Chapter Two: The Reason for Taking Action

My grandfather was initially reluctant to agree, but then he remembered that the one thing the immortals despise most is disbelief. In their eyes, if you don’t trust them, why should they help you? If my grandfather dared to shake his head, the man before him might just stand by and watch me die.

So my grandfather gritted his teeth. “Great Immortal, how should it be cut?” he asked.

The man drew a short sword from his person. “Use this. Cut close to the flesh, just slice it down.”

My grandfather placed me on the altar table, gripping the tumor on my foot with one hand and the short sword in the other. He pressed the blade beneath the lump, took a deep breath, and pulled it toward his chest, slicing the lump clean off.

He immediately looked at me. Aside from a red mark on my foot, not a drop of blood had spilled. The tumor, now in my grandfather’s grasp, began to wail with heart-wrenching cries, struggling desperately as if it still wanted to cling to me.

At first, my grandfather could hold onto the lump, but soon he felt it gnawing at his palm, sharp teeth scraping his skin, leaving it stinging and raw.

The man standing at a distance gently clapped his hands. Suddenly, a mountain rat over a foot long darted into the temple from outside.

“Throw it on the ground!” the man commanded.

Without hesitation, my grandfather flung the lump away. The mountain rat leapt from the ground, seized the tumor in midair, and raced off, disappearing without a trace in the blink of an eye.

My grandfather was stunned, staring blankly for a long moment before stammering, “Great Immortal... what is happening?”

The man replied, “Keep cutting those lumps off. Don’t waste time. Toss them out as soon as you cut them off—the mountain rats are waiting.”

My grandfather no longer hesitated, raising the short sword and continuing to cut at my body.

The man continued in a calm tone, “The tumors on your grandson weren’t grown, but attached—so there’s no blood when you cut them.”

“Don’t be deceived by your wife only grabbing a handful of earth from a grave. She happened to take it from the exact spot the dead vie for. There, the bones of more than a dozen dead are buried. By grabbing that earth, she brought all those spirits home.”

“Those dozen dead fought for that spot underground. Now, attached to your grandson, they fight for him. If they can’t seize him outright, they struggle to occupy their place. If you don’t cut off the tumors, they’ll keep fighting in your grandson’s body until one emerges victorious.”

After my grandfather tossed away the last lump, he wiped the sweat from his brow. “Great Immortal, is my grandson safe now?”

The man said, “This is only the beginning. The mountain rats will keep running with the lumps until they die of exhaustion. How far they go, where they end up, depends on your grandson’s fate.”

“Moreover, those spirits are merely taken away, not dispersed. Sooner or later, they’ll return. When they do, that’s when true danger arrives.”

My grandfather, terrified by these words, fell to his knees. “Great Immortal, I beg you to save my grandson!”

The man replied, “Years ago, you did me a favor. I can help—but how I help is another matter.”

My grandfather was stunned; it was clear the immortal’s words held deeper meaning.

For a fleeting moment, my grandfather wondered if the favor he’d done was enough for the immortal to fully protect me.

He was a well-known village veterinarian, retired but still doing private work. When he wasn’t home, he was out on jobs. Had he been home, he wouldn’t have let my grandmother dig up grave soil.

When he was young, my grandfather encountered something strange. He had just finished his apprenticeship and was assigned to work for the village brigade.

One night, while he was sleeping soundly, someone knocked on his door. He dressed and peered through the crack, seeing a figure standing in the courtyard, back to the door.

Though puzzled, he didn’t think much of it and casually asked, “What do you want?”

“My cow is having a difficult birth. I need your help,” the stranger replied.

There was a master in the brigade, but he was absent. Cows were valuable in rural areas then—worth more than people. It wouldn’t do to delay. My grandfather quickly gathered his tools and followed the man.

He didn’t know he’d already broken a major taboo for veterinarians. It’s not forbidden for a vet to answer calls at night, but you must clearly see who summoned you. If you can’t see their face, you shouldn’t leave with them—shouldn’t even open the door.

But such taboos weren’t openly taught. Masters would only reveal them after spending much time with apprentices, once they deemed them trustworthy. Otherwise, you risked being branded superstitious.

My grandfather knew nothing of these taboos, and as he walked, never glanced at the man’s hands or feet.

The man led him to the riverbank and pointed ahead. “There’s my cow. Help her give birth.”

My grandfather looked where he pointed—and saw the “Blue Ox Stone,” placed by the authorities years ago as a water guardian. Though a spiritual object, it couldn’t possibly birth a calf.

He was furious. “What’s wrong with you? Dragging me out in the middle of the night for a joke?”

The man’s voice suddenly changed. “If I say it can give birth, it will. If you refuse, you’ll end up like him.”

Looking where the man indicated, my grandfather saw a human hand protruding from the river.

The person must have been in the river for some time, but one hand was bound to the ox’s horn with rope, preventing him from sinking. The nails were worn away, the skin pale from soaking, but on the wrist was a watch belonging to my grandfather’s master.

Had his master been brought here to help the stone ox give birth—and drowned in the river?

The hair on my grandfather’s neck stood up, watching as the man turned around, squinting his eyes at him. A chill ran down my grandfather’s spine—the man’s face was devoid of color, his eyes fierce as blades stabbing into your heart. Anyone would be terrified.

Just as my grandfather was about to speak, a voice sounded behind him. “Doctor, I wish to invite you to assist my wife with childbirth.”

Turning, he saw a man in white standing not far away.

The man who’d led my grandfather here sneered. “Hu, aren’t you the stickler for rules? When you invite a doctor, the order matters. My case isn’t finished—no matter who’s dying at your place, you must wait.”

The man in white retorted, “Within a hundred miles, there are only two doctors. One is dead, the other you summoned here. Who else can I ask?”

“I don’t care. If you cut in line, you break the rules!” the other snapped.

The man in white clenched his fist slightly. “He hasn’t accepted your case yet. Whether he wishes to go with me is his own decision.”

The other laughed. “Fine, ask him if he dares.”

He turned and glared fiercely at my grandfather. “Do you dare?”

My grandfather was cautious in old age, but in his youth he was famous for his fiery temper. He raised his head and answered boldly, “I dare!”

The man was stunned—he hadn’t expected my grandfather to defy him even after one man had already died.

Having spoken, my grandfather couldn’t take it back.

The man in white breathed a sigh of relief. “Doctor, come with me.”

My grandfather turned and followed him, not even glancing at the other man. Only after leaving did doubts arise in his mind.

He had been led to the riverbank by a dead man—and that man was afraid of this white-clad stranger.

Who was this man?

Why did he want my grandfather to help his wife with childbirth?

After all, my grandfather was only a veterinarian...

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