The man in red parted his vermilion lips and began to play his jade flute. The sound emanating from it was full of sentimental entanglements, softly stirring the hearts of all who listened, as if inviting them to join him in a realm of amorous affections.
Song Qingshi's mother was an internationally renowned pianist. Under her influence, music became Song Qingshi's only passion aside from academics. During the last days of his life, while all his bodily functions were failing, his consciousness remained startlingly lucid.
His mother spared no expense in installing state-of-the-art sound systems in his hospital room, playing music continuously. She even arranged for top musicians from various fields to perform mini-concerts for him every day.
Music pulled him back from the brink of despair, soothing his soul. This unique period made him exceptionally sensitive to the emotions conveyed through music. He could perceive the gentleness in a passionate piano piece, or find hidden encouragement within the sorrow of a guzheng melody.
Now, he heard familiar undertones of struggle and despair within the flute's emotionally charged notes.
Song Qingshi finally lifted his head, his gaze locking onto the resplendent, red-glowing phoenix, unable to look away.
Jin Feirong noticed Song Qingshi's newfound interest and joyfully exclaimed, "Immortal Sage Song, are you interested in this slave? His name is Yue Wuhuan. Naturally charming, he's also a rare, top-tier Wood Elemental Spiritual Root. He's exceptionally tolerant to...exertions in intimate settings. Everyone who has tried can't help but praise him. Would you like a taste?"
Song Qingshi felt his ears redden at the blatant proposition, hastily averting his eyes and muttering, "No need."
"Medicine King Immortal Sage is known for his chastity and has no interest in such things. Don't force it upon him," Lingbao Immortal Sage interjected, pointing at Yue Wuhuan, "I remember this high-quality merchandise comes from Xie Que, right? No one in the immortal realm knows how to raise beauties like him. Each one has their unique flavor."
Jin Feirong waved it off, "Oh, it's not about the relationship; he's good with thirty bushels of mermaid pearls."
Lingbao Immortal Sage burst into laughter, "If friendships could be measured in money, you'd be the most sociable person in the world. Come, let's drink to our everlasting friendship and love."
Jin Feirong smiled and had the youth fill their cups before toasting with Lingbao Immortal Sage.
Already tipsy, Lingbao Immortal Sage leaned back, listening to the flute and mused, "I remember when this beauty first came, he was reluctant under the control of the Hehuan Seal. It added a unique flavor. Now he's become so uninhibited; clearly, you're skillful."
Jin Feirong shook his head, "It's a pity, no matter how much he's pushed, this beauty never cries. Born tearless, it detracts a bit from the overall experience."
Song Qingshi couldn't resist commenting, "Being born without tears might be an issue with the tear duct system."
Jin Feirong was dumbstruck, not knowing how to bridge his aspirations for friendship with Song Qingshi's medical focus. He awkwardly laughed and changed the subject, "Don't let his uninhibited appearance fool you. He used to be a royal prince in the mortal world. At eight, he was discovered by Xie Que to possess a high-quality spiritual root. Xie Que showed off his divine powers, gifting the Emperor an Elixir of Longevity in exchange for the prince."
"Xie Que's a cunning one; he usually tricks people into signing a voluntary slavery contract. After teaching them some basic techniques, he marks them with the Hehuan Seal at their peak age and beauty, then sells them to brothels for intimate service. Everyone knows he's exploiting loopholes, but they turn a blind eye, tacitly allowing such slave trading."
An Elixir of Longevity can only be taken once and extends one's life to a hundred years.
Cultivators, as long as they build their foundation, can live at least 300 years and have no need for such trinkets. They are usually bought for mortal servants and are priced very cheaply at two low-grade Spirit Stones. Such excessive profits encourage the continuous trading of slaves, but none raise them as well as Xie Que.
To his surprise, Song Qingshi realized that his original self had encountered Xie Que before.
That spring, the original self was immersed in researching new alchemical formulas when Xie Que arrived carrying an unconscious child for medical assistance. The child was a mortal, roughly 11 or 12 years old, possessing a rare Pure Yang constitution and a Wood Elemental Spiritual Root. Remarkably, he had cultivated to the third layer of Qi Condensation, a feat superior even to some waste heirs from immortal clans. Xie Que claimed that the boy was his disciple for over three years and had been bitten by a Ghost-Faced Snake during a training expedition in the mountains.
Normally indifferent to treating mortals, the original self was swayed by Xie Que's impassioned plea. He claimed that this was his most treasured disciple and was willing to pay handsomely for a cure. Annoyed yet moved by Xie Que's tearful begging, and considering that the poison was relatively easy to cure, the original self finally relented, administering two detoxification pills and ordering him to cease crying.
Xie Que stood vigil at his disciple's bedside for three days and nights. When the boy finally woke up, he was largely out of danger, though the ghostly marks on his face would require some time to fade. Still anxious about residual toxins, Xie Que lingered in the Valley of Medicine King for half a month until the boy's face fully recovered.
During that period, the original self often sat at a vantage point overlooking peach blossoms in full bloom whenever he was stuck in his alchemical studies. Each time, he saw a small figure practicing swordsmanship beneath the peach trees—practicing from morning to noon to night, becoming an integral part of the scenic backdrop.
For mortals to cultivate into immortals is as arduous as a fish leaping through the dragon gate; few succeed.
Xie Que was always at the boy's side, a face full of concern. They even had several arguments about this. The original self, intrigued, extended his divine sense and heard the child telling Xie Que, "Master, even though I, as a mortal, may not have the spiritual roots of immortals, my father once told me that hard work can compensate for my lack of innate talent. So I need to redouble my efforts and not waste time."
"You have a point," Xie Que conceded, trying to persuade him, "But why are you so obsessed with swordsmanship? In my Yan Mountain Sect, we cultivate through music. Wouldn't learning to play the flute or zither be better for you?"
"Master, your method of cultivation through music is great," the boy scratched his head sheepishly, "but I love the sword. I want to be someone like Sword Sage Moyuan. Don't worry; I've mastered the songs you taught me and even do better than my senior brothers and sisters. I haven't neglected my cultivation."
Left with no choice, Xie Que said, "I'll find you a pair of Ice Silk Gloves; you must wear them while practicing. And soak your hands in medicinal water every night to keep them soft. No calluses allowed; they could hinder your future cultivation."
The boy cheered, "Master, you're the best!"
"Just don't get hurt," Xie Que tapped his forehead gently, "You naughty imp, you've scared your master to death. From now on, stay within the sect for cultivation and stop going to the back mountains. And don't practice day and night; you'll ruin your eyes."
The boy agreed to each point.
Xie Que bent down to gently ruffle his hair, sighing, "You have no idea how much you mean to your master..."
"I do know," the boy looked up earnestly, "I know that the immortal realm looks down upon mortals who cultivate, and by extension, masters who take mortals as disciples. I don't want to embarrass you, so I must reach the Golden Core stage and prove your judgment correct!"
Xie Que gazed at him silently, his eyes inscrutable.
The boy tugged at Xie Que's sleeve, turning away shyly, "Wuhuan likes Master the most!"
Xie Que touched the boy's face adorned with colorful marks, inspecting them closely. His gaze eventually settled on a small, red teardrop-shaped mole beneath the boy's left eye—it was stunningly beautiful. He remained silent for a long time before revealing a warm smile, "Your master likes you the most, too."
...