Chapter 38: Blood Nerves

“Brother Guo, is this another immortal like Mother?”
The two had only a brief moment of confusion before arriving outside the mountain, but the little girl, unafraid, took a bite of the yellow root and asked with her wide, sparkling eyes.
The honest young man was named Guo Xiaoshan. His mother died in childbirth, and his father disappeared into the mountains to hunt when he was seven, never to return.
He survived thanks to the help of the villagers, scraping by for several years. As he grew older and ate more, it became harder; the villagers were all poor themselves and could not afford to feed an extra mouth.
Guo Xiaoshan was sensible and began to learn his family’s craft, venturing into the mountains to hunt. But at ten years old, he could hardly provide for himself—if luck was on his side, he might catch a rabbit or a wild fowl for a rare feast.
Hunger was his constant companion.
Until one day, deep in the mountains, he encountered an old bear and was saved by the little girl’s mother, who taught him a few physical cultivation techniques that most immortals neglected. Thanks to these, his life began to improve.
He was grateful—whenever he caught prey, he would bring some to her. The female cultivator was not highly skilled, barely at the Qi Refining stage and pregnant, making movement difficult; she accepted his gifts without protest.
She never allowed the boy into her cave nor spoke to him.
Guo Xiaoshan was not bothered; he remembered only her kindness.
Then, some days ago, the female cultivator’s enemy arrived. After teaching him those techniques, she knelt and asked him to take her daughter to the Chen family in Longxiang County and deliver her to her father.
He agreed without hesitation, only asking, “Where is Longxiang County?”
He shouldered the little girl and plunged into the mountains.
Guo Xiaoshan, being older, knew—even without seeing other immortals—that the girl’s mother did not possess such powers.
If his benefactor had such abilities, she would not have needed to stay and hold off her enemy; she could have simply flown away with Sister Xi Chen.
He sighed inwardly, then smiled and nodded:
“Yes! Just like Aunt Zhao, she’s an immortal—a good immortal.”
A strange light flashed in the little girl’s eyes.
“If immortals are so powerful, then Mother will be fine, right?”
“Yes, she’ll be fine.”
Though his heart ached, the boy forced a smile and shook the bamboo basket on his back.

“Come, let’s find your father first.”
“Yes! Mother is an immortal, so Father must be an immortal too. Then Father can take me to find Mother.” The little girl was full of hope, chattering softly about what she would do when she saw her father and mother.
The boy echoed her words, striding in the direction Aunt Zhao had pointed.
After more than two months of asking directions, Guo Xiaoshan finally arrived at the Chen family with the girl, Zhao Xi Chen, and found her father—a handsome cultivator at the Foundation Establishment stage.
The journey was fraught with twists and melodrama. The cultivator had married into another family, and even when meeting his daughter, he was cautious and reserved.
Guo Xiaoshan did not pry into the family’s secrets, but seeing Uncle Chen’s evident affection for Sister Xi Chen, he felt a great weight lift from his heart.
Though he had always appeared resolute and cheerful, he was just a strong-willed boy. For the sake of a debt, a promise, he had crossed mountains and rivers, journeying thousands of miles.
Such hardship far exceeded his limits.
Now, having fulfilled his promise to his benefactor, exhaustion flooded him. He only wanted a place to sleep.
“If only you had a spiritual root, I’d surely guide you onto the path of cultivation, to repay this kindness.”
“In any case, my Chen family still has some influence in Longxiang County. You could enjoy a life of wealth and comfort…”
Before he could finish, Guo Xiaoshan interrupted: “Uncle Chen, you underestimate me. I brought Sister Xi Chen across thousands of miles, never thinking of reward. If I had, I’d never have made it here.”
With that, ignoring the man’s surprised expression, he waved to the little girl to say farewell: “Sister Xi Chen, eat well and grow quickly. Only then can you find your mother. Brother Guo is leaving.”
The little girl, not quite understanding partings, felt her sensitive heart fill with sorrow and began to cry, calling “Brother Guo.”
Guo Xiaoshan did not look back, steeling himself and striding away.
Until his figure disappeared, the girl’s father, reflecting on his own failings, sighed, “Are there truly such people in the world?”
...
Guo Xiaoshan had never left his home village before; crossing the mountains to Longxiang County was fueled by sheer determination. Now, to return, he could only retrace his steps.
But he had been sent over the second half of the mountains by Chen Yang’s helpfulness and hadn’t walked that route himself. Now, as he made his way back, he gradually lost his way.
Wandering through the mountains for days, his already ragged clothes turned to mere strips, barely covering him.
Still, he was experienced in the wild. Unable to find his way, he first walked toward the sunrise, then, upon finding a stream, followed the water.

After several more days, he arrived at a lake surrounded by mountains.
Unable to leave the wilderness, Guo Xiaoshan was not discouraged. He possessed an easygoing spirit, stripped his ruined clothes to wash in the water, and, using his hunting knife, fashioned a fishing spear from branches, hoping to change his diet.
As he was spearing fish, a celestial palace suddenly appeared beneath the lake.
The Palace of the Cave Scroll.
This was the very place where Liuyun Daoist and his companions had invited Chen Yang to break the formation.
All of Chen Yang’s forebodings had come true—a group of Nascent Soul cultivators with little true skill, each calling themselves saints, bode ill.
Within the immortal mansion, a young man in green robes and white hair was chained by several black iron links, his body pierced by burning demonic needles.
His face and body were covered in talismans.
Scarlet demonic flames consumed him, producing silent screams of agony.
Suddenly, all the needles flew out from his body, taking his skin with them, leaving only a mangled, bloody form still burning.
Had Chen Yang been present, he would have recognized him at once. Though his appearance had changed, his aura was unmistakable.
He was cultivating the Blood God Sutra, the most secret art of the Demon Sect.
The human skin swelled, as if filled by a blood shadow, making it appear eerily lifelike.
“What a familiar aura—is it you?”
The skin stepped out of the immortal palace, came to the lakeshore, and saw Guo Xiaoshan spearing fish.
With a wave of his hand, he seized a trace of magical power left on Guo Xiaoshan by Chen Yang’s spell.
Sniffing this faint remnant of pure demonic intent, his expression shifted between a sneer and self-mockery:
“A true disciple—your mastery of the demonic path is astonishing, far surpassing even me. If I hadn’t cultivated the Blood God Sutra, I wouldn’t dare face you.”