My Journey to Immortality Begins with Hunting

Night deepened, and the stars cloaked the sky.

Li Yuan twitched a finger and slipped home for supper.

After the ordinary warmth of family time, he and Yan Yu climbed into bed. Holding her close, he told her about the day—about the smith couple now living in their old house, and about his weaponsmithing days in the Holy Tree Temple.

Yan Yu had spent enough time leading an almost‑human life that a hint of warm color now bloomed beneath her deathly pale skin. The moment Li Yuan finished his tale, she smacked his arm, huffed, and wriggled away, presenting him with her back.

"So you're that talented, talented enough to pour your own lifespan into a sword! If you're such a big, famousMaster Li, why come running back to one lonely wife and child? Go on, stay out there and bask in your glory!"

Li Yuan had already decided to stop hiding the truth.

A few nights earlier, in their pillow talk, Yan Yu had fretted over ways to lengthen his life.

Tonight, Li Yuan was going to lay everything bare. He reached for her shoulders, but they had gone rigid and cold. He might as well have tried to move a mountain of iron.

"I rack my brains figuring out how to keep you and Sheng'er alive, and you throw your life away! Don't you ever think of your wife and daughter?"

A wave of icy Yin energy spilled from her body. She was genuinely angry.

Li Yuan inched closer, propped himself on one elbow, and whispered beside her ear. "I'm...different. I was born with what seems like endless lifespan. The gift awoke when I was 17. I used to worry you'd grow old and die before I told you, but that fear's gone now."

"Liar." She sniffed.

"I'm not lying, to the living or the dead."

"I...don't believe you."

"All right. When your man reaches fifth rank, I'll forge a weapon right here and let you see it with your own eyes."

"Forget it. Stop using that life‑burning trick."

"Yan Yu, I really have more lifespan than I can spend. It's a gift, an inborn constitution."

"I'm already a ghost; how could I have missed hearing about such a constitution?"

"That's something on thehumanside of things; being a ghost doesn't mean you know all human business, does it?"

The old couple bickered; she stayed doubtful, but, after a bit of coaxing, the iron stiffness melted away and she let him pull her around.

When their ardor finally cooled, Yan Yu grudgingly said, "Fine, then try it."

Li Yuan explained, "Gong Lang once told me that if I forged in a place of extreme Yin, the Yin energy would rushe straight into the weapon and give it miraculous properties. Do you think it would work here?"

She looped her arms around his neck and pulled a regretful face. "No. Pure Yin energy rises from the ground and pours into one area. When it erupts, it latches onto an obsession and becomes a ghost. Once the Yin energy is swallowed up by ghosts, what's left for your weapon? Your only hope is finding a piece of land about to turn into an extreme Yin pocket."

Li Yuan sighed. "No wonder weaponsmithing is so difficult. Even with Earth Appraisal, Master Gong spent decades hunting before he finally found Yin-wind Cliff in Peeping‑Eye Gorge, right before he died."

Yan Yu's eyes sparkled with mischief. "But your wife is a ghost. The breath I blow is pure Yin. While you forge, just tell me when to breathe. It might work as well as any extreme Yin ground."

"Really!?" Li Yuan exclaimed, bringing her into his embrace.

This was an amazing workaround. With 500 years of lifespan from him and a fountain of Yin from her, forging would feel like coasting downhill.

Yan Yu giggled. "Look at you, still a child at heart." She nestled against him and closed her eyes, her cue for him to sleep. He needed rest to replenish his strength; she, who only pretended to sleep, would slip out later to the local ancient ghost street, hunting rumors of the Deathless Tomb. Sadly, the ancient ghost street here was as barren as the living settlements.

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Over the next week, Li Yuan spent each daylight hour spying on Martial Lodge under its new guise as the Blade Seekers.

Patience, meticulous observation, and the borrowed sight of his birds slowly peeled back the veil. What he saw surprised him. About 4,000 disciples crammed the place. The Lotus Cult sent fresh recruits almost daily and was already planning to enlarge the compound.

Its rules were even stranger. The place was completely locked down. Once a disciple entered the Blade Seekers, they would not step outside again unless they broke into sixth rank. No leaving, no news from the world beyond the walls.

Anything that abnormal had to hide something monstrous. Li Yuan grew doubly cautious. In the winter sunlight, the main building of the Blade Seekers glinted, majestic, imposing—and to his eye, no less than a vast, resplendent prison.

On the seventh day, Li Yuan was still perched in his tree. Suppressing every trace of his presence, he watched the countryside through the eyes of scattered birds. Charging in blind had never been his style; he wasn't some hot‑blooded youth.

A breath of unseasonable warmth drifted by. Snow began to fall. It was soft,warmsnow.

It melted on his skin with a pleasant heat. Where the flakes touched the ground, grass that should have been winter‑withered suddenly burst with eerie vitality. Even the old tree's remaining leaves gleamed an unnatural emerald.

Li Yuan narrowed his eyes. After so long in the field he knew this warm snow was peculiar to Gemhill County; nowhere else saw anything like it.

Of course, this meant something here was very wrong.

Just then one of Li Yuan's birds reported a flash of brilliant blood‑red.

His sight snapped to it.

A hollow sphere the size of a small hill—woven from streams of blood thick as pythons—floated in mid‑air.

Inside strode a woman, expression cold, sword of black and white in hand. Every step was slaughter. Seventh, sixth, even fifth rank foes were sliced apart the instant they neared the sphere.

She was wrapped in that blood sphere yet her white robes billowed; devilish aura tangled with righteous energy, an overwhelming force that pressed the land flat. Wherever she passed, bodies piled up; the corpses cooked like thick soup, blood boiling out and flowing back into her sword. Wherever she happened to not pass, enemies scattered like startled sparrows.

No one wanted to stand in her way.

It was Gu Xuejian. She hung above Gemhill County like an avenging Immortal...or a Devil. Some locals stared upward in awe; most bolted indoors, barred the shutters, then peeked out trembling, not daring even to breathe.

Li Yuan was stunned.Gu Xuejian's this fierce? She's marching straight into Lotus Cult territory alone?

The numbers floating over her head had risen from 2,588~23,100 to 4,166~28,483. Not absurdly large, but clearly an advance.

So she's broken into fourth rank?Li Yuan raised an eyebrow.Truly my son's teacher—reckless as the lot of them. But wouldn't it be smarter to consolidate her cultivation first?

Still, there was no denying her power. Each stream of blood that poured into her demonic sword seemed to feed her. A faint flush lit her cheeks; killing clearly excited her.

Li Yuan figured that if she unleashed the Lightning Piercer ability of the white sword now, she could hit the top of that 28,483 ceiling. Even other fourth rank martial artists would hesitate to block her path; her buffs were stacked to the sky.

He made his bird drift casually aside, not daring even a sidelong glance for fear of being mistaken for a target.

After every cultist that was brave enough to show their face lay dead, Gu Xuejian swooped down and looked toward Silver Creek. Moments later, she rose again, now escorting an ornate coffin plus a live pig, sheep, and cow.

She drifted south and landed in Little Ink Village...right in front of Li Yuan's old house, which had become a smithy.

The seventh rank blacksmith who had once bluffed the man from the Red Lotus Cult was petrified. Facing this murderous goddess, he couldn't so much as twitch.

"This used to be Li Yuan's home?"

"Y‑yes...yes." His teeth chattered.

"Why are you living here?"

"I...admire M‑Master Li," he stammered. Behind him the woman in the blue handkerchief dropped to her knees, begging for mercy.

"Admire him if you like, but don't copy him. He was a fool." A wistful note threaded Gu Xuejian's voice. "Move out. This will be his tomb now. I don't want it disturbed."

"Y‑yes, ma'am!"

Mopping cold sweat, the blacksmith summoned a scrap of courage. "M‑may I tend the grave? I—"

Silence. Then, her voice drifted through the air, "Permission granted."

"T-thank you for your graciousness!" The blacksmith exhaled in relief.