My Journey to Immortality Begins with Hunting-Chapter 591 - Revisiting - Part 2

Sword Mountain Pass was far behind Li Yuan’s party now.

The empty towns they passed looked like ghost towns.

Truthfully, in these times, even finding a single-entity ghost domain was rare. Give it a few more years, and the ghost domains themselves would fade into myth, barely remembered.

However, beneath one of those towns, in a corner few would notice, there was a small, forgotten courtyard house. And below that house, a faint rustling sound had begun.

Sunlight had only just reached this place, melting the frost off rooftops and walls.

Water ran in rivulets through the streets. The yellow earth was cracked and furrowed, like the weathered skin of an old man.

The rustling beneath the house could easily be mistaken for nothing more than melting ice.

But beneath the surface lay a vast underground chamber, larger, even, than the courtyard above.

Buried deep enough that no sound from the outside world could reach it.

More than that, the only passage linking it to the surface had long since been sealed with molten iron. The only connection left was a tiny ventilation hole high above.

It was a place meant to be completely cut off from the world.

And as the frost thawed, what emerged from the darkness was...people.

Or at least, things that looked like people, flesh intact, faces lifelike, skin full and ruddy.

They stood in neat rows. Old men, young girls, women, boys, an entire crowd frozen in place.

But something was off.

Their faces were rigid, locked into various expressions, as if someone had hit pause on a stage play mid-performance. None of them moved a muscle.

They were puppets.

And if the puppeteer died, the puppets too would cease to move.

Their puppeteer lay among them.

She wore red. Barefoot. Hair wild and loose. Her once-alluring face had gone ashen in death.

A flame blade still clutched in her hand, she lay slumped over one of the puppets, a man.

The fervent devotion in her expression, that crazed, obsessive gaze, it had all been frozen in the moment of death, preserved by the ice. But now, as the thaw set in, her features began to soften.

When the last of the frost melted away, her body gave in, and she collapsed forward, falling into the man’s embrace.

The man was clearly another puppet. But unlike the others, he was massive, his body impossibly broad and imposing. The woman in red, even standing upright, would’ve only reached his chest. Now, even in death, all she could do was fall into his arms.

Drip, drip, drip... The thawed water tapped softly onto the stone floor.

A shaft of sunlight pierced through the tiny ventilation hole overhead, only to be replaced moments later by moonlight. Day and night cycled endlessly like grinding ants on a whetstone. No one knew how much time had passed.

Eventually, just as the red-robed woman’s body was beginning to rot, the man beneath her, her puppet, twitched a single finger. Then, his heavy-lidded eyes snapped open.

Slowly, he raised his hands, gently lifting the red-robed woman off of him and placing her to the side with reverent care. He knelt before her, leaning close to her decaying form. Then, in a sudden motion, his left hand reached out and took the flame blade she still clutched in her death grip. A surge of heat pulsed through it as his blood essence stirred, the blade flared to life, and every trace of frost and moisture vanished from its surface.

He pressed his hand to the floor. Instantly, the surrounding air ignited, vaporizing every speck of dust in the chamber.

Turning back to the red-robed woman, he angled the blade downward and brought it slowly toward her chest.

With a delicate slice, her robes parted, revealing the pale grey contours beneath.

The blade avoided those graceful peaks and instead carved straight down along the center of her breastbone, exposing veins, tissue, and sinew.

The man moved with stunning precision and speed.

He looked down at her with an expression of warmth and kindness, too human, too full of feeling to belong to a mere puppet.

Then, without hesitation, his right hand stabbed into his own chest, plunging past thick layers of muscle. In an instant, he pulled out his heart, veined with strange metallic filaments and flickering with threads of fire.

He pressed it into the hollow of the woman’s chest.

The moment contact was made, a fiery domain erupted, burning her withered heart to ash in a flash. The replacement slipped in perfectly, as though it had always belonged.

Though he no longer had a heart, the man seemed unaffected. His emotions were fading quickly now, draining away. But in this moment, those emotions still burned. Still alive.

He tightened his grip on the flame blade and began the operation.

After so many years...he had seen it all. But until now, it had always been her who did this for him. Now it was his turn.

He smiled. Tears rolled down his cheeks, real tears, the kind puppets didn’t shed.

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After 13 short years, Ji He was already gone.

Two years ago, he died during a ceremonial tour.

The official record read that the Emperor fell ill after being badly frightened by a demonic beast, passing away a month later.

His posthumous title wasn’t anything grand, not the glorious Martial Ardent of the former Human Emperor, but the modest and formulaic Benevolent.

His successor was his eldest son, Ji Zheng.

Ji Zheng was 12 years old. He had only just reached sixth rank, barely and only thanks to a mountain of resources poured into him.

Due to his age, an imperial tutor had to assist in running the state, and the Empress Dowager handled daily affairs.

But above the Empress Dowager stood the Grand Empress Dowager, He Si.

And so, she was the one truly in charge.

In recent years, a rumor had been circulating throughout the Central Capital.

It claimed that among the cultivators who journeyed east to the Immortal Domain, one had returned with news that they’d discovered a surviving clan lineage from the famed Bladeseekers.

This clan not only possessed cultivation techniques to reach third rank, but also held secret arts capable of completely eliminating internal threats.

Members of the Bladeseekers were numerous. Some newer sixth rank cultivators were already exhibiting signs of instability, spending half the day lucid and the other half in madness.

Having waited endlessly for someone to help resolve their hidden dangers, these cultivators were starting to grow restless. Temptation was beginning to take root.

It wasn’t just the newly advanced sixth rank cultivators. Once the first person made a move, the rest of the fifth and sixth rank disciples started getting restless too.

And so, the disciples of the Bladeseekers began flocking eastward in waves.

The Eastern Sea was still being opened up. It needed labor, and cannon fodder was always welcome.

What had once been two flying ships a year was now six.

As a result, in just over two years, the number of disciples left behind had dwindled significantly. Most of those remaining were already preparing to leave as well.

The Eastern Sea’s Immortal Domain had no interest in draining the well for short-term gain, so naturally, they offered some tangible rewards to these expendables, as incentive, and as an example to others.

˙·٠✧🐗➶➴🏹✧٠·˙

Star Manor.

The 45-year-old Zhen’er was sipping a bowl of plain soup.

Her face radiated kindness and poise, her every movement graceful and dignified.

Last year, her husband had also departed for the Eastern Sea.

Compared to imperial power, the Eastern Sea was the true destination for high rank martial cultivators. Even the Prince of Stars had been no exception.

But her son, Ying An, had stayed behind. Partly because he had grown up under her influence, watching her tirelessly serve the people, he too had developed a desire to do something for the land and its people. And partly because, like Zhen’er, Ying An had no cultivation talent whatsoever. He couldn't go to the Eastern Sea even if he wanted to.

Still, this mother and son pair had become known among the common folk as the Great Bodhisattva and Little Bodhisattva for their constant acts of kindness.

Ying An hadn't inherited much of his father's good looks. In fact, he was rather plain. His features bore some resemblance to that of Zhen’er, but not quite as refined. No one was quite sure which ancestor to blame.

At that moment, he rushed in through the arched gate, bowed to Zhen’er, then dismissed the serving maids before complaining in a low voice, “Mother, things are getting harder and harder.”

He gritted his teeth. “The He Clan is leading the charge, but almost every noble house is now pushing for a system of enfeoffment. These clans want land, people, taxes...they’re all trying to become local warlords.”

Zhen'er looked at him calmly and said, “Back when the Human Emperor had only just passed, they were already itching to move. Later, someone tried to make the first move, but I personally shut it down.

“Still, those high rank cultivators, how many of them don’t have cousins, in-laws, or childhood friends? Sure, they can head east, but they all want to tear a piece off the Great Zhou and leave it behind for their kin.

“And land ownership is the only way to do that. Once land gets divided up, it belongs to the clans, and we’ll no longer have any right to interfere with their people or their fields.”

Ying An hesitated. “Then, Mother...maybe...should we...”

He trailed off, clearly reluctant to voice his thoughts.

Zhen'er’s expression grew solemn. She slowly shook her head.

Ying An’s eyes reddened. He suddenly took a few sharp breaths, then clenched his jaw and said, “Mother! You...you can’t tell me you don’t suspect how the late Emperor died?”

“...” Zhen'er looked at him quietly.

He burst out, “A demonic beast startled him? Really? Where would a demonic beast even come from? How could a little scare kill the Emperor? He was fifth rank! A fifth rank cultivator! No way a simple fright would kill someone like that!

“He didn’t die from shock, he was taken out. They found him troublesome, so they made their move. The late emperor was from the He Clan—and now the Grand Empress Dowager who’s running the state...she’s a He too!”

“A tiger doesn’t eat its cubs,” Ying An said, his voice raw.“But the He Clan murdered their own Emperor.”

He looked straight at his mother, eyes bloodshot. “And they did it because they’re no longer just a clan. They’re a network, a web of powerful families, elite cultivators, entrenched interests. They’re so bound together now, they can’t stop even if they wanted to. This is the tide of history, Mother. You and I...we can’t stop it.”

Zhen'er opened her mouth, but before she could speak, Ying An pressed on, already anticipating her argument.

“Yes, Heaven’s Net is strong. But not stronger than the human heart. Not stronger than the tide. Do you really think the losses Heaven’s Net suffered lately are just because the outside world is getting more dangerous?” They’re not. Those losses are deliberate, These people are cutting off our wings, one by one.

“I know what you’re about to say. What about Zhao Chunxin? But even she, no matter how strong, can’t fight a hundred enemies with two fists. Her Black-clad Guards are gone. The few dozen cultivators still following her? That’s already incredible.

“Mother...we’re just ordinary people. Can’t we just live the rest of our lives... normally? We’ve done enough. Haven’t we?”

His voice broke. His eyes were red, lips trembling. These words had been bottled up for a long time.

The pressure outside was unbearable. They were nobles, yes. But instead of siding with their peers, they were fighting against them. It was madness.

And the threat of death was no longer abstract. It had taken up permanent residence in his heart, a storm cloud that never left.

“Mother, do you know how many nightmares I’ve had lately?” Then he fell to his knees, sobbing. “If we back off now, they’ll leave us alone. But if we wait too long, if we keep pushing, they will act. They killed the previous Emperor. What makes you think they wouldn’t kill us? They would. They will!”

Tears streamed down his face.

Ying An was no longer a young man. Just last year, he’d become a father himself, a son and daughter.

He didn’t want to see their family, after all its good deeds and merit, destroyed in the end.

Zhen'er remained silent, and Ying An mistook it for wavering.

He pressed on, choking up. “Mother, I know you were incredible. In your time, you were the strongest of them all. No one in the world dared touch you, dared defy you.

“But that time is over. Mother...even if you won’t think of yourself, please...think of your son. Of your grandchildren.”

Zhen'er lowered her head and let out a long, weary sigh. Then she reached up and rubbed her eyes. They were red now, with fine wrinkles tracing the corners.

She wasn’t young anymore. And the Star Manor...was hers alone now.

Inside her heart, countless doubts circled, and every one of them pointed toward a single person.

Someone she only barely remembered, a youth. He’d been holding a spinning top in his palm, like a street magician performing a trick.

The top had spun and spun, then floated into the sky, and never came down.

Who...was he?