My Journey to Immortality Begins with Hunting

Against the monochrome backdrop of the black market ghost domain, the heavy Yin energy felt almost solid like strands of underwater grass, writhing and twisting before drawing by some unseen force into a whirlpool.

Li Yuan sat cross‑legged at its center. Behind him, the blue robed Yan Yu, gently smoothing out his long hair.

As long as the ghost domain endured, she would endure, and so she chose to remain at Li Yuan's side forever.

Heat steamed from Li Yuan's body; a furious flame burned inside him. In contrast, a single flick of Yan Yu's sleeve released a bone‑deep cold. Yin and Yang coexisted, crimson and black weaving a scene both mysterious and strangely tender.

The days slipped by.

From time to time, Sheng'er returned. With each visit, Li Yuan and Yan Yu told her there was nothing to worry about; her father had simply encountered a minor snag in his cultivation.

A child should only eat well, play happily, and embrace the joys of life. Parents never burden their children with their troubles. No matter how deep the injury, they always smile reassuringly, dismissing it as merely a scratch.

To Sheng'er, her parents seemed as composed as award‑winning actors, effortlessly masking the severity of Li Yuan's illness. So, she always returned to her life as the carefreelittle saintessof the Tang Sect, without the slightest trace of worry.

Her new identity opened doors to experiences she had never known before. Whenever she ventured out with Tang Nian, she basked in the attention and admiration of the masses. She forged friendships with Tang Pang, Tang Ling, and many other direct disciples, creating a close-knit circle of friends. She even snuck her first sips of liquor with them for the first time; despite finding it too harsh, she forced herself to gulp down a little to share in the festive mood.

Only when Sheng'er left did Li Yuan and Yan Yu dare to breathe out.

One day, Yan Yu studied Li Yuan for a long while and knitted her brows in worry.

"Husband, the Yang energy within you is thickening. It used to rage everywhere, stray currents battering your body. Had your body been weaker, you'd have boiled alive. Now it's no longer scattered; it's concentrating. I'm afraid it may burn a hole clear through you."

"Ah, I see." Li Yuan nodded. Thehigh feverhad broken, letting him sense what had happened.

At first, the excessive compressed heat ignited his insides. The flame he perceived was only the chance spark struck when those hot currents collided, appearing and vanishing at random.

Now, hounded by the surrounding Yin, that heat was collapsing inward on his lungs. It was as though the soldiers of Yang were encircled by the army of Yin, their front contracting, growing ever tighter yet more cohesive.

Li Yuan had thought the flame was fading; in truth it was gathering. With the compression, sparks had become the norm. A real flame coiled in his lungs; every breath he exhaled was scorching almost like that of a dragon.

Only Yan Yu, lying against his chest each day and quelling him with Yin energy, kept his ribcage from charring through.

Knowing he had such a master of cold beside him, Li Yuan dared to experiment. Whatever blaze erupted, his wife could smother it.

Why hasn't this flame turned into my own power? I just need to get my foot in the door, and the system will handle the rest!

The image of the blazing bonfire in the middle of the Trueflame Tribe's settlement drifted into his mind. Chin in hand, he pondered.

The flame was inside him already; the fact it hadn't killed him meant a degree offusionhad begun, only far too shallow.

It's in me. So how do I push it deeper?

Three ideas surfaced—

The first idea was that ghosts survived by linking themselves to Yin. So could he link himself directly to the Yang?

Second, he could treat the flame like shadow blood. By circulating it around his heart, he could transform it into something similar to the five strands of source blood revolving outside his ancestral seal.

Third, he could try driving the flame straight into his heart. In this world, the heart served as the core of a martial artist's power. A fifth rank heart could grant rebirth as long as it endured, while fourth rank made every drop of blood the equivalent of a heart.

Each idea had glaring flaws.

The first was purely theoretical. How did oneconnectto the flame? Was he supposed to stand on a bonfire and roast?

The second was brutally difficult. He could move shadow blood because it already held the power of his ancestral seal, but the flame was passive, squeezed together only by the hostile Yin. He couldn't yet command it, much less send it through elaborate circuits.

The third was mechanically the simplest. He could simply herd the flame toward his heart, but the risk was obvious. One misstep and he'd be hosting an episode ofDumb Ways to Dielive, cooking himself from the inside out.

Li Yuan closed his eyes, weighing danger against desire, seeking a path that would let the flame become his own. Yet his cultivation really had stalled. He wasn't in danger of dying, nor was he close to a breakthrough. That said, he also could no longer stay away from the black market ghost domain for long; the Yin here was the only thing keeping the flame within him in check.

Cultivation was cultivation; life still had to be lived.

˙·٠✧🐗➶➴🏹✧٠·˙

Soon, the year drew to a close.

Tang Nian and Sheng'er lugged home crates of New Year's delicacies to honor their parents.

Not long ago, Xue Ning had collapsed with a serious illness, a debt of exhaustion finally come due. Even after she quieted her affairs, the ailment burst forth. She could spend her days only beside a brazier. After some recovery, she insisted on visiting Li Yuan, flanked by two maids.

Li Yuan, seeing how frail she was, dared not let her enter the Yin soaked depths of the black market ghost domain. So the family laid a round table right on the boundary line—half in and half out.

Hot dishes out in the living world, cold dishes inside the realm of ghosts.

Yan Yu and Sheng'er sat on thecoldside; Xue Ning, Tang Nian, and the Tang Qiu puppet took thehotseats; Li Yuan planted himself squarely in the middle.

Xue Ning, face white as paper, coughed until her chest ached, feeling light‑headed, as though drifting above ground. Li Yuan clasped her hand, an upright human stove, warming her while they chatted about Ping'an.

She pressed a hand to her brow and murmured, "The Central Plains grow messier by the day. The Five Elements Alliance have somehow dragged both Buddhist and Daoist factions into the mud, and Heaven knows what promises the Son of Heaven made to win over so many provincial governors. Now it's the Five Elements Alliance, Buddhists, and Daoists versus the emperor, governors, and the Lotus Cult. Ping'an is a direct disciple of the Holy Tree Temple. I worry about him night and day."

Li Yuan sighed. "That brat refuses to come home; returning would cut off his future, worse than killing him. When the surf roils, only heroic blood is left on the sand. We parents want our children safe; the children have dreams of their own."

Xue Ning fell silent, gripping his hand, lips trembling with unspoken pleas. The message was plain to everyone except innocent little Sheng'er. She hoped Li Yuan would go out and shield their son, keep him alive long enough to grow strong.

But how could she utter it? She knew what Li Yuan was wrestling with, knew he could survive only by keeping his furnace body inside the black market ghost domain's winter. Asking him to leave would be nothing short of cruel.

Li Yuan broke the hush. "Have any big battles broken out yet? Any exotic beasts on the rampage, sieges, razed cities?"

Xue Ning shook her head.

So Li Yuan laid out the Lotus Sect's plan as he understood it and finished. "Until they breed enough of those exotic beasts in bulk, the true peak of the conflict won't arrive. Before that, Ping'an should still be under the protection of the Holy Tree Temple."

Xue Ning managed a faint smile, then doubled over, coughing harder. She tightened the quilted coat around her, yet the cold still leeched in. The deep winter of Cloudpeak Province was ice atop snow and snow atop ice.

The reunion meal was a noisy one, yet every heart carried its own freight except Sheng'er's. She chattered away about new friends, about where she planned to travel next, about every amusing thing that had happened lately. By the end, she alone was still bubbling.

Li Yuan, Yan Yu, Xue Ning, and Tang Nian all stared at their own knots of thought, each fixed on an unshakable purpose. Sheng'er became the family's little ball of sunshine.

Tang Nian was only 11 years older than Sheng'er, but the tribulations of life had hammered her mind into premature sharpness. She was not only mature but reckless, the kind of recklessness that feared neither pain nor death. She'd already lost everything that she held important once. All that remained was a fierce determination. Her quiet poise hid a storm.

She suddenly leaned toward Sheng'er and grinned. "Our little miss failed to tell you that an inner sect prodigy has sent her a love letter."

Sheng'er squawked, "I don't even like him! Why bring that up??"

"It's just too delightful." Tang Nian laughed. Eyes half‑lidded, tipsy and gleaming like crescent moons, she added, "Let me tell you, nothing inside Tang Sect slips past me. I've already memorized that letter of yours."

"What?!" Sheng'er turned pale.

Tang Nian cleared her throat, dropped her voice an octave, and proclaimed, "To the esteemed Saintess, ever since our parting at Fall Creek three months ago, the breeze and bright moon of that night linger before my eyes…"

"Aaahhh!" Sheng'er swung her little fists at Tang Nian while desperately trying to clamp a hand over the older girl's mouth.

Tang Nian slipped aside with a twist, burst out laughing, and bolted.

Sheng'er tore after her, fists pumping.

Laughter, shouts, and the thud of running feet filled the air—warmth enough to chase back the winter wind.