Chapter Three: Healing in the Small Village

Sunrise and sunset, the grass grows and the orioles fly; more than half a year passed swiftly. Under Aunt Ming’s careful care, the young man was finally able to get out of bed and walk slowly.

Baihua Village was a secluded hamlet, surrounded by dense forests and towering mountains, hidden deep within the wilderness. The villagers lived simple, rustic lives, relying on hunting and basic farming. They were honest, kind-hearted, and pure in spirit.

Having stayed there so long, the youth gradually understood that Aunt Ming was a reclusive transcendent who had attained immortality. No one knew her true name, her origin, her age, or where she had studied under. But he knew she was not only a masterful healer but also a superb swordswoman who could ride her sword through the air—a celestial being beyond the mundane world, an immortal in the eyes of ordinary people.

Those who had attained immortality appeared forever young, though in truth they might have lived for centuries. Some chose seclusion in the mountains for various reasons—perhaps unavoidable hardships or secret motives. Why Aunt Ming had brought him, Xiao’er, to hide away in this remote forest was a mystery to him. For now, his task was to cooperate with Aunt Ming’s treatment and recover from his illness as soon as possible.

The youth, dressed in a plain white coarse cloth robe, stood beneath a peach blossom tree, lost in thought. The sunlight was bright, the peach blossoms radiant and blooming profusely, painting the little mountain village with picturesque beauty. He noticed that the flowers and plants surrounding Aunt Ming’s small wooden cabin flourished unusually well, growing wildly in endless waves as if nourished by some magical elixir.

Perhaps the land’s feng shui was exceptionally favorable? he wondered.

His hair, as black as ink, fluttered in the breeze; his slender back stood straight. Though clad in humble cloth and marked by fierce scars on his face, his narrow phoenix-shaped eyes gleamed with life, radiating an innate elegant nobility and a commanding presence that needed no anger to intimidate.

Before him knelt a tall, imposing man clad in black, wearing black robes and trousers. The man’s handsome features were dignified, his eyes sharp yet restrained, exuding competence.

The man spoke respectfully, “My lord, Du You has investigated. The one who tried to assassinate you this time is none other than the Sixth Prince, Feng Yuchen. Shall we…” He made a chopping gesture with his hand.

More than half a year ago, the youth and Sixth Prince Feng Yuchen had been on a diplomatic mission to the Northern Turkic Empire. On the return trip, the smiling prince had taken the opportunity to strike him down during a sudden illness. Though he was a sickly patient, the prince saw him as a thorn in his side, a pest to be eliminated.

The youth fell silent for a long moment, then replied coldly, “The Sixth Prince is a fool, nothing to fear. The urgent matter now is to cure this stubborn illness. Perhaps the Shu Mountain Immortal Sect would be a good choice…”

A gleam of hope suddenly sparked in Du You’s eyes. He said excitedly, “My lord, the Shu Mountain Immortal Sect’s apprentice recruitment assembly is just a few months away. You might consider attending?”

The youth nodded. “If this illness remains incurable, I will have only ten years to live, and all will be but smoke and clouds. There is still time. I shall recover first; it is not too late to leave afterward.”

“Ninth Brother, Ninth Brother! Where are you?” A childish voice rang out. The two exchanged a glance, and Du You respectfully said, “My lord, I will arrange your departure at once.” With that, he somersaulted and vanished into the depths of the peach grove.

The youth turned his head, his slender phoenix eyes filled with warmth as he looked at the small figure racing toward him.

The little girl ran eagerly, her rosy, translucent cheeks puffed with exertion.

Since he had been able to walk on his own, the little girl Xiao’er had become his shadow, following him everywhere.

When he trained walking in the courtyard, she held his arm and helped him take slow steps, circling again and again, her face flushed red in the sunlight, never seeming tired.

When he sat beneath the peach tree reading, she would run around giggling and chasing butterflies, her laughter filling the small grove with joy and warming his heart.

When he went to the mountain to gather firewood for the women, she would hop along, helping him bundle the wood. While he chopped, she climbed trees like a little monkey or picked colorful wildflowers to weave into a wreath she wore on her head, then ran up to him, asking, “Ninth Brother, do I look like a little fairy?”

He would gently touch her tender, shining face and smile, “Xiao’er, you are indeed a little fairy.” The girl’s delighted giggles echoed through the forest.

When he practiced swordplay, she would take the small bamboo sword her mother had carved for her and mimic his moves, swinging the sword with surprising skill. He would wipe the sweat from her face and bring her a bucket of water to drink.

After drinking, she would smile and say, “The water is so sweet.” He tasted it himself, finding the flavor unchanged and plain.

She was like a beautiful little sprite, bringing vibrant color to his black-and-white existence, making his life vivid and interesting, filling him with a warmth he had never known before.

Once, Xiao’er said to him, “Ninth Brother, I heard that cultivating immortality is very fun. Let’s go to Shu Mountain to cultivate together someday.”

He replied, “Alright, I will take you with me to Shu Mountain to cultivate immortality.” The little girl’s smile blossomed like a flower.

Whenever he thought of Xiao’er bounding and laughing by his side, warmth surged through his cold heart.

Born into a noble royal family, he had over twenty half-siblings. Yet he had never known the warmth of kinship.

As a child, he was poisoned with the deadly “Drunken Peach Blossom” toxin, which ravaged his skin, leaving his face disfigured and foul-smelling. Everyone who saw him looked on with fear and disdain, avoiding him as if he were contagious.

He had no friends growing up—lonely, sensitive, and sorrowful—with a stubborn spirit burning in his small chest.

The royal family knew no affection. He understood this truth early on. Not only did siblings betray and harm him for power, but even his own father treated him coldly. From a young age, he grasped the cruelty of the world and the fickleness of human heart.

Thus, he grew strong and self-reliant, enduring the torment of illness. He was learned and eloquent, trained in internal cultivation and refined swordsmanship.

Though he was humble and patient, daily tormented by the virus and deeply poisoned, though his life was short, he was feared and hunted by his royal half-brothers, nearly losing his life.

A cold sneer curled his lips as he gazed at the distant mountains, his slender phoenix eyes filled with icy resolve. As long as there was even the slightest hope, he would never give up on himself.

Yet, here in this backward little mountain village, he had met two strangers who were closer to him than family—Aunt Ming and little Xiao’er. They remained by his side, refusing to abandon him, doing everything possible to prolong his life. Aunt Ming went to the mountains daily to gather herbs, treating his wounds and purging the poison.

Xiao’er not only disliked his ugly appearance but stuck by him cheerfully every day, letting him carry her, hold her hand, or support her, making him feel the fulfillment of being needed, the responsibility of a brother, the care of a family member, the concern of a friend.

He genuinely loved this innocent little girl from the bottom of his heart. He swore that if he were still alive in ten years, he would return to find Xiao’er and be her brother, protecting her always.