A Record of a Mortal's Journey to Immortality: Sword on My Back, I Question the Azure Heavens

That day, the rain fell hard over Yellow Maple Valley.

I stood outside the rickety bamboo fence around the Hundred Herb Garden, holding an oil-paper umbrella. Mud splashed all over my blue cotton robe, but I didn't care. I just watched the dark-faced junior brother crouching in the field, carefully loosening the soil around his spirit herbs.

He was completely absorbed, like a squirrel hoarding pinecones for winter. I'd seen that look before, on the starving dogs fighting over food in Qingniu Town, and in Doctor Mo's sinister smile. It was a fanatical devotion to one thing: staying alive.

I sighed, put away my umbrella, and knocked on the wooden door.

"Junior Brother Han, the rain's pouring down. Even the herbs need to sleep. Why not come inside for a cup of hot tea?"

Han Li whipped around, his hand already on his storage pouch. The wariness in his eyes was like a freshly drawn dagger: cold, sharp, and utterly devoid of warmth.

"Senior Brother Gu." His voice was hoarse, his body tense. "This junior is slow-witted and doesn't dare slack off."

I smiled, unbothered by his suspicion. This Cultivation world is like one enormous dye vat, turning everyone into vengeful ghosts. But I'm stubborn, and I can't help thinking there should be more to life than immortality. A cup of hot tea on a rainy day, for instance. Or a little talk about the principles that ought to govern heaven and earth.

"The tea's made from old tea-leaf scraps, and the water's collected from the back mountain." I walked under the eaves and shook the raindrops from my umbrella. "No spirit stones. Just half an hour of your free time. Dare to have a cup?"

Han Li hesitated for a long while. At last, the hand resting on his storage pouch relaxed...