Chapter Forty-Five: The Fateful Connection with the Immortals

Late at night.

The temple was shrouded in silence.

The firelight flickered dim and yellow, occasionally crackling with sparks.

Everyone’s gaze was fixed on the young man.

He was of refined appearance, tall and upright, dressed in plain white robes trimmed in blue—simple yet otherworldly.

His expression remained indifferent, and he said little.

Yet in the hearts of all present, there was awe—not merely because he had saved their lives, but more so for the mastery of his arts.

With a wave of his hand, talisman papers burst into flames out of nowhere. With another, the talisman-wrapped wooden carvings grew as they touched the ground, transforming into living, fearsome tigers and wolves.

Taoist sorcery of the immortals—wondrous and uncanny.

No one among them could help but feel reverent fear.

Qingyuan paid them no heed. He simply took out three more wooden carvings, wrapped them in talisman papers, and cast them forth, whereupon they became three more ferocious beasts.

One devoured the parrot on the ground.

Another swallowed the wood demon slain by Gu Cang.

The third headed toward the scorched earth near the idol, consuming the willow fiend.

“Locust tree spirits with ghosts attached,” Qingyuan mused. “My cultivation is still shallow; I must borrow some outside strength…”

Such external forces, borrowing from the locust wood, inevitably carried traces of evil, but disciples of the Purple Cloud Palace were never pedantic. Unlike many orthodox sects, their methods differed.

He glanced at the five wooden tigers and wolves, each having consumed a spirit.

Ordinarily, after a creature died, if destined for deification, its soul would ascend to the so-called Altar of Investiture. But Qingyuan’s cultivation was not yet advanced enough to perceive souls, nor did he believe these little spirits were fated for such. Hence, he had the tigers and wolves devour them all.

The locust wood, haunted by ghosts, gained strength from absorbing the remnants of these spirits, thus augmenting Qingyuan’s art of “paper-cutting into steeds.”

Moreover, the three wood demons, all born of the locust tree, provided an even clearer benefit. Of these, the two whose spirits remained undispersed after being devoured were especially valuable.

“Return.”

With a gesture, the beasts leapt back, shrinking instantly into his palm, resuming their forms as talisman-wrapped wooden carvings.

He placed them into his pouch, his expression unmoved.

Gu Cang sheathed his blade and stood nearby, awaiting orders.

Qingyuan fastened his iron staff at his waist and surveyed the dozen or so people within the temple.

His expression unchanging, his gaze cool and distant—wherever his eyes swept, the people trembled with fear.

Especially those who had previously considered attacking him—now, learning he was nothing short of an immortal, their legs shook uncontrollably.

Some, timid by nature, nearly fell to their knees in terror.

“Exalted Immortal…” someone ventured.

The bald, broad-shouldered man, somewhat experienced in worldly matters, was drenched in cold sweat. He swallowed hard, choosing his words with care.

“The monsters are all dealt with—will there be no more strange happenings in the temple?” he asked.

Qingyuan replied indifferently, “A few of you, go and fell the locust trees outside, to prevent any future spirits from arising. As for your slain companion, lay him down and bury him.”

With that, he waved his hand lightly. “It’s late—do not disturb me further.”

At his words, everyone hastened to obey.

Realizing the immortal meant them no harm, they breathed a collective sigh of relief. Yet now and again, someone would steal a glance his way, whispering in awe and curiosity.

Qingyuan’s first undertaking in subduing monsters and eradicating evil had gone rather smoothly.

He closed his eyes, sitting in silent cultivation.

Gu Cang stood by his side, standing guard.

The firelight remained dim and yellow.

Those men who once enjoyed boisterous conversation now spoke only in hushed tones, not daring to disturb the peace.

The siblings, too, exchanged a look of reverence, uncertain what to think. Beside them, the bald man’s expression shifted restlessly, as if lost in thought.

The night passed in silent cultivation.

At dawn, Qingyuan awakened from his meditation.

By then, the merchants were already gathering their belongings, preparing for departure.

Gu Cang barred the siblings from approaching.

“Let them come,” Qingyuan said suddenly.

The brother and sister came to stand before him, preparing to kneel.

With a wave of Qingyuan’s hand, a surge of true energy lifted them, preventing their obeisance.

“If there is something to say, speak freely; there is no need for ceremony,” Qingyuan said. “If you wish only to express gratitude for last night, that is unnecessary.”

The honest young man hesitated, words on his lips but unsaid.

It was the girl, seemingly shy but braver than her brother, who bit her lip and said, “We wish to follow you, Immortal…”

Qingyuan shook his head. “I am not heading to Southern Liang.”

The young man grew anxious, unable in his haste to express his intent. In the end, it was his sister who spoke, “So long as we are by your side, Immortal, we fear nothing, even if we must return to Southern Liang…”

Clearly, they sought the protection of his presence.

Qingyuan understood, but he shook his head again. “If you must return to Southern Liang, I can see you partway, but you cannot follow me.”

“Immortal…” the girl tried to kneel again, but a gust of wind held her in place. She could only plead, “The world is in chaos. My brother and I do not seek immortality, only to serve by your side and find a safe haven… In these deep, wild mountains, we can neither go forward nor back. Without your help, we will surely perish here…”

Qingyuan replied, “You should follow your original plan and journey to Shu.”

The girl wiped her tears. “But we cannot make the journey ahead alone.”

After a moment’s thought, Qingyuan said, “I will ask them to bring you along.”

Having saved the group the night before, his directions would not be difficult for them to follow, given their fear and respect.

With nothing more to say, the siblings remained silent, disappointed at having lost their chance at immortal fate.

Qingyuan beckoned to the bald man.

“Immortal,” the man answered, startled and flattered, hurrying over. “What are your commands?”

Qingyuan said, “These siblings must go to Shu, but they do not know the way, and the journey is perilous. They lack the means to defend themselves. I ask you to escort them and see them safely there.”

The bald man bowed his head, his expression shifting, and then knelt to the ground. “If it is your wish, Immortal, I dare not refuse.”

With a wave of his hand, Qingyuan’s palm wind lifted him from the ground. “If this is to thank me for saving your lives, dispense with it.”

The bald man drew a deep breath and bowed low. “Immortal, though I have practiced martial arts since childhood, I have ever sought the way of the immortals. Having witnessed your power, I only wish to serve you, pouring tea and fetching water, in hope of learning from you.”

Qingyuan shook his head. “I do not take disciples.”

The man’s face fell, as if he wished to say more.

Qingyuan waved his hand. “You are not young; the path of cultivation is difficult to attain. Moreover, your destiny lies elsewhere, not with me.”

Full of disappointment, the bald man resigned himself with a sigh.