From a loser to an immortal sage

Chapter 474 Hidden Secrets in the Wind, Sword Pointing to the Return Path

My hand, gripping the mailbox, was trembling, not from fear, but from the stinging pain caused by the bloodstains seeping into my palm.

The Nine Netherworld Abyss—a metallic sweetness rose from my throat to the tip of my tongue, reminding me of the musty, pungent-smelling "Ancient Chronicles" deep within the library. On its yellowed pages, skulls were drawn in vermilion, with a line of small print beside them: "The burial ground of demonic cultivators, a place where resentment transforms into calamity; touch it and you will be burned."

From outside the hall came Zhou Xianzi's loud voice: "Little Pillar!"

"Don't hold the sword like you're squeezing a radish!" I suddenly woke up, my nails digging into my palm.

Now is not the time to tremble—if the words "Nine Netherworld Abyss" were uttered now, the disciples in the training ground who had just carried the kerosene up the city wall, and the apprentices who were bandaging the wounded last night, would probably be too frightened to even lift their swords.

The letter tube in my sleeve was digging into my wrist. I took a deep breath and rolled up the parchment again.

We need to find Wen Chen first—he's seen three times more storms than I have. If even he can't keep his composure, then we're really going to lose this battle.

When the palace door was pushed open, Atao was squatting on the steps, braiding the hair of the young medicine boy.

The child was carrying a medicine pouch, still covered in bits of grass. "Sect Master," A-Tao looked up, her hair glistening with morning dew, "Immortal Wen went to Eagle's Beak Cliff, saying he wants to investigate the Rolling Stones again."

The wind at Eagle's Beak Cliff is always cooler than elsewhere.

As I walked up the bluestone steps, I heard the dull thud of a log rolling down—"thump, thump"—like it was hitting my heart.

Turning the corner of the mountain, you can see Wen Chen standing on the edge of the cliff, his black wide sleeves billowing in the wind, reaching out to test the thick log.

As he turned around, the sunlight gilded the peaks of his eyebrows: "Finished the kerosene investigation?"

“Wen Chen.” I walked to his side, a letter tube hidden in my sleeve pressed against the back of his hand. “That letter just now… was from a Demon Palace assassin.”

His fingers paused on the log.

The wind whipped his hair across my face, and I smelled the familiar scent of agarwood—the same scent, mixed with the smell of blood, that had entered my nostrils last night when he shielded me from the roof beam. "Speak," he said, his voice as deep and resonant as a dark river at the bottom of a cliff.

I unfolded the parchment in front of him.

The blood-red words swayed in the wind. His pupils contracted, his Adam's apple bobbed, but he didn't speak.

A titmouse swept across the edge of the cliff, its wingtip carrying a few fallen leaves that landed on the four characters "Nine Netherworld Abyss".

“I can’t say,” I spoke first. “Zhou Xianzi said yesterday that three of the people she brought were touching a sword for the first time.”

General Zhao's hands trembled as he checked the kerosene—not from fear, but from joy, saying he could finally avenge the villagers who had been massacred by the demonic cultivators years ago.

Wen Chen's fingers slowly curled up and pressed against the back of my hand.

He had thin calluses on his palms from years of holding a sword: "You're right."

With morale shattered, even the sturdiest log couldn't break through the demon army's shield. He looked down and drew a line on the ground with the tip of his sword. "The original plan was to move forward by three days."

The kerosene must be sealed today, and all the logs must be in place by 5:00 AM the day after tomorrow.

The assault team changed course and took a tributary of the underground river. I sent Qingluan to scout it out; the mud there is shallow.

As I gazed at the path his sword tip traced, I suddenly recalled what he had said last night when he bandaged my wounds: "Yaoyao, sometimes hiding a secret takes more courage than telling it." Now, his eyes were sparkling, just like when he channeled his spiritual energy into me at the bottom of the icy pool back then—when I was still a useless cripple who couldn't even draw qi, yet he was willing to give me half his life.

The next three days were like a spinning top with its string pulled out, making people dizzy.

I went to the training ground before dawn and saw General Zhao tapping those disciples who were shrinking back with his sword sheath: "Stand up straight!"

The demonic cultivator's blade won't wait for you to stand up straight before it strikes! "Fairy Zhou was practicing chopping wood with Little Pillar. The pile of wood they chopped was taller than a person. She wiped her sweat and smiled at me: 'Sect Master, look! This kid can chop ten pieces in a row today!'" "Pharmacist Lin's medicine hut always smelled of burnt bitterness. When I went to deliver medicine, he was pouring medicinal juice into the Ice Soul Jade, his hands moving as fast as a butterfly flitting among flowers: 'Don't worry, I've prepared 20% more hemostatic pills, and the detoxifying powder has been improved; it'll work even faster.'"

Wen Chen was even busier than me.

Last night I went to his bamboo house to deliver the map and saw a pile of battle reports half a person high on the table. The candlelight made the dark circles under his eyes appear even more prominent.

He looked up and smiled, pushing the now-cold teacup towards me: "We've got a lead on the Star Core solution. Once this battle is over..."

“After this battle is over,” I interjected, recalling what I'd said about the far northern ice fields in the hall that day, “let’s finish what needs to be done first.”

As dusk settled over the city walls, I stood at the highest point of the command platform.

Torches lit up the training ground like a galaxy, and the shouts of the disciples crashed against the city walls, making the banners flutter loudly.

Wen Chen stood beside me without me noticing. His shadow overlapped with mine, like two swords in their sheaths.

"They ate twice as much meat today," he suddenly said. "Pharmacist Lin said that only when you're full do you have the strength to wield a sword."

I looked at those young faces, some with scratches, some with trembling hands gripping their swords, yet all of them craned their necks to look ahead.

The wind lifted the hem of my clothes, and the blood-stained letter in my sleeve gently bumped against the jade pendant.

The secrets of the Nine Nether Abyss remain, but it doesn't matter—when they unleash their first sword strike, when the rolling logs shatter the demon army's formation, when the oil explodes into golden-red flowers in the night sky, I will stand at the very front, together with Wen Chen.

After all, I promised them I would bring them home alive.

The aroma of food wafted in the evening breeze; the kitchen was cooking mutton soup.

Someone shouted, "The soup is ready!" A cheer erupted in the training ground.

Wen Chen turned to look at me, her eyes filled with a familiar warmth: "Want to go get a bowl of soup?"

I nodded and followed him down from the reviewing stand.

The torches behind us stretched our shadows long, longer than the city walls, longer than the underground river, longer than the impending blood and fire.

But it's okay.

Because I know that when the sun rises tomorrow, they will all be the sharpest swords.

The air was still thick with the steam of the mutton soup when dawn was breaking.

I stood outside the kitchen with an empty bowl in my hand, watching the young apprentice tiptoe as he stuffed steamed buns into a bamboo basket—a stronger, more bitter fragrance wafted from the direction of Pharmacist Lin's herbal hut, a fragrance that was more refreshing than usual.

"Sect Master!" Atao ran from the corridor carrying a copper basin with half a block of soap floating in it. "Pharmacist Lin said the new elixir is ready and wants you to go to the medicine hut to take a look!"

I quickened my pace toward the medicine shed, and from half a mile away I could hear the "thump-thump" sound of a stone pestle pounding medicine.

Pushing open the door, one could see that the back of Pharmacist Lin's blue robe was completely wet, his hair ribbon was loose, and he was pouring the last pinch of medicine powder into a jade bottle.

On the table were more than ten celadon bottles, their surfaces covered with fine water droplets, which looked like bunches of grapes glistening with dew in the morning light.

“Look.” He wiped his sweat, dipped his fingertip in some medicinal paste to show me—a dark brown ointment containing gold dust. “This is made with the core of a thousand-year-old Vermilion Fruit; it enhances cultivation.” He then picked up a white porcelain bottle and shook it. “This bottle contains the juice of the Ice Soul Flower. When fighting, crush it and hold it under your tongue; you’ll recover your strength in three breaths.”

I took the white porcelain bottle; it was cool to the touch.

Remembering the night raid by the demonic cultivators three months ago, when Xiao Zhuzi's arm was slashed and he cried while clutching the medicine pouch, "If only the pain could stop right away." Now, the coolness of the bottle seeped into my veins through my palm, and my throat tightened. "Uncle Lin, you haven't slept a wink these past few days, have you?"

He bent down to place the medicine bottles into the sandalwood box, the copper lock clicking as it closed. "Back then, my father's clinic was burned down by demonic cultivators. It was you and your disciples who rescued half of the 'Qing Nang Secret Record' from the fire." He looked up, his eyes reddening. "Being able to see these medicines protecting the children... is a hundred times better than when I was selling wound medicine on the street."

A voice called from outside the courtyard: "Sect Master, the flags in the martial arts arena are all hung up!"

General Zhao said the mobilization rally can begin!

I hugged the medicine box to my chest and bowed to Pharmacist Lin: "After this battle, I will personally go to the far north ice plains to find snow ginseng for you—you've always said you wanted to try using snow ginseng with the Bone-Healing Pill."

He smiled and waved, "Go on, don't keep the children waiting."

The sunlight in the training ground was brighter than usual.

As I walked along the bluestone slabs toward the command platform, I passed by Fairy Zhou's procession. Little Pillar was standing on tiptoe to tie her crooked hair tie.

Seeing me approach, Fairy Zhou patted Xiao Zhuzi's back forcefully: "Boy, straighten your back—when the sect leader speaks, you need to make sure the demonic cultivators can hear your voice from ten miles away!"

"Yes!" Xiao Zhuzi's voice was still tender, which made the "Xiao" character on the banner flutter loudly.

The wooden steps of the command platform were a bit uncomfortable to walk on. After I stopped, I looked down at the platform. General Zhao's armor was polished to a shine, and the old scar on his shoulder was reddened by the sunlight. The medicine boys stood in the front row with their medicine boxes, and the newly made porcelain bottle of Pharmacist Lin gleamed at the mouth of the box. Even Xiao Die, who was usually the most timid, was clutching a dagger, her knuckles white but she refused to let go.

"Everyone!" My voice crashed against the city wall and then fell back into the training ground. "Three months ago, I was forced into a corner by demonic cultivators at the bottom of the icy pool."

It was Immortal Wen who saved half my life, it was General Zhao who led twenty brothers to fight their way through, it was Fairy Zhou who shielded me from that poisoned sword with her own body—"

A chorus of "Sect Master!" erupted from below the stage. Zhou Xianzi wiped her face and roared, "That sword was already cleaved into eight pieces by me!"

I smiled and continued, "We didn't come here to die in battle."

Pharmacist Lin's medicine can give us three more sword strikes before we fall, Immortal Wen's rolling logs can smash through the demon army's shields, and the oil buried under the city wall can burn half the sky red—" I paused, looking at Xiao Zhu's reddened eyes, "We are doing this to get home alive!"

So that the village elders could cook us hot porridge, so that my little sister could run into our arms and cry, so that the house burned down by the demonic cultivators could have smoke rising again!

"Go home alive!" Someone shouted first, followed by General Zhao's hoarse "Go home alive!", and then Zhou Xianzi's tearful "Go home alive!" Finally, the sounds from the entire training ground collided, making the wildflowers in the cracks of the city bricks bloom even more brightly.

Wen Chen was standing to the side of the command platform at some point, his black wide sleeves covered with wood chips from the rolling logs.

He nodded slightly to me, and when his gaze swept across the audience, the dark circles under his eyes faded a little—last night he was reading battle reports in the bamboo hut until midnight, and when I went to deliver ginseng tea, the candle wax had piled up into small snow mountains.

"That's enough," I raised my voice. "Go eat a bowl of hot porridge and put away Pharmacist Lin's medicine."

As the crowd gradually dispersed, Fairy Zhou grabbed Little Pillar and ran towards the kitchen, while Little Butterfly chased after the young apprentices, shouting, "Wait for me!"

General Zhao walked down from the reviewing stand, looked up at me and smiled: "What the sect leader just said was even more pleasing to the ear than what my mother told me when she sent me to the battlefield: 'Kill the enemy and serve the country.'"

Just as I was about to reply, Wen Chen handed me a cloth bag: "Atao said you didn't eat any steamed buns this morning."

The steamed buns in the cloth bag were still warm, with the aroma of sesame seeds.

I took a bite and suddenly remembered last night in the bamboo house, when he pointed to the map and said, "The tributaries of the underground river are shallow in silt," his voice also carried that same steady warmth.

“I’ll go check on the city wall,” I said, wiping a sesame seed from the corner of my mouth, “to see if all the logs have been put back in place.”

Wen Chen nodded, then stopped as he turned to leave: "Don't stay too late."

"Know."

As night fell, I stood at the highest point of the city wall.

The wind whipped up distant lights that brushed against my face—that was the direction of the Demon Palace, indistinct like a blob of ink that couldn't be dissolved.

The jade pendant at my waist bumped against the letter tube in my sleeve. The blood-red words of the Nine Netherworld Abyss were still there, but at this moment I could not hear my own heartbeat. Instead, I heard the snoring from the training ground, the crisp sound of dishes being cleared in the kitchen, and the rustling sound of pages turning in the warm bamboo house.

I reached out and touched the city bricks; the cracks were still covered with wood shavings that Xiao Zhu had splattered when he chopped firewood during the day.

Will these bricks be stained red with blood when the sun rises tomorrow?

Will it get hot from the kerosene?

do not know.

But I know that when the first ray of sunlight shines on the command platform, Fairy Zhou will be the first to raise her sword, General Zhao will shout the loudest battle cry, Little Pillar will clutch Pharmacist Lin's medicine bottle tightly, and Wen Chen and I will stand at the very front to shield them from the first wave of blades.

The wind grew a bit cooler, so I wrapped my coat tighter around myself and gazed at the blurry light.

tomorrow.

What should come will always come.