Immortal Path! Immortal Path! (Three Chapters, 11,000 Words, Seeking Monthly Tickets)

"Young sir, would you come out and meet with Qiu Yue for a moment?"

Song Qiuyue stood outside the pill chamber, her voice soft and gentle, a sound that made one's heart itch with anticipation.

She was just eighteen or nineteen years old. Though she lacked the myriad charms of the Twelfth Lady, she possessed the unique grace and delicate beauty of a woman her age. With careful grooming, her arched brows and lively eyes made her already remarkable presence all the more striking.

Chen Huangpi was her chosen path to survival. She believed that the old Daoist cherished Chen Huangpi dearly; if she became his woman, she would not simply vanish without a trace. As for the marriage contract between the Song and Li families, it no longer held any meaning at this point.

Suddenly, with a creak, the door to the pill chamber opened a crack. Song Qiuyue’s eyes lit up. But then, a battered brass oil lamp thrust itself out. The lamp, golden and covered in bite marks, looked quite tattered.

“Chen Huangpi is busy refining pills and has no time for you. If you have something to say, say it quickly.”

Song Qiuyue was disappointed, yet she knew this lamp was no ordinary object. It was the very treasure that had recently shone with golden light, coveted even by deities.

Therefore, though met with such discourtesy, Song Qiuyue dared not show the slightest displeasure. Instead, she demurely offered a bow and said, “Qiu Yue greets Brother Huang.”

“Oh, quite the sweet greeting. Say it again, let me hear.”

“Qiu Yue greets Brother Huang.”

Song Qiuyue felt the lamp’s sly gaze roaming over her, as if it wished to see through her entirely. This made her both angry and flustered.

“Please, Brother Huang, convey this to the young sir: Qiu Yue has studied under a renowned master and knows a little about pill refining. If the young sir does not mind, Qiu Yue would gladly assist him and ease his burdens.”

“You know pill refining?”

The brass oil lamp shifted its gaze from her legs to her waist. “Tell me then, how does one refine pills? How many can you make in a single batch, and how large is each pill?”

Song Qiuyue replied calmly, “The art of pill refining has existed since before the world changed. Though the path of cultivation has evolved and ancient methods are lost, the essence of alchemy remains unchanged. The number of pills per batch depends on the principles of yin and yang. Yin yields six, yang yields nine. Multiples of six and nine, such is the rule. As for pill size, it is best small; too small is inferior, too large is defective.”

She added, “This is merely basic knowledge. To truly discuss the art of alchemy would take three days and nights without end.”

Clearly, Song Qiuyue truly understood pill refining. In the Da Kang realm, women were barred from the imperial examinations and could not hold official posts like Song Tiangang. Upon reaching the Nascent Soul stage, there was little left to pursue. They would refine pills, paint, marry and bear children, and upon reaching eight hundred years, become deities. Thus, Song Qiuyue had apprenticed herself early to a master alchemist. All she said now was the truth. The brass oil lamp could not discern otherwise.

The words made the lamp’s gaze lift from her waist to her face.

“Why do you look at Qiu Yue so, Brother Huang?”

“Because your words are excellent!” The oil lamp exclaimed with excitement. “I knew Chen Huangpi’s method was wrong. Who ever heard of pills larger than two heads put together? And Heavenly Poison Pills at that—who but the abbot could swallow one whole? I must have a word with him!”

“Thank you, Brother Huang.” Song Qiuyue sighed in relief. In the end, it was not her beauty that won her favor, but the pill refining arts she had learned to pass the time.

However, her relief was premature.

The brass oil lamp remarked in surprise, “Why thank me?”

Song Qiuyue paused, then said, “Brother Huang, you introduced me to the young sir. Should I not thank you?”

“You silly girl, who do you think you’re calling Brother Huang?”

The brass oil lamp scoffed, “Whatever trick you’re playing, I can smell it a mile away. The scent can barely be contained. Introduce you, indeed. This is the Pure Immortal Monastery—who do you think you are?”

It had only come out to see Song Qiuyue because Chen Huangpi told it to. Otherwise, with its disdain for even death spirits, would it spare her a single word? Before Chen Huangpi, it was the brass oil lamp; before others, it was the Nine Underworld Divine Lamp. As for the abbot—best not mentioned!

With a snap, the brass oil lamp slammed the door shut, leaving Song Qiuyue standing outside, her hands clutching her sleeves tightly.

This wretched lamp deserved to be destroyed!

Just then, the pill chamber door opened again. Chen Huangpi emerged, holding the brass oil lamp.

“Young sir, you’re here!”

“I heard you’re quite knowledgeable in pill refining?” Chen Huangpi looked Song Qiuyue up and down, licking his lips and saying, “You look even more beautiful than yesterday. Truly lovely.”

At his words, Song Qiuyue bowed slightly, and her fitted robe slipped a bit lower. She glanced at the lamp and noticed a fresh fist mark on its side.

She understood at once—this young man’s heart had been stirred.

“Young sir, your words are so direct, I hardly know how to reply,” Song Qiuyue said, her cheeks blushing like a lovesick maiden.

Chen Huangpi’s heart pounded ever faster. Forcing down his discomfort, he said, “There’s no need for formality. Tell me, were those words about pill refining just now yours?”

“They were mine,” Song Qiuyue replied modestly. “Brother Huang said the young sir is a master of alchemy. I am but a novice with shallow insights. If I spoke wrongly, I beg your pardon.”

“I cannot pardon you,” Chen Huangpi said seriously. “You know I am proficient, yet you flaunt your knowledge before me. That is utterly detestable. Especially your so-called pill refining methods. ‘Small is best, large is defective’—what utter nonsense!”

“You had best not refine pills at all, or don’t blame me for smashing your furnace!”

He grew angry at the thought. All his techniques were taught by his master—if they were wrong, then his master was wrong. But his master was omnipotent, how could he possibly be wrong?

“Remember this: all medicine has some poison, and pills are medicine!” Chen Huangpi lectured. “If you refine too many pills in one batch, the potency is diluted. Pills should be as large as possible—large is good, large is beautiful. That is my final word. Do not make a mistake.”

“But I still think the young lady makes sense,” the brass oil lamp muttered after a moment’s struggle.

It had watched Chen Huangpi refine pills. Though he followed the Heavenly Poison Pill method, the lamp provided the true fire and the ingredients. Chen Huangpi merely made a few hand seals and controlled the heat. The rest was left to the Nine Dragons Heaven-Refining Furnace. Compared to Song Qiuyue’s logical explanation, Chen Huangpi seemed mistaken.

Chen Huangpi frowned, “Huang Er, you think so because her alchemy is heresy. It sounds reasonable, but on closer inspection, it’s all nonsense. I am different—I am well-versed in the Medical Canon, read widely, and am a prodigy of alchemy. Pure Immortal Monastery is a righteous sect, so my methods are orthodox. What I say goes!”

Whether or not the brass oil lamp believed this was unclear, but Song Qiuyue now felt half-convinced, half-doubtful.

Yet on reflection, she realized the Pure Immortal Monastery was a den of devils, nothing like a righteous cultivation sect. Never mind, she would simply agree with Chen Huangpi.

With this in mind, Song Qiuyue forced a smile and said, “Yes, I have strayed down the heretical path. Only by meeting the young sir today do I realize what it means to be a true genius of the righteous way. If I could ever remain by your side and bask in your righteous light, I would die without regret.”

“As long as you understand,” Chen Huangpi said, swelling with pride at her praise.

But in the next instant, he realized something was wrong, for his killing intent grew stronger. He frowned. “You want to follow me often?”

“Yes, Qiu Yue admires the righteous way and naturally wishes to remain close to it,” Song Qiuyue replied, feeling deeply embarrassed at her blatant hint. Surely the young man would understand?

“I see!” Chen Huangpi exclaimed. “You’re trying to renege on your debt, aren’t you? No wonder I felt murderous when I saw you. Where are my two mountains of copper coins? Hand them over—now!”

It was about this time yesterday that he and Song Qiuyue had made their agreement, clearly written in the Soul-Summoning Register. Song Qiuyue had promised two mountains of copper coins as payment and had said she would stay for only one day. Now it was time to pay up.

At his words, Song Qiuyue’s face changed. “The copper coin mountains… this…”

Her mind had been solely on Chen Huangpi, and she had forgotten about the debt.

“Young sir, as a daughter of the Song family of Qinghe, I would never go back on my word. Please—”

“Enough nonsense! You’re of the Song family, and I’m my master’s disciple! Either pay up or pay with your life!”

Chen Huangpi’s gaze sharpened, his face turned cold, and with a flick of his fingers, a razor-sharp sword aura three feet long sprang forth.

The sword energy was fierce and unmatched! At a single glance, Song Qiuyue’s Nascent Soul ached inside her. That sword intent—laced with exorcising and demon-slaying power—made her entire body tremble. She looked at Chen Huangpi in disbelief, then lowered her head, heart surging with shock, as if the heavens themselves had collapsed.

It was the Tai Sui Demon-Slaying Sword Technique…

The very technique preserved in fragments by the Song family.

If that were all, it might not matter, but this was an ancient method. Any modern cultivator who practiced it would become twisted and demonic. Yet here was Chen Huangpi, a contemporary cultivator, who had mastered this ancient art without any sign of corruption.

Song Qiuyue knew all too well what this meant: the Nascent Soul road that was believed to be cut off for cultivators—forcing them to become deities instead—had been reopened by this boy from the Pure Immortal Monastery in the Ten Thousand Mountains.

The path of immortality…

The realization made Song Qiuyue’s legs tremble uncontrollably.

“Huang Er, what’s wrong with her?” Chen Huangpi asked, seeing her strange reaction.

The brass oil lamp thought for a moment and replied, “Perhaps your killing intent was too strong and you frightened her into losing control. I say just finish her off. Didn’t Ghosty fall into a coma? She’d make a fine offering. Oh, and don’t forget the other cultivators—they all signed, too.”

Chen Huangpi nodded, “Don’t worry. I won’t forget.”