Where Immortals Once Walked

After playing with it for a long while, He Lingchuan finally yawned. “It won’t be easy to get you fixed, but I’ll do my best.”

He was about to return the saber to its usual place when a thought struck him. He recalled how Zhong Shengguang’s room looked and how it had been arranged.

On a whim, he hung the saber on the wall above his bed and then lay down.

Then he reached for the divine bone amulet and toyed with it for a while.

That it was connected to Panlong City was beyond doubt, though He Lingchuan had no idea what changes it might bring about, and he honestly could not be bothered to figure it out now.

The thing had saved his life once before, shielding him from Sun Fuping’s true fire, so he had no intention of taking it off.

This night’s sleep was particularly sweet.

When he next opened his eyes, he found himself standing in a small grove, with a blue sky and white clouds overhead. Not far away stretched lush green wheat fields, crisscrossed by paths; the distant sound of chickens and dogs carried through the air.

At the edge of a field stood two farmers, both of whom were barefoot—one standing, the other squatting—and chatting idly.

Compared to He Lingchuan, their skin was dark enough to gleam, and when they smiled, their teeth flashed white.

One of them asked, “How much longer will you be working the land?”

“Two months and twenty-six days.”

“Lucky you! I have to report back to the military camp tomorrow.” The man lifted a sheepskin bag[1] to take a drink. “Make the most of the time with your wife. See if you can get her to give you a plump little son.”

His companion nodded. “Be careful. I heard that the Tongluo Highlands to the west were hit by a sudden attack and have just fallen. The general will definitely send someone to take it back. That place is easy to defend and difficult to attack, so it definitely won’t be an easy fight.”

“Month after month of hardship, but we still get through each one, don’t we?” The man laughed, patting his friend on the shoulder. “When I come back alive, I’ll come find you for a drink. It better be your treat, though! Hahaha!”

“Alright, you can drink two-wen wine to your heart’s content.”

The man snorted. “When’s the last time you bought wine? With grain running short, the price of wine has gone up. Who still sells it for two wen? I heard from someone at the granary that they’ll stop brewing altogether since it wastes too much grain... Hm? Who’s there?”

Both turned to look toward the grove.

He Lingchuan had no choice but to step out, wearing a pleasant smile. “Misters, may I ask where this is?”

He Lingchuan looked exactly like a passing traveler. His smile was warm as spring sunshine, the sort of harmless approach any other village would find ordinary.

But here, something was wrong. The two farmers were speaking in a language that was not that of the Great Yuan, yet he understood every single word they said.

The two men’s eyes, however, turned instantly wary. One of them asked, “Where did you come from?”

The other asked at the same time, “What are you doing here?”

“Uh... I don’t know,” he admitted. What was I doing a moment ago? How did I suddenly end up here?

His hesitation was all it took for them to close in, spreading apart just enough to flank him from either side.

One seized a carrying pole, the other gripped an iron hoe.

In an instant, the farmers had turned into a mob, and judging from their stances, they were no ordinary field hands. One of them let out a sharp whistle, then bellowed, “Spy!”

The open fields stretched far, and six or seven other laborers nearby dropped what they were doing to grab whatever tools were at hand, charging toward him.

Not one of them hesitated.

“Hey, don’t you dare slander me!” He Lingchuan was dumbfounded. What kind of reaction is this? He had no intention of brawling for no reason, so he spun around and bolted back into the trees.

Behind him, whistles and barking dogs rose in turn, a lively racket. He could hear the slap of straw sandals splashing through mud and water, and it was apparent that it was more than just one or two who were in pursuit.

Fortunately, the grove was small but dense, and he was quick on his feet. After seven or eight twists and turns, the footsteps behind him began to fade.

Then, suddenly, the trees broke open ahead. The grove had come to an end.

Blocking his way was a man-made irrigation canal, the water perhaps chest-deep. On the sandy bottom, small fish and shrimp nibbling on water plants were clearly visible. The problem was that the canal was over sixteen meters wide, so it was far too broad to clear in a single leap.

He Lingchuan sighed, waded in, swam across, and climbed up the slope beyond.

Water sloshed noisily in his boots with every step, chafing and uncomfortable.

Sure enough, the farmers burst out of the woods moments later, only to be stopped by the canal. Apparently unwilling to soak themselves, they just stood there gesturing and shouting.

He was too far away now to catch what they were yelling.

“A pack of rabid dogs, fuck you!” He Lingchuan shot them a middle finger, spat twice onto the ground to vent his frustration at being chased for no reason.

But his expression froze almost immediately, as new footsteps were approaching from behind him.

Turning, he saw a squad of soldiers charging toward him, their faces set in grim determination.

A quick count revealed that there were seven of them, all clad in light armor. And their uniforms looked oddly familiar.

Where have I seen it before? I can’t remember.

There was no time to dwell on it. The lead soldier, well ahead of the others, yanked a knotted rope from his belt and barked, “On your knees, hands up!”

He Lingchuan knew at a glance what it was. They were patrol guards. The knotted rope had likely been soaked in special oils to make it tough to cut. The moment they caught a suspect, they would loop it over his head and wrists, pull it tight, and make resisting impossible.

Compared to wooden stocks or iron chains, these ropes were lighter and easier to carry, making them a standard issue for those in the yamen and city guards for ages. When they shouted “on your knees,” if the suspect dared run, he had to be ready to risk being cut down.

The man in front had pulled far ahead of his fellows.

This time, instead of running, He Lingchuan ran toward him, loudly protesting his innocence while sinking to one knee as if ready to surrender.

Seeing him so compliant, the man naturally slowed his pace, leaning forward to slip the loop over He Lingchuan’s head.

Only, He Lingchuan snatched up a handful of mud and grass from the ground and flung it straight into the man’s face.

The guard instinctively threw up an arm and turned away, eyes squeezed shut.

He Lingchuan sprang forward, yanking the rope from his grip, and in the same motion looped it over his own head instead.

The move was as smooth as flowing water. Before the guard even knew what was happening, still tasting the mud in his mouth, his head and one arm were already bound.

He Lingchuan hauled him close, plucked the long saber from his belt, and pressed it to his neck. Facing the other soldiers pounding up, he barked, “Back! All of you, back!”

As a stranger in unfamiliar territory, endlessly dodging pursuit was no solution; he needed to seize the initiative.

The soldiers, wary of harming their comrade, stopped in their tracks. However, their mouths were as fierce as ever as they shouted, “Let him go, or we’ll smash your egg yolks out later!”

He Lingchuan gave the rope a sharp tug, making his captive’s eyes roll back. “Where is this?”

“Zhao Family Village, have you been drinking?”

“And Zhao Family Village is where exactly?” He Lingchuan’s frown deepened, an ominous feeling creeping in. “Which city, which township?”

They stared at him like he’d lost his mind. “Chipa Plateau, Panlong City, Wenze Township!”

A dull roar filled He Lingchuan’s skull.

Panlong City. This lush, fertile place is actually Panlong City?

Did I somehow enter the illusion realm again?

How did I get in?

Wait, what exactly was I doing just before this? Why can’t I remember a thing?

1. You may refer to the Spanish Bota bag for an example of what this might look like. Just a note, this was likely holding alcohol ☜