My Journey to Immortality Begins with Hunting

South of Great Zhou, early summer.

A faint, chilly fragrance hung between a gorge deep within the mountains, accompanied by the strange howls of unknown beasts.

Yellow dust whirled through the gorge, whipping the bright green grass into long, sharp blades. A gray mountain wind scoured the place, first icy, then scalding, enough to make a hunter sick after only a few gusts, or so the old stories go.

Inside a golden palanquin, the Emperor observed the distant scene, his two narrow pupils gleaming from within the darkness. His gaze seemed less that of a human ruler and more that of a ruthless predator.

The four men bearing the palanquin were unnaturally tall, their backs strangely humped. If Tang Nian were here, she would've immediately recognized them as puppets, crafted with a quality of workmanship much higher than anything she herself could achieve.

Two figures flank the carriage.

On the left stood Lu Xuanxian.

On the right was a pallid, half-smiling man in funeral roles, equal parts eerie and effeminate. He lacked the masculine air of a man, yet he was far from the ethereal beauty of the cult master of the Black Lotus Cult, Peng Mingyi. Instead, he more closely resembled a burly fellow who shaved off his beard and squeezed into a red burial garb, evoking a sense of discomfort in those who laid eyes on him.

This was the imperial tutor, Zhao Gutong, the linchpin binding Apparel Atelier, the Emperor, and the Lotus Cult together.

Ordinarily speaking, these titans should be off directing larger schemes. But ever since themanufacturing chainof The Bladeseekers, exotic beasts, and Green Lotus fearless soldiers emerged, every plot was now hitched to that engine. All they had to do was feed it resources, hold the line, and wait for the army to roll off the assembly line. What grand strategy could be more comfortable?

The Bladeseekers regularly produced fifth rank exotic beasts and sixth rank fearless soldiers. If you were to pair the two together and provide the proper equipment, what would that make?

An invincible cavalry!

Picture this, Green Lotus fearless soldiers astride exotic beasts born from their very own memories, brandishing tailor-made weapons. Add the Great Zhou Treasury and the hidden secrets of the Lotus Cult, and sweeping the world would be child's play.

To that end, the Emperor had opened the Great Zhou Treasury, and the Lotus Cult had invited seven weaponsmiths, gambling that one of them would ascend to a higher plane of craftsmanship.

Now, seven silhouettes approached the foot of the gorge. A hundred paces in, they vanished as if the air itself had swallowed them.

A long time passed.

In the gloom of the palanquin, the Emperor's eyes darkened. He folded his hands on his knees and leaned back, face lost in shadow, but anyone could feel the storm of fury brewing within.

"Your Majesty, looks as though the weaponsmiths were rubbish after all. The Lotus Cult won't be pleased. Heehee…" Zhao Gutong rasped in a duck-like voice. He raised a sleeve, covering his lips, and emitted a shrill, skin-crawling giggle.

"Then let them die. A lone fifth rank spirit artifact means nothing now. If they can't keep up with the new world, let them expire on its doorstep. As for the Lotus Cult…" Lu Xuanxian tilted his chin and flicked a glance at Zhao Gutong. "Tell all four cult leaders to come themselves."

The Emperor stroked his chin and kept waiting. More time slipped by. His patience frayed to the brink. He was about to announce that all seven had perished, when a single solemn figure strode out of the gorge.

A middle-aged man, eyes bloodshot, and hair wild, Zhu Ban planted one foot after another on the dusty ground. He looked left and right and frowned, "I'm…the first one out?"

In the distant golden dragon palanquin, the Emperor's smile gleamed, row upon row of perfect white teeth. He murmured, "Please, step forward."

No one else moved. Only two slips of white paper fluttered from Zhao Gutong's sleeve. They drifted on the wind, then upon touching earth blossomed into two breathtaking women.

Drops of foul-smelling liquid oozed over their paper-pale skin. From afar you'd never notice, but up close a shudder crawled up the spine. They looked like paper effigies soaked in corpse water.

The paper tint faded, replaced by warm flesh. The stench vanished. Snow white silk dresses unfurled around them, and on each delicate back rested a long sword. They looked wholly alive, like barefoot sword Immortals stepping lightly along cloud wreathed peaks.

Any ordinary person who saw them might drop to their knees on the spot, prostrating themselves in worship.

The twofairiesfluttered toward Zhu Ban, white sleeves billowing, their feet skimming the grass.

"His Majesty requests your presence."

Zhu Ban nodded and followed them across the meadow. When they halted before the palanquin, he bowed low. "Your humble servant greets the Son of Heaven."

The Emperor inclined his head, voice gentle. "It seems fate has tied you and me together."

Zhu Ban blinked, then understood. The sovereign was bringing up the matter of the Yin Consort. A subject better left untouched.

For one, the Emperor had fled the Jade Capital without so much as a backward glance at Cui Huayin. For another, she was no longer his consort. She had remarried. The man who'd snatched away the Yin Consort was almost certainly dead by now, true, but he was someone Zhu Ban had come to admire.

That same man had forged Sun And Moon Aloft, a masterpiece Zhu Ban had never been able to surpass. Even after the Lotus Cult tipped him off to an errant pure Yang region and he'd hammered out his own pinnacle work—a quasi fourth rank weapon with its own domain for Peng Mi—it still fell short of that demonic blade.

Such a man was Zhu Ban's son-in-law. Whether he lived or died, the old smith refused to deny or diminish him. To honor that man was to honor all weaponsmiths and himself.

Stubborn as ever, Zhu Ban answered evenly, "If fate exists between us, Your Majesty, it starts today."

A hush settled over the palanquin.

The Emperor's voice came flat and unreadable, "Be seated."

At once, one of the sword Immortals dropped to her knees. Her back arched in a graceful curve, and she offered herself as a living chair.

Zhu Ban froze. The lurid spectacle clashed violently with both his tastes and his principles. His beard quivered in the breeze he involuntarily snorted.

"Your Majesty, I thank you for the seat. But this old man stands by habit, and I see all your lords are standing as well. So, I shall do the same."

He bowed again and took his place beside Zhao Gutong.

No reply came from within the carriage.

Time crawled on.

The sun slid behind the peaks; dusk bled crimson over the mountains. Of the remaining six sixth rank weaponsmiths, not a single one emerged.

Realization and a flicker of anger clouded Zhu Ban's eyes, though he masked it quickly.

From inside the palanquin came the soft clap of imperial hands. The palanquin pivoted and began the return journey.

Zhu Ban called out, "May I ask, Your Majesty, where are my six colleagues?"

This time, the Emperor let Lu Xuanxian answer, his voice a resonant jar. "They are dead. A chance lay before them; they failed to grasp it, so death claimed them. Tell me, Master Zhu. Have you not profited handsomely yourself? Such gains never come without risk. Something gained, something lost. The greater the prize, the steeper the price. Surely a weaponsmith such as yourself understands?"

Zhu Ban held his tongue. He accompanied the procession back to camp, then broke away, heading straight for the Black Lotus quarters.

Watching him leave, Zhao Gutong gave a shrill giggle. "Your Majesty, he does not wish to become your esteemed father-in-law."

The Emperor's face remained ice.

"I believe I know what he's thinking—" Zhao Gutong began.

However, Lu Xuanxian cut in, "If His Majesty desires, I can seize the Yin Consort this very night. Grant her a new title, and Master Zhu will bend the knee."

The Emperor snapped, "I have women beyond counting. If she scorns the position of consort, the misfortune is hers."

Lu Xuanxian chuckled. "They say a married woman brings a different flavor to the bed. Fresh amusements, sire. After so much fine fare, why not try a rustic dish?"

A long silence followed.

Then, the Emperor's voice rang out. "We wait. I wish to see what heights Zhu Ban reaches, whether he merits placing that self-degraded woman back among my branches."