“Immortal…”
A little over a hundred li east of Hangzhou stood a mountain that remained shrouded in drifting clouds and mist throughout the year. Thus, it came to be known as Cloud Mountain.
A young physician lived there, frail and frequently ill. He was only seventeen, yet had been born with a heart condition. His name was Su Yunshen.
A fine, unceasing rain had fallen for two full days. At the summit of Cloud Mountain, white mist stretched as far as the eye could see, veiling the chill rain in a gauzy haze. Dressed in robes white as fresh snow, Su Yunshen walked along the muddy mountain path beneath a blue-and-white porcelain-patterned oil-paper umbrella.
When he raised the edge of the umbrella slightly, it revealed a cool, otherworldly face. His features were extraordinarily handsome and refined, and as he walked through the mist-wreathed mountains, he seemed almost like an immortal banished from the heavens and descended into the mortal world.
The cold wind cut to the bone, drawing an unbearable chill from deep within him. He could not help coughing softly, again and again.
In weather like this, he ought to have stayed home to rest. Yet he had deliberately set out down the mountain. The reason was a medicinal herb called Dragon-Scent Herb that grew halfway down the mountain. It could only be harvested on this one day each year, and after taking it, he would gain enough time to prolong his life.
By the time he found the Dragon-Scent Herb, the rain was beginning to let up. He swallowed it with warm water. A current of warmth rose from his dantian, dispelling some of the cold, while the oppressive stagnation that had lingered in his chest for so long eased somewhat as well.
He had just settled down to rest when, suddenly, a blood-soaked figure staggered out from the roadside.
The stranger wore a pink inner robe beneath a gauzy white outer layer, but both were drenched in blood. It was impossible to make out his original appearance.
The moment he saw Su Yunshen, a glimmer seemed to return to his eyes. He blurted out, “Immortal…”
The word had barely left his lips when his body went limp and collapsed straight down.
Su Yunshen had no time to think. He rushed forward several steps, caught the man’s back, and supported him in the crook of his arm.
“Sir?”
He called softly, but received no response.
Seeing that the man had lost consciousness, Su Yunshen had no choice but to lift him into his arms. He steadied himself and headed toward the summit.
The man’s frame was slender. Though Su Yunshen himself was weak, carrying him did not prove particularly taxing.
Before long, the two of them returned to the thatched cottage at the mountaintop.
By the time Su Yunshen had settled the man in the pink robe onto the bed, his breathing was already faint. Su Yunshen took up a pair of scissors and swiftly cut away the blood-soaked garments.
The sight before him was horrifying.
Knife wounds and sword wounds crisscrossed the man’s body. Clearly, he had endured a fierce battle. Fortunately, although his injuries looked grave, every vital point had somehow been spared. Nothing had struck at his foundations.
Su Yunshen did not delay. He immediately staunched the bleeding and applied medicine. Once the wounds had been properly treated, he fetched a handkerchief, dipped it in water, wrung it out, and gently wiped the blood from the man’s face.
With the grime of blood removed, his true features emerged.
He looked no older than sixteen or seventeen. His skin was fair as snow, his features exquisitely elegant, like a secluded orchid beneath the moon, untouched by even the slightest trace of worldly dust.
As Su Yunshen gazed at that face, something stirred faintly within him. But only for an instant. He quickly suppressed it, replaced instead by a strange sense of familiarity.
Why… did he look so familiar?
He pondered this for a long while. Before he realized it, dusk had already settled over the mountains. At last, he drew his thoughts back, rose, and went to the kiln to brew some medicine.
When he returned, he was carrying a bowl of warm medicinal broth. He set it on the small table beside the bed, then sat down beside the unconscious man and quietly kept watch.
He remained there for the entire night.
The following morning, bright sunlight streamed through the window and fell across the flawless profile of the man in pink.
Perhaps disturbed by the light, the man slowly opened his eyes. He narrowed them slightly as he adjusted to the brightness, then finally stilled his gaze.
Su Yunshen was sitting quietly nearby, watching him.
“Immortal…”
Looking at that cool, handsome face, the man’s heart stirred, and the word escaped him involuntarily.
“You’re awake.”
Su Yunshen reached out and helped him slowly sit up, then brought the warm water from beside the bed to his lips.
“Moisten your throat first. The medicine is warming on the table. You can drink it later. Is there anywhere that hurts?”
The man obediently drank several sips of water and gently shook his head. His body leaned against Su Yunshen’s arm, yet his chin lifted almost unconsciously as he gazed intently at Su Yunshen’s face.
After a while, the corners of his lips curved into a gentle smile.
His voice was weak.
“Thank you, Immortal, for saving my life.”
“No thanks are necessary. I’m a physician. Saving lives and healing the sick is simply my duty.”
As he spoke, Su Yunshen placed his fingers against the man’s wrist, checking his pulse. It was considerably steadier than before, which eased his mind somewhat.
“There are no immortals in this world. My name is Su Yunshen. May I ask what I should call you?”
“Su Yunshen…”
The man repeated the name softly.
“‘Only here within these mountains, where the clouds are deep, none knows where it lies.’ Young Master Su’s name suits you perfectly. Like a jade tree standing deep within layers of cloud, your bearing is elegant and unworldly.”
Su Yunshen fell silent for a moment. He did not respond, merely waiting for the man to continue.
The man lowered his lashes and thought for a moment before saying, “My given name is simply Run. I don’t know what my surname is.”
“Run…”
Su Yunshen repeated the name as well, looking directly into his eyes.
“Young Master, you are as gentle and warm as jade. Your name suits you too.”
It was nothing more than a simple compliment, yet a flicker of complicated emotion passed through the depths of the man’s eyes, and he suddenly lost himself in thought.
Su Yunshen noticed but did not pursue the subject. Instead, he said, “I may be a scholar of a physician, but even I can tell from your wounds that the people who injured you are all renowned martial heroes of the martial world. How did you manage to offend so many of them?”
The question brought the man back to himself. His expression turned somewhat downcast, and he sighed.
“I carelessly offended some wicked people and was framed by them. There were… some misunderstandings between me and these men.”
Misunderstandings… enough to make disciples of those renowned orthodox sects and righteous heroes strike with such brutality?
Suspicion arose in Su Yunshen’s heart. His expression remained impassive, however, and he merely nodded without saying more.
The man seemed to notice his silence. He lowered his head and offered no further explanation.
For a time, neither spoke.
Mountain wind swept in through the half-open window, carrying a trace of chill. The man in pink instinctively gathered his robes closer around himself. Su Yunshen caught the movement from the corner of his eye, silently rose, and closed the window most of the way, leaving only a narrow gap for air.
When he returned to his seat, the doubt in his heart had not disappeared. He simply chose to set it aside for the time being.
From that day onward, the man in pink remained on Cloud Mountain.
Su Yunshen treated his wounds and changed his dressings. Within a little over a month, the man was already able to get out of bed and walk about.
The two occasionally exchanged a few words. Su Yunshen found that the man’s knowledge was broad and his thoughts ran deep. He felt increasingly that they were kindred spirits.
The sky was clear and bright one day when Su Yunshen planned to descend the mountain to purchase some necessities.
Just before leaving, he turned back and asked Wen Run, “Is there anything you need me to bring back? I can pick it up while I’m down there.”
Wen Run thought for a moment, then shook his head.
“Young Master is frail. I’ll go with you. At least I can help carry some things.”
Su Yunshen glanced at him but did not refuse.
The two descended the mountain together. When they reached its foot, they came upon a crossroads where several villages converged. Since it was a necessary route for travelers, someone had opened a teahouse there. Ordinarily, there was never any shortage of passing travelers and customers stopping for a rest.
But something was different today.
Quite a few people stood scattered outside the teahouse, yet they kept their distance, not daring to approach. Shock and fear were written plainly across their faces.
Seeing this, Wen Run’s brows drew together slightly. He lowered his voice to Su Yunshen.
“Young Master Su, there may be a fight inside. I’ll take a look. You wait here. I don’t want you getting hurt.”
Su Yunshen looked toward the teahouse, then remembered that Wen Run’s old wounds had not yet fully healed. He shook his head.
“I have plenty of medicinal powders for self-defense. I can protect myself.”
Wen Run hesitated for a moment but did not try to stop him again.
The two avoided the crowd’s attention and circled around to the back wall of the teahouse. There, they found a narrow crack in a window. Holding their breath, they peered inside.
Two young men stood facing one another in the teahouse, their confrontation on the verge of erupting. Their emotions were running so high that neither noticed the people outside the window.
One of them wore splendid robes. He was strikingly beautiful, almost flamboyant, with seductive eyes and a natural allure in every glance. His features were even more delicate and alluring than those of many women.
At that moment, however, his expression was vicious and twisted, completely overwhelming his natural beauty and leaving only something dark and sinister behind.
The man facing him appeared to be a disciple of the Ethereal Pavilion, the foremost sect in the martial world.
He was around eighteen or nineteen, with upright, heroic features and a tall, straight bearing. A long sword hung from his waist, and his plain blue robes were soaked through with sweat, clinging tightly to his body. His expression was wary, yet his eyes held a stubborn refusal to yield.
Three people were huddled in a corner farther inside: a middle-aged man in his thirties or forties, a boy of fourteen or fifteen, and a young woman whom the two men had shielded behind them.
All three were trembling. They did not dare even breathe too loudly, merely staring at the two men confronting each other with terrified eyes.
Their conversation continued.
After listening for a while, Su Yunshen and Wen Run gathered that the man in the splendid robes was attempting to force himself upon the teahouse owner’s daughter. The Ethereal Pavilion disciple happened to be passing by and could not stand by and watch, so he had stepped in to stop him.
From their conversation, they learned that the man in the splendid robes was named Min Moxuan.
At last, the Ethereal Pavilion disciple shouted, “Whatever happens, I will not let you harm an innocent person!”
“And who do you think you are?” Min Moxuan shot back.
That was the end of their words.
They attacked one another.
Outside the window, Su Yunshen watched the battle. His gaze casually swept toward the man beside him.
“The Right Protector of the Moon-Watching Sect is named Min Moxuan. Have you ever heard of him?”
The Moon-Watching Sect was known throughout the martial world as a demonic sect. Wherever its members went, bloodshed was sure to follow, and people trembled at the mere mention of its name.
At the words, Wen Run’s eyes narrowed slightly.
He did not answer. He simply continued watching the scene inside the teahouse.
Min Moxuan’s martial skill was considerably greater than that of the Ethereal Pavilion disciple. Before long, the disciple fell into a disadvantage, retreating step by step.
Something stirred in Wen Run’s heart, and he was about to intervene when Su Yunshen caught him by the wrist.
“Your injuries haven’t healed yet. You can’t use your inner qi.”
Wen Run’s thin lips parted, but before he could speak, Su Yunshen had already taken a small white porcelain bottle from his sleeve and pulled out the stopper.
“Take this.”
Su Yunshen tipped a pill from the bottle into his palm.
“It will protect your heart meridians.”
“Thank you.”
Without hesitation, Wen Run swallowed the pill and turned his gaze back toward the teahouse.
By then, the Ethereal Pavilion disciple was struggling more and more.
Min Moxuan seized an opening. A flash of cold light appeared, and the tip of his sword shot straight toward the disciple’s throat.
The strike was so fast that there was no way to evade it.
At that critical moment, a length of silk as white as snow silently flew in through the window from outside, wrapping precisely around the sword tip.
The silk was thin as a cicada’s wing, yet astonishingly supple and resilient.
It had come from the sleeve of the man in pink.
The instant he struck, a faint constriction tightened around his heart. Something seemed to stir within his chest, and the slightest trace of blood rose into his throat.
Yet not a hint of it showed on his face.
He calmly forced the taste back down.
“Do not hurt anyone.”
He spoke to Min Moxuan through the window.
The moment Min Moxuan saw the silk and heard that voice, he whipped his head around.
His eyes collided with the man’s.
His expression changed dramatically.
“L-Lord Cult Master—”