Where Immortals Once Walked

Hu Min froze for a moment—he had never heard such an odd request before. But just then, another knock sounded at the door. It was a messenger from Captain Xiao Maoliang of the Gale Army, summoning Hu Min. A squad had been assigned extra duty patrolling the outskirts; they were to depart immediately.

After a whole night of imperial nectar rain, some creatures on the Chipa Plateau had awakened with new intelligence and were bound to cause disturbances. The Gale Army needed to ride out and keep them from menacing fields and farms.

Military orders were like a mountain in that they could not be disobeyed, and Hu Min wasted no time. He grabbed a pouch of prepared medicine powder, which was bright yellow and far superior in appearance to what He Lingchuan had managed to concoct himself. He Lingchuan pinched out a pea-sized grain and said, “Thanks.”

He then dripped in a few drops of nectar as payment.

“I’ll be off then. Make yourself at home,” Hu Min said, hurrying to change clothes before rushing out.

He Lingchuan took the medicine and waited for two full quarters of an hour. However, nothing happened. His body felt exactly the same, as if he had swallowed nothing but air.

The experiment was a failure. Long-term enhancement pills had no effect on him.

So there really was no such easy windfall in this world. Even though he had half expected it, he still let out a regretful sigh, then left Hu Min’s house and made straight for the Office of Merits.

Since he could confirm the nectar was useless to him, it was best to trade it for military merit.

On duty that day at the Bureau of Bright Prospects was Merits Clerk Liu, busy as always. When he heard that He Lingchuan had come to turn in imperial nectar, he merely beckoned with his hand. “Let’s see it.”

Even though imperial nectar was incredibly valuable, Panlong City was vast. There were always some who, for one reason or another, did not consume what they had gathered.

Merits Clerk Liu dipped a needlepoint into the jar, examined the droplet, gave it a sniff, and said, “It has some impurities. It’s about mid to low-grade. I’ll accept it.”

By his reckoning, that one jar of nectar was worth more merit than He Lingchuan’s last mission, where he had stayed behind at Xiqing Gorge to cover a retreat. After all, rescue work for the Gale Army was routine, but imperial nectar was a stroke of fortune.

This time, the reward matched the last, with several extra medicinal salves for both internal and external use.

He Lingchuan grinned. “If everyone turned theirs in, wouldn’t everyone be able to swap for a new wood house?”

Merits Clerk Liu was solemn. “Few would ever choose to hand such a thing over.”

Of course, besides self-use and official exchange, there was always the black market.

Merit had to be accumulated piece by piece. Without enough, nothing worthwhile could be redeemed.

“My shack is good enough. Can I trade for a proper weapon instead?” At least here in the dream, he was not picky about housing. Back when he played games, others spent money on costumes and skins, but he never spent a cent.

“What kind?”

“A saber.” He had entered Panlong City barehanded and sorely needed a weapon for peace of mind.

Merits Clerk Liu disappeared into the back room and soon returned with a ring-pommel saber[1] and a whetstone.

The blade gleamed coldly, though the spine bore two small notches. The grip was worn, and the ring at its end long gone.

“Its owner fell at Mount Baimo last year,” Merits Clerk Liu said gravely. “It’s a good blade. Use it well.”

He Lingchuan weighed it and spun it around once. It was heavy, but balanced. It was a fine fit for him.

“Thank you! I’d also like to redeem a few divine techniques. I heard the fundamental internal techniques here are free?”

Merits Clerk Liu reseated himself and waved him toward the door. “Just head right across the street to the Bureau of Invigoration.”

* * *

The Bureau of Invigoration stood by the river, with half of it literally built over the water.

Inside, He Lingchuan found a riverside pavilion, where two old men sat. One was in black, the other in white, but they looked exactly alike.

It was still early, only the second quarter of the hour of the dragon, and after last night’s nectar rain, the place was deserted. He Lingchuan’s sharp ears caught the pair muttering over reports. Someone had apparently stumbled on a great lump of nectar paste and triggered a neighborhood brawl; monsters and beasts near the mines were stirring, resulting in miners getting injured; basically, there was trouble everywhere.

He Lingchuan stepped forward, bowed, and said he was here to request a fundamental internal technique.

The old man looked him up and down and asked, “You’re not a native of Panlong City, are you?”

“I’m from Tusu City, but I’ve already settled here.”

“No wonder,” the old fellow said. “In that case, you’ll need Master Zhang to run the test first.” He shook a bell that dangled just half a meter above the water. Its clear chime spread through the entire riverside pavilion.

“Step down and stand there.” A sloping ramp led directly into the river. The surface was half-covered with broad lotus leaves, their tight pink buds attracting a few dragonflies that perched motionless on the tips.

The moment He Lingchuan approached, the dragonflies darted away.

With a splash, several long, snake-like tendrils whipped out from beneath the water, reaching to coil around him.

Startled, he instinctively leaped back.

“What are you running for? Stand still!” The old man sounded impatient. “Master Zhang won’t harm you.”

Only then did He Lingchuan see them clearly. They were thick tentacles, each as broad as his waist at the base, tapering to whip-like tips covered in suckers.

Behind them rose an oval head, rough and ridged with sharp, backward-slanting spines.

Two round, black eyes, each the size of a grapefruit, stared right at him.

“Zhang...” A giant tentacled monster?!

Unknown to He Lingchuan, the old man had actually meant zhang as in tentacle rather than zhang as in the surname.

A voice sounded in his head, “Come here, let me have a feel.”

The human fear of tentacles ran deep in the bones, but He Lingchuan knew he had no power to resist. Gritting his teeth, he stepped to the edge of the water.

The tendrils wrapped around him, clammy and cold with that soft-bodied slickness, and he shivered as they latched onto him. The suckers settled precisely over his key meridians, one after another.

He felt a chill seep into him, and his true qi sprang to life, racing through every channel in his body.

“Your foundation is solid. Impurities cleansed. Acceptable,” muttered Master Zhang as it prodded him here and there. “Mm, good, strong bones.”

“Ah, vigorous blood and qi, abundant essence. Very good indeed.”

Its tone was so strange that even He Lingchuan, thick-skinned as he was, found himself flushing. The two old men, however, were unbothered. “Oh, that just means his essence hasn’t been depleted yet.”

Master Zhang gave him a few more forceful presses, then at last withdrew its tentacles.

The two old men shuffled over, the three bald heads huddling together in a murmured discussion.

He Lingchuan remembered Hu Min telling him that the Bureau of Invigoration would assign each cultivator a personalized internal technique. He had not expected the examiner to be a river-dwelling monster.

Of course, Panlong City housed more than just humans.

Still, a freshwater octopus living on the high plateau? Truly, the world never ran out of wonders.

Yet he had to admit, eight arms were better than two. With its tentacles, the creature could check nearly every meridian point at once, gaining a complete picture of his true energy flow. That was something that humans could never match.

The only aftereffect was the dozens of round red marks left all over his body.

Before long, their deliberation ended. The two old men spoke in unison, “We are unanimous. The Meridian Art[2].”

Of Panlong City’s five public internal techniques, they had chosen the Meridian Art for him.

He Lingchuan coughed lightly. “Could I borrow the other four to have a look?”

Again, they spoke together, “No.”

“...”

“With your limited knowledge, how would you know which suits you best?”

“Mixing internal techniques is harmful, not beneficial.”

“What is not yours, best not even touch.”

“We’ve chosen for over nine thousand people, never once in error.”

Their back-and-forth was seamless—same tone, same rhythm, same pitch. If one closed one’s eyes, it was as if only a single voice spoke.

Master Zhang slid back into the river and vanished. One of the old men opened a wooden cabinet, took out a jade slip, and pressed it into He Lingchuan’s hand. “The internal technique is within. Extend your spiritual sense and you will see.”

He Lingchuan could not resist fiddling with the jade slip a few times. Back at the bottom of Immortal Spirit Lake, he had once explored an immortal’s cave abode and found several jade slips there as well, yet every last one had been blank, without a single word recorded.

Who would have thought Panlong City used the same medium?

He sent his spiritual sense into the slip. Sure enough, an entire internal technique unfolded within. Though the script was archaic, utterly unlike the present age, he could read every word without a stumble.

More wondrous still, when he released the slip, the method remained imprinted within his consciousness, as vivid and unshakable as if carved in stone. Every line, every stroke, fixed forever in memory.

There was no need to memorize. This was a flawless, complete replication.

He Lingchuan marveled inwardly. Surely this was an invention from the age of the immortals.

The old men gave him a few final instructions, then held out a hand. “That’s enough. Hand it back, others will need it too.”

He Lingchuan quickly said, “Aside from a fundamental internal technique, I’d like to trade my merit for some divine techniques.”

“Divine techniques are divided into two categories: martial and arcane,” said the old man in white. He pointed to himself. “I am Master Ying. I oversee the martial.”

After saying that, he indicated to the man in black. “This is Master Man. He oversees the arcane.”

“There is no good or bad among divine techniques, only what suits you and what does not suit you,” Master Ying explained. “Since you practice the Meridian Art, it suits you to enter the Dao through martial cultivation. Later, when you’ve gained mastery, you can add in arcane arts or spells.”

Master Man nodded. “If you live long enough, that is.”

Master Ying produced a lengthy catalog. He Lingchuan’s eyes swam as he scanned it, but then Master Ying said calmly, “Your accumulated merit is only enough to exchange for two divine techniques.”

Then why spread out a list of over a hundred names in front of me? He Lingchuan forced a courteous smile. “Master Ying, please advise me.”

“In battle, everything boils down to two things: the ability to strike, and the ability to escape.” After a pause, Master Ying said, “I’ll choose a movement technique for you, called Swallow’s Return. If you can become as nimble as a swallow in flight, then you’ve successfully learned the technique.”

Master Man added, “Foundational techniques must be solid. Don’t underestimate them. The Red General himself excelled at Swallow’s Return.”

He Lingchuan’s eyes lit up. “The Red General practiced this too?”

“Of course. It was he who transcribed it into the jade slip with his own hand.”

“I’ll take it!”

But then He Lingchuan’s curiosity stirred. He pointed at the catalog. “How many techniques did the Red General record altogether?”

“Eighteen,” Master Man said without concealment. “The rest are beyond your means.”

He Lingchuan’s longing only deepened. “Then I must trouble Master Ying once more. Please choose another technique for me, one suited to striking.”

Master Ying glanced at the saber at his waist, then turned to confer with Master Man. At last, he said, “Then take Wave-Cleaving Slash.”

He rose and rummaged for some time before finally returning with two jade slips.

He Lingchuan accepted them with reverence, quieting his mind to imprint the contents within, then returned them with equal care.

“Once you’ve mastered these two techniques, come find me again,” said Master Man. “When spells are paired with martial cultivation, great feats are possible.”

Master Ying added, “And remember, Lord Zhong requires the Hall of Inquiry to hold frequent lectures. Attend those often, as you’ll always learn something new. Divine techniques are well and good, but they are external tools. In the end, success or failure rests on the two hearts.”

He Lingchuan bowed. “Please enlighten me.”

“The internal technique, and the state of mind[3],” Master Ying said. “The internal technique must be honed through diligent practice. As for the state of heart, you can only temper through life-and-death.”

After all the battles he had endured, He Lingchuan felt the truth in those words. He gave thanks with due solemnity and left the Bureau of Invigoration.

Crossing back over to the Office of Merits, he could not resist drawing in a long breath.

The old turtle monster’s cryptic verse had urged him, in the real world, to keep his edge hidden and his light sheathed. Very well.

His first step onto the true path would begin here, in the dreamscape!

[End of Third Arc]

1. This is a type of single-edged blade with a ring-shaped pommel, commonly used during the Han dynasty as a military weapon. ☜

2. Note that meridian here refers to the meridian clock, so this should basically be a method of guiding qi through the body’s meridians in sync with the cosmic time cycle. ☜

3. Note that internal technique (心法) and state of mind (心境) both contain heart/mind (心). Also, note that I’m aware that 心法 isn’t always translated as internal technique, but in this case, that seems to be what it’s referring to. ☜