Chapter Two: Familiar Faces, Old Places, Another Farewell

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The clouds were light, the breeze gentle. Occasionally, a few sparrows would flutter past the window, landing on the branches, chirping as they preened their feathers.

This was all Su He saw upon waking—a familiar scene, familiar things.

Though he had endured the collapse of the passage, he had finally returned to his homeland—Yu Hai Tian.

A world teeming with the strong, where immortals were as common as dogs.

The first heaven among the lower nine heavens: Yu Hai Tian.

As this thought lingered, the double doors creaked open. Su He looked back, following the sound.

He gave a self-deprecating smile. “I’ve troubled you again.”

The newcomer had an elegant, upright bearing, warm and composed, carrying a bowl of freshly brewed medicine. Stepping over the threshold, he smiled as he approached Su He’s bedside.

Setting the bowl on the table, he lowered his gaze. “Once is chance, twice is routine—what trouble could there be? Besides, you chose a fine place to faint—right at my doorstep. How could I possibly ignore you?”

Su He was momentarily stunned, then smiled helplessly. He hadn’t expected to fall directly into Wei Ye Valley—it was no wonder his friend made light of it.

He propped himself up against the headboard, breathing unsteadily. “When you found me, did you see a black crane? Or… anyone else?”

Brushing aside the breeze that teased his robe, Fu Qingfeng sat at the bedside, placing two fingers on Su He’s wrist. “No. Was it a friend of yours? Would you like me to help you search?”

After checking his pulse, he withdrew his hand, his gaze lingering on Su He’s absent expression.

Su He returned to his senses and shook his head. “No need. He is not an ordinary creature. I believe we’ll meet again in time.”

Yet, despite his words, his heart could not help but sink.

A man barely escapes death; how could a mere spirit bird like Xiao Hei, having just survived one calamity only to encounter another, hope to emerge unscathed?

As for Qi Wu Mian…

“In any case, drink your medicine first. If it cools, I won’t have any candied fruit for you.” With that, Fu Qingfeng picked up the bowl, tested the temperature—it was warm and just right—and handed it to Su He.

“Thank you,” Su He replied. Memories from years past surfaced, unbearable to recall.

He brought the bowl to his lips, then suddenly froze, memories flooding back as if they were only yesterday.

Unconsciously, he became lost in them.

Fu Qingfeng glanced at him but said nothing. He pushed himself up from his knee, quietly leaving the room.

He closed the door, granting Su He a moment of peace.

Then, he walked away.

Lost in his memories, Su He seemed to return to that day, cornered by someone with no escape.

His grip on the bowl tightened.

“Baili Xiao Jing, I have returned…”

With those words, he drained the medicine in one gulp. Once, he had hated bitter flavors.

Now, tasting them again, he felt that only bitterness could truly awaken one from oblivion—unforgettable, inescapable.

After three days in bed, Su He was finally able to stand and walk, albeit with difficulty. Stepping out of the room, he felt alive for the first time.

He walked over to where someone was basking in the sun on a rocking chair, found a stone stool, and sat down.

“It’s bright and early—shouldn’t you tend to your herbs?”

Fu Qingfeng lazily opened his eyes, casting a sidelong glance at Su He. “All my hard-earned supplies ended up in your belly. What herbs are left for me to tend?”

Su He was speechless for a moment before saying, “Do you need an apprentice?”

“No. My little Wei Ye Valley can hardly afford to keep a great Buddha like you. If I made you my apprentice, my family would be ruined.”

“Are you afraid, my friend?”

If so, then on that day when everyone sought my life, who gathered my soul and helped me regain my body?

“Hm? Did that happen? I have no recollection,” Fu Qingfeng teased, feigning ignorance.

Su He burst into laughter. For the first time in ages, the weight on his heart felt lighter.

He understood that Qingfeng did not wish him to dwell on the past and was gently guiding him forward. He felt ashamed.

He truly wasn’t seasoned enough—his feelings showed too easily. If he faced the Baili family now, would he not walk right into their trap?

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Suddenly, he stood and bowed deeply to Fu Qingfeng. “Su He is unworthy, yet grateful for your care. Please accept my thanks.”

Fu Qingfeng immediately flashed forward, lifting him to prevent the bow. “Back then, I urged you to leave because I didn’t want you to die in vain. Now that you’ve returned, I have no reason to persuade you to let go. But you must understand—coming back means facing mortal danger. Life and death hinge on a moment; only caution can preserve you.”

“Thank you.”

“Sit down first. I tried to repair your sword, but…”

“What of it?” At those words, Su He, who had just sat, shot upright.

Fu Qingfeng frowned but helped him sit back down. “The spirit within is incomplete. Reforging the body is hopeless.”

“Is there no way to save it?”

“There isn’t.” Fu Qingfeng’s eyes fell, dimming with sorrow.

“How can that be? That day, when the Si You aura devoured my flesh, even my soul was nearly destroyed—yet you brought the crane back to life. Why can’t you save him?” Hearing that Bai Li Wushuang’s spirit was incomplete and his body lost, Su He’s mind raced, his heart pounding as if it would leap from his chest, with no place to rest.

Must he truly owe this debt forever?

Fu Qingfeng folded his arms, expression grave. “Saving you was a matter of coincidence and fate. But he is different—he lacks that final thread of life.”

Why had he never mentioned this before—this thread of life? What fate, what coincidence, could have pulled him back from the gate of death?

Suddenly, Su He seized Fu Qingfeng’s wrist. “Tell me what it is. I’ll find it, no matter what.”

“Why torment yourself? Even if you find it, what then? His soul will not last a month. Even if you succeed, there may not be time.” Fu Qingfeng winced in pain, pried Su He’s fingers away, then stood straight, hands hidden in his sleeves.

Yet his face showed only calm, betraying nothing.

Su He’s heart went cold, as if doused in icy water.

After a pause to steady himself, he looked at his friend. “You have a way, don’t you?”

“I don’t,” Fu Qingfeng replied, turning away immediately, his refusal crisp and clear.

But the more he denied it, the more certain Su He was that he held the answer.

He rose and moved closer. “Tell me. If you don’t, I’ll search on my own. If I die, I ask you to bury me.”

Fu Qingfeng spun around, eyes blazing. “Did I owe you a debt in my last life, Bai Li Su He? Or did I disturb your ancestors’ graves? Why do you assume I’ll always be soft-hearted?”

“Or must I kneel before you to earn your help?” Su He lifted his robe, making as if to kneel.

Fu Qingfeng quickly caught him by the arms, pushing him aside. “Go, go—kneel somewhere else if you must. I can’t stand the sight.”

With that, he strode toward the medicine hut.

Su He paused in surprise, then hurried after him. But as he entered, the door nearly caught his nose—he almost got his face slammed by the panel.

He stood there awkwardly, then knocked. “Brother Feng, as a person, one must never forget a grudge, but neither should one forget a favor. If I were the ungrateful type, would you, the breeze of Wei Ye Valley, still call me friend?”

At his words, the old wooden door swung open.

Fu Qingfeng picked up the Minshu Sword from the table and tossed it to Su He. “Let me be frank—there is a way to save his soul. But whether you succeed depends on your fate. If it is meant to be, it will be. If not, it cannot be forced. Do you understand?”

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Delighted, Su He replied respectfully, “I understand.”

“Good. Follow me to the medicine pool. The spiritual energy there will aid your recovery. Also, his soul must be suppressed by the unique aura of the pool to shield it from harm.”

“Thank you.” Su He stepped aside, letting Fu Qingfeng lead the way before following at a measured pace.

As they walked, rare flowers and exotic grasses carpeted the ground, ancient trees towered overhead, beneath their shade purple ganoderma shone, and golden polygonatum flourished. Occasionally, a ginseng root shaped like a tiny person would scamper across the hills.

Or a ground fungus would stretch its tendrils, weaving a cradle in the branches to swing with the wind.

From a distance, it looked like someone was sitting, swaying gently.

Su He withdrew his gaze. “Your valley is truly fascinating.”

“All are nurtured by heaven and earth, a gift of spiritual energy. I am but a humble caretaker here. Look—there lies the medicine pool. Take him with you and soak for thirty-six hours; after that, all will be well.” Fu Qingfeng stopped, pointing at the emerald waves ahead.

There, the pool shimmered with radiant ripples, clear brilliance illuminating the world.

Dense spiritual energy rose in vapor, winding to the summit before transforming into fine rain that fell upon the lake.

It was as if pearls, large and small, danced upon a jade plate—a melody both lively and intricate.

Like a beauty half-hidden behind a lute, shy and mysterious.

“You’re too modest! Such sacred places are meant for the worthy. After this, I owe you a debt I cannot repay.”

Fu Qingfeng raised his brow and stepped aside. “Remember, though this pool is wondrous, greed is its greatest enemy.”

“I understand.” Su He gripped the Minshu Sword, bowed, and took his leave.

No more words passed between them.

Fu Qingfeng vanished into the void, disappearing without a trace. Su He walked on, reaching the medicine pool.

At the water's edge, he immediately sensed its profound mysteries.

Though the spiritual energy fell like rain, it did not wet his clothes but flowed directly into his body, merging with every meridian, devouring the lingering poisons within.

Upon entry, a wave of indescribable comfort swept over him. Even the Minshu Sword began to hum, its dull scabbard regaining a hint of luster.

Relief softened his brow as he caressed the sword. “Hold on, nourish your soul and body. I will save you.”

This time, the Minshu Sword offered no reply, only radiating with increasingly vibrant light, a sign that all was moving toward hope.

Su He breathed a sigh of relief, then closed his eyes, immersing himself in cultivation, letting the pool’s energy cleanse his every wound.

The moon waxed and waned, days and nights passed like shuttle threads.

In what felt like an instant, Fu Qingfeng returned precisely on time to fetch him.

Though the pool was beneficial, an excess would be fatal poison.

Were it otherwise, Fu Qingfeng would not have minded Su He staying longer—for in this world, strength is everything.

Without power, one remains an ant.

As Fu Qingfeng appeared, Su He awakened from meditation, rising from the water. With a light touch, he moved like drifting clouds, arriving before his friend.

With a flick of his hand, the Minshu Sword leaped from the water into his palm.

Gone was the pallor of illness—he now appeared refined and peerless.

He bowed. “Thank you for watching over me.”

Fu Qingfeng waved it off. “Now that you’re healed, it’s time to part. I heard that the Pale Moon Sparse Star Pavilion still holds an Emperor Bird’s soulstone, which can mend a broken soul. Seek it out. Whether you succeed is up to fate. Remember, return within three months—delay even a moment, and I will be powerless to help.”

“I understand. Farewell.”

With a bow, Su He turned and vanished from Wei Ye Valley.