, he didn’t dare to go against the old man’s wishes, so he got up and went out.
“Master.” The boy handed him the needle box, stood by his side, and asked only after the man had left, “Was that person from the Fusheng Sect?”
The old man paused with the needle in his hand, and after a moment, he said, “Yes.”
“How dare people from the Fusheng Sect come to you for help! They have the nerve…”
“Wen Jin, watch your tongue!”
The old man cut him off, raising a finger to press against his lips, his expression stern.
The boy immediately muttered and fell silent.
The old man looked at Yu Lin on the bed with a cold face, yet his movements were remarkably gentle, occasionally pressing the back of his hand to Yu Lin’s forehead to see if the fever had subsided.
His hands weren’t hot; the cool, gentle touch on Yu Lin’s forehead brought a faint medicinal scent with it. Yu Lin inhaled it unconsciously, his watery eyes squinting slightly as he looked at him with an innocent expression.
“This little one has done nothing wrong; he deserves to be saved.” The old man’s expression softened as he looked at him.
Once Yu Lin’s fever had dropped slightly, he washed his hands clean and carefully applied the needles. His eyesight was no longer good, so he had to lean in close when applying them, his gaze focused intently on the acupuncture points.
Half an hour later, he straightened up, his eyes lowered in thought.
Yu Lin had fallen into a deep sleep. The fever had broken, leaving only a faint trace of red on his cheeks. He remained weak, his lips pale.
“Wen Jin, I must leave you a way out,” the old man said.
“What?” Wen Jin was stunned and looked up at him.
The old man turned to look at him, his gaze peaceful. “If I am no longer around, you should go find Chongwu. He will help you.”
Having said this, he walked out of the room, leaving Wen Jin and Yu Lin alone inside.
Immortal Chongwu saw the old man’s reaction and knew Yu Lin was out of danger. After decades apart, seeing his once-good friend transformed into this state, he found himself stammering, unable to say much.
“How are you… now?” he finally managed to squeeze out after a long time.
The old man looked at him mildly and answered a different question: “My days are numbered, too.”
He spoke as if he had seen through the vanity of the world, without a hint of resentment.
“…Regarding the past, the Fusheng Sect failed you,” Immortal Chongwu said softly.
The old man turned his head to look at the mountains behind the Spirit Medicine Valley. “Those words… come a bit too late.”
“Ah Jing… if you ever have a need, don’t hesitate to find me.” Immortal Chongwu finally couldn’t help but say those words, handing him a sound-transmission token.
The old man didn’t refuse and took the token, looking up at him. “There is indeed one thing: help me take care of Wen Jin.”
Inside the room.
Wen Jin was leaning by the bed, pondering the old man’s words, when he saw Yu Lin’s eyelashes tremble as he slowly woke up.
He snapped back to reality and leaned forward. “You’re awake.”
Yu Lin was confused and instinctively grabbed his collar. “Who are you?”
Wen Jin was taken aback by his muddled question, so he answered in a muddled way, “I am Wen Jin.”
A moment later, feeling that his answer was bizarre, he added, “The healer just now is my foster father, Yuan Jing. I am an apprentice in the Spirit Medicine Valley.”
“…Oh.”
Seeing the confusion in Yu Lin’s watery eyes, Wen Jin couldn’t help but poke his cheek, completely forgetting that only half an hour ago he had asked Yuan Jing why he would bother saving this child.
Yu Lin then learned from him and gave his own name, then peered toward the door, “Did you see my master?”
Wen Jin’s mood plummeted instantly. With a cold face, he gestured toward the door with his chin. “He’s outside.”
Yu Lin didn’t notice the change in his mood. After acknowledging him, he lowered his head to tidy his clothes and got off the bed to go find Immortal Chongwu.
“Master!” Yu Lin threw himself into Immortal Chongwu’s arms and was picked up. Wen Jin followed him out of the house and stood by Yuan Jing’s side.
“Wen Jin, I will take you with us,” Immortal Chongwu promised Yuan Jing, saying this while leaning down slightly toward Wen Jin.
But Wen Jin looked at him with full hostility, shrinking behind Yuan Jing. “I don’t want to.”
Yuan Jing smiled as he shielded him, his eyes flickering slightly. “Chongwu, let him come find you when the time is right.”
Immortal Chongwu looked up at him; the faint, ethereal light shone on Yuan Jing’s face.
Yuan Jing’s brows were relaxed, and his expression was gentle, as if he didn’t care about anything, or perhaps as if he were nearing liberation.
“…Come with us. The collateral branches of your Spirit Medicine Valley are eyeing you covetously. Only the Fusheng Sect can protect you.”
He finally deigned to give Immortal Chongwu a smile. “Chongwu, you really haven’t changed at all.”
“As long as we old fools are still here, there is no reason to turn back.” Yuan Jing shook his head. “You should go.”