Mage's Cultivation Journey 3

Yu Xing was a poor village boy, barely sixteen, living alone in a nameless little village near Kunze Mountains, making a living by gathering medicinal plants that the doctors and apothecaries in the city turned into medicine. 

He hadn’t always lived that way. Two years ago, he had managed to gather enough silver by selling his six acres of farming land to join a martial arts class in the city, hoping that it would be enough to change his destiny. Unfortunately, it hadn’t been. 

The city wasn’t a peaceful place. There were disputes between schools, gang fights, family rivalries, bandits walking out in the open, corrupt officials… He tried to stay away, but when one of his friends was targeted, he tried to save him. 

All that he received was injuries that ruined any chance of him becoming a martial artist, forcing him to return to his village with broken dreams and an empty wallet. 

“Still, it’s not as bad as it could be,” he muttered to himself even as he jumped over a rock to check the concealed spot behind it. Such an area might contain nightshade rose, a valuable plant that could be processed into an antidote. 

It truly wasn’t as bad as it could have been. At least, the injuries that prevented him from ever cultivating internal energy didn’t destroy his body, allowing him to survive as a gatherer. 

Kunze Mountain was a dangerous place. 

“Perfect,” he muttered when he checked the shaded area, and found two mature plants of nightshade roses, but their leaves had a silver edge. It meant they were at least ten years old, multiplying their value several times. They would make him more than he made in the last month, maybe even the last three months — 

The mountain shook, distracting him from his thoughts. “An earthquake,” he gasped, barely able to move before the rock he moved around had been dislodged. 

“N-no,” he gasped as he watched the rock roll down the mountain, turning into a small landslide, leaving the smashed remains of two plants, turned worthless. “Please, immortals above. Please…” But, no matter how much he prayed, the heavens didn’t help him — 

His attention was grabbed by a thick cloud of dust rising from a mile away. He would have written it off as merely another landslide, but the light that accompanied indicated something different. There was a bright light coming from it. 

He gulped, caught in indecision, wondering if he was having one of those rumored fortuitous encounters. There had been many such tales told by his fellow students back in the city, each talking about their distant relatives turning their lives around by a chance mystical encounter, some even leaving their mortal lives and becoming exalted immortals. 

Yu Xing had always treated those as idle tales, made up to entertain people. But, that multicolored mysterious light was nothing like he had seen before. Not even the fireworks in the city had been that bright, that alluring. He could turn his back, return to the village, and forget ever seeing it…

Or he could take a chance. 

Yu Xing hesitated for a moment, but the memories of his cottage, dark and empty, perched at the edge of the village like he was diseased, were enough to change his mind. 

He walked forward with practiced ease on the treacherous ground of the mountain, his fingers tight around his blade.  The air still shimmered faintly with residual light, and the scent of scorched grass could be smelt even from a distance. 

He ignored them, and focused on his steps. The slope was difficult to climb even in the best of conditions. The aftermath of a landslide was far from the best. As he got closer to the epicenter, he noticed more dislodged rocks and other disturbances, affected by the disturbance. Whatever had happened, it was significant. 

Step by step, he got closer, the dust slowly fading away. But, when he arrived at the impact site, he froze. At the center of the newly created pit, there was a man.

Yu Xing froze, his breath caught in his throat as he scanned the environment, looking for any sign that the man had just stumbled into some kind of heavenly natural land. But, there was none. Just a man, with half-scorched clothes made of a fabric he couldn’t recognize. 

Most importantly. He was alive. Yu Xing could see his chest moving up and down, however weakly. 

“A-an expert,” Yu Xing decided. Either he was responsible for the situation, or he had been the victim of it, managing to survive despite what seemed to be a devastating attack. He wondered if he was looking at an exalted Martial Artist of the Bone Forging realm, strong enough to destroy the land with a kick … or more. 

He looked around again, half-expecting a group of martial artists to leap out from behind the trees, blades drawn, blaming him for working for their enemy. But there was nothing but scorched trees and the quiet hum of the forest trying to decide if it should return to normal.

Yu Xing dropped to one knee and touched the stranger’s neck. Still warm. Still breathing. 

Up close, the man didn’t look like a rugged martial artist. He looked weak, and fragile. Haggard. He didn’t look like a martial artist. Not even a hint of essence, let alone the boundless energy of an expert martial artist. 

Maybe he was just a victim, some kind of traveler who got caught in the battle between two martial artists, surviving by chance, whatever fortune he might have lost. Maybe, he would give Yu Xing nothing but another mouth to feed while he recovered.

It was just like the encounter with the gang and his fellow disciple, where he tried to help, only to lose everything. Maybe it would be just another attempt where fate punishes him. 

“Still, can I really leave him to die in the wilderness,” he decided. It didn’t matter if it was a fortuitous encounter or just a man down on his luck. He couldn’t leave him to die. 

The trek back was slow and grueling. The mountain was difficult to traverse alone. Yu Xing had to bind the stranger’s arms and legs with ropes just to keep him balanced across his back. The man was lighter than expected, but he was still a grown man, one that was taller than him. The path he took made it even more difficult. 

He avoided the main paths, taking the goat trails and weaving between the trees. No one could see this, not even his fellow villagers. Not until he figured out who the man was, and whether he was truly an opportunity or just more trouble.

By the time he reached the outskirts of the village and stood in front of his crooked door, the sun had already set.

He pushed open the door to his cottage with a grunt and carefully laid the stranger down on the straw mat he used as a bed. The only place he could rest. Then, he wet the cleanest fabric he used as a bandage whenever he was wounded,  and gently cleaned the soot from his face. 

He also took the opportunity to examine him. The man had no visible injuries, other than the scrapes he had received on the way back. Yet, his breathing was shallow, like he was about to give his last breath. Yu Xing searched for a hint of essence, but came empty. 

There was not even a hint. Maybe he was just an ordinary man — 

Or, he realized with a sudden fear. Maybe he didn’t have a hint of essence, because he was an immortal. A cultivator, master of Qi, the breath of the world itself. 

He gulped in fear, many tales about cultivators flashing in his mind, including the ones that cultivators killed men and destroyed families, all for a simple disrespect. What if he was truly a cultivator? Would he find his poverty insulting enough to kill him? 

“I don’t know who you are,” Yu Xing whispered as he continued to tend to the unconscious man. “But please… just don’t make me regret helping you.”

He could only hope.