Where Immortals Once Walked

The man was fair-skinned, with a round face and a rounded nose. He Lingchuan recognized him at once. It was none other than the battlefield medic A’Luo.

A’Luo shot Hu Min a glare. “Buying herbs. Don’t block my way!” Can’t you see I’m busy?

“I brought Brother He to you. He needs a prescription for imperial nectar!”

A’Luo turned to He Lingchuan, blinking in puzzlement, clearly not recognizing him. Not everyone carried the protagonist’s glow that made them unforgettable at a glance.

Hu Min coughed. “Remember the Gorge battle? He broke an arm, and I broke a leg. You wrapped us both up like rice dumplings. Ring any bells?”

A long “Ohhh” escaped A’Luo’s lips. “So that was you!” He seized He Lingchuan’s arm, pressing lightly with his fingers, then nodded in satisfaction. “Good constitution, he’s healed even better than you.”

That did not sound right to He Lingchuan. A broken arm was no minor thing; “a hundred days to heal bones,” as the saying went. Even with spirit medicines, a full recovery in a month was nearly impossible. Hu Min, who was clearly still limping, was living proof of this.

His own quick recovery was only because he lived outside this dream. Every time he left, the injuries vanished with it.

A’Luo, despite his medical knowledge, did not seem to find it strange, though. If there were any explanation for this, then it had to be the broken saber’s work. Dreams warped logic, making the unreasonable seem perfectly natural.

A’Luo looked at Hu Min again. “Is he the only one who wants a prescription?”

Hu Min rubbed his hands together, grinning sheepishly. “If it’s no trouble, maybe make one for me too?”

“Only if it’s no trouble? Then no.”

He Lingchuan cleared his throat. “Time’s precious. Isn’t A’Luo heading out to buy herbs?”

“Fine, I’ll write one for both of you.” A’Luo glanced at Hu Min. “But you’ll have to reimburse me for the ingredients I’ll be using for my own batch.” He then pointed a thumb at his shabby wood house before saying, “I’m broke. I can’t even keep up with the basics.”

“Fine, fine.” The corners of Hu Min’s lips twitched. “It’s only a bit of military merit. Your big brother here has it.”

A’Luo ushered them inside, took their pulses, examined their true energy circulation, and then drafted separate prescriptions for each of them.

His brush flew swiftly and steadily, and his writing was surprisingly clear, not the indecipherable scrawl of most physicians. Comparing the two prescriptions, He Lingchuan saw several ingredients that differed.

A’Luo finished quickly, thrust the papers into their hands, and rattled off the refining method for imperial nectar powder, “Any container works, just don’t use metal jars!”

He Lingchuan committed every word to memory, then discreetly passed over a small pouch containing an ounce of chewing tobacco.

It was a fine thing to use as a gift.

Accepting it, A’Luo’s expression softened. “You’ve more sense than Hu here. If you’re ever sick or short on herbs, come find me again.”

The two stepped back out into the street.

Hu Min sighed. “A’Luo wasn’t always like this. But he’s still a decent fellow. Spend some time with him and you’ll see.”

After saying that, he added, “By the way, I noticed that tree in your courtyard. One of its branches sticks over the neighbor’s wall. Trim it before nightfall. Otherwise, if imperial nectar lands on those leaves, who gets it becomes a dispute. Two years ago, two families who’d been friends for over a decade fell out that way. They fought over nectar on a tree branch until one was dead, two were crippled, and the survivor was hauled off for labor.”

Panlong City rarely used prisons. It had no room for freeloaders. Convicts were sent to mines, roads, or transport as hard labor. Women were dispatched to weaving, farming, or mending workshops. Nobody sat idle.

“And another thing, don’t go outside the city for a while. When imperial nectar falls on the wasteland, it stirs beasts and monsters into frenzies. The wilderness isn’t safe.” Hu Min scratched his head before adding, “Last time nectar fell, an inexperienced garrison from the State of Xianyou pitched camp on the plains. They were trampled flat by a herd of raging bison led by a bull monster. The casualties they suffered were horrific.”

He Lingchuan chuckled and said, “And what about the imperial nectar collected by the Ministry of Merits? Do they refine it into pills and powders, too?”

“From tonight, the whole city will be under lockdown. Inside and out, teams will gather nectar according to strict procedures. They say last time, down by the riverbank, they harvested a lump the size of a fist.”

Since the commoners were confined indoors, any nectar falling on streets, plazas, markets, or even across the vast Chipa Plateau would belong to the authorities.

And imperial nectar spoiled quickly. Preserving it was a race against time, testing the city’s skill in organization, coordination, and transport.

“With imperial nectar, they can refine all kinds of medicines, whether it be ones for regenerating flesh, replenishing blood, relieving exhaustion, or even those that drag those who are half-dead back to life. Each of the medicines that can be made with it has marvelous effects. One of the finest is the verdant jade pill. Take a bead no bigger than a mung bean before cultivation, and it not only doubles or even triples the efficiency, but increases it even beyond that. The only drawback is the cost. It takes a mountain of military merit to exchange for it.” Hu Min sighed. “I tried one once. The effect was so good I’ll never forget it.”

He Lingchuan’s eyes shone. “What about the formula for the verdant jade pill?”

“There isn’t one! I’m no apothecary.” Hu Min cursed with a laugh. “I’ve heard fewer than three people in the city know how to make it, even A’Luo doesn’t know how to make it.”

“Oh.” He Lingchuan was not too disappointed. That was life.

“Speaking of free things, I almost forgot something important.” Hu Min straightened, his tone serious. “What fundamental cultivation technique do you practice?”

“My family’s breathing technique. It’s called the Guiding Art.”

“You don’t have a comprehensive systematic cultivation manual?”

“No.” That was one of He Lingchuan’s greatest frustrations. “Just a bare-bones fundamental internal technique.”

The He Family had not passed much down. Father and both sons practiced this same internal technique. The former He Lingchuan had trained in it more diligently than anyone, yet never developed any special abilities. The ceiling was simply too low.

“Good. That’s perfect!” Hu Min slapped him on the back and laughed. “You’re clean, no baggage. Remember the Bureau of Bright Prospects? Right across from it is the Bureau of Invigoration. They’re in charge of all kinds of divine technique, spells, and manuals!”

Hearing this lit He Lingchuan up with joy from head to toe. “Really?”

That broken saber really was considerate. Just when he had been fretting over his lack of cultivation paths, it handed him a solution.

“The authorities promote five official fundamental internal techniques,” Hu Min explained. “Go to the Bureau of Invigoration, and they’ll test you, and then they’ll recommend you one. These fundamental internal techniques are open to everyone in Panlong City, free of charge, with teachers provided. As for all the other divine techniques and cultivation manuals, you’ll need merit to exchange for them. Oh, and another thing. The Bureau of Invigoration often invites experts and adepts to lecture and instruct, covering every school and specialty. Most of these are free to attend. You mustn’t miss them.”

He Lingchuan’s eyes gleamed. Public lectures by great teachers? And this was Panlong City, so there was no way they would invite charlatans. Whoever spoke was guaranteed to deliver substance.

He almost wanted to rush out right then and there to the Bureau of Inigoration.

But by now the sun was already sinking low. Curfew would fall tonight, and they were still far from the government offices. Hu Min also had herbs to buy. There was no time to linger.

“Want me to prepare another set of ingredients for you?” Hu Min offered.

“No need!” He Lingchuan had thirty taels of silver in his purse today. Generously, he hired a carriage to take him back home.

Back at his wood house, he sprawled out on the bed.

Thwump.

A cloud of dust rose as he landed on the bed.

The bed was hard, creaking with every shift. A faint smell of mildew lingered in the air. It was clear that no one had lived here for a long time. Despite his current situation, his heart brimmed with a strange, unshakable joy.

In this legendary city, he finally had a home.

It was a foothold of his own.

And his future held promise.

As he lay down and closed his eyes in feigned sleep, He Lingchuan suddenly recalled the three cryptic lines the old turtle monster had given him.

One of those lines was to “explore the real in the false,” right? Could that have been pointing to the Panlong Dreamscape?

The broken saber would never have pulled him into the dream for no reason. Perhaps here, within these visions, he could discover a way to break free of his fate, a path to survival.

He needed to treat these dreams with greater seriousness and greater care.

* * *

This time, no one disturbed him. He woke naturally.

Glancing about, he saw that the room was spacious. A sigh escaped him.

He was back in reality. The broken saber had not let him stay in the dream until nightfall. He also remembered that it was after consuming imperial nectar and entering meditation that he had slipped into the Panlong Dreamscape.

He Lingchuan reached under his pillow, drew out the broken saber, and stroked its battered blade. “Why did you drag me into the dream all of a sudden? Was it because of the imperial nectar?”

The Coordinating Army had just witnessed a once-in-decades rainfall of imperial nectar, and in the dream, the city had conjured the same event. Coincidence upon coincidence, so much so that it all began to look like design.

The saber, of course, remained silent.

But lowering his head, He Lingchuan caught sight of the divine bone amulet at his chest, flickering faintly red twice before dimming again.

Last time, when he awoke from the dream, the amulet had glowed as well.

He remembered, too, how the citizens there always glanced at his chest first, their faces turning friendlier afterward. Even the pickpocket had gone for the bone.

Could the divine bone be my pass in the dream Panlong City?

He Lingchuan stared blankly for a moment, then smacked his forehead. “Damn it, how could I forget the most important thing!”

He straightened his clothes, left the farmstead, and galloped straight for Shuanghe Town.

By then, dusk was already falling.

His meditation had consumed three full hours. The guards at the gate looked surprised. “Even the young master trains so diligently? Second Young Master only stayed at it for an hour or so.”

Another snickered and said, “Maybe the eldest young master just fell asleep.”

* * *

By the time the moon rose above the willow tops, He Lingchuan was back at the farmstead.

The household had already eaten and gone to bed. Only a few patrol soldiers paced the perimeter.

He Lingchuan had to give the countersign several times before being let through. There was no easy “face pass” here. The watch was strict.

Instead of returning to his room, he headed for the kitchen, lit the fire, and fetched a small clay jar. He scrubbed it clean, then filled it with rootless water drawn from the eaves vat, two full catties of honey, and all the imperial nectar he had left.

Next came the five medicinal herbs he had purchased in Shuanghe Town.

They had not been easy to come by. Common though they were, each had cost five to ten times the price in Heishui City.

The Battle of Woling Pass had ended months ago, and though trade caravans had revived Shuanghe Town somewhat, the locals still struggled. Grain and medicine were especially in short supply. He had combed every apothecary and still failed to gather all five ingredients.

The last two he obtained only by having a shopkeeper broker a deal with passing merchants—at a steep price, of course.

Still, the herbs were already processed. Those that needed to be powdered had been powdered; those needing peeling had been peeled. He dumped them all into the jar and stirred hard.

After that, he brought out a turtle pearl and a lump of toad venom, crushed both, and added them in as well.