The Immortal Path Is Crowded

Jin had spent an entire month in enforced stillness, the persistent smell of medicinal herbs and the constant hum of healing arrays working day and night. A month in which infernal pain had first turned into numbness, then into a deep discomfort… and finally into something that no longer dominated his mind.

“Alright… you can move now,” said a soft voice.

The assistant disciple carefully removed the last acupuncture needle from Jin’s arm. Her movements were expert, precise, but her eyes kept drifting—again and again—toward him.

Jin let out a slow breath and, for the first time in weeks, stretched.

The muscles in his back and shoulders tensed and relaxed with a faint crack, as if his body were fully waking up. He raised both arms above his head, rolled his neck, and let out a long, deep sigh.

“Ahhh…” he murmured. “That really felt necessary.”

The disciple froze completely.

Her cheeks flushed immediately, a visible blush rising all the way to her ears. She tried to look away… failed. She lowered her gaze again… and failed once more.

Jin’s torso was bare.

Despite being only fourteen years old, he was tall for his age, and his body clearly showed the marks of prior physical cultivation: defined muscles without exaggeration, a firm and balanced structure, nothing crude. It wasn’t strength that drew attention, but harmony.

But the hardest thing to ignore… was his hair.

Long, falling freely down his back, with golden strands intertwined with deep black, as if sunlight had been trapped in the night. And when Jin opened his eyes after finishing his stretch…

His eyes were golden, clear, deep, disturbingly calm, and the disciple swallowed before daring to speak. “Y-You’re… you’re completely recovered now,” she finally said, hurried, almost tripping over her own words. “The arm shows no residual damage.”

Jin rotated his right shoulder, clenched his fist, opened it and closed it again, confirming with a slight smile that there was no pain or numbness: perfect. “Thank you,” he replied with a sincere smile—this made it worse.

The disciple almost jumped back, nodding with exaggerated energy. “I-It’s nothing! I-It’s my job!” she exclaimed before adding, her voice stumbling, “I… I’ll take my leave.”

She turned around hurriedly and almost ran out of the medical hall, leaving a slight tremble in the curtains behind her.

Jin blinked once, wondering if he had done something strange; he looked at his own body, still with his arms raised, and then lowered them slowly. “Hm,” he murmured, scratching his cheek, thoughtful. “I suppose… a whole month really passed.”

Jin was still finishing checking his arm when a different presence brushed against his perception.

“So you finally finished healing,” said a voice behind him, making him turn his head.

Yan Mei had just entered the medical hall, pushing aside the curtain with a sharp motion… and she stopped, if only for an instant.

Until now, the few times she had seen Jin had been circumstantial: during the exam, when her attention was on measuring talents; and afterward, on the platform, when he was covered in dust, blood, and wounds, closer to a problem than a person.

Now it was different, clean, standing, with his body completely recovered.

The soft light of the hall highlighted his pale skin, the strange contrast of his golden and black hair falling freely down his back, and those golden eyes that did not seem ordinary.

Yan Mei frowned slightly, not knowing how to describe it, but sensing that there was something… strange; she clicked her tongue internally. What am I doing?

She forced herself out of that brief trance, stepped forward a couple of steps and crossed her arms, adopting her usual posture.

“Hmph,” she said, in a clearly annoyed tone. “An entire month occupying the medical hall’s resources. It was about time you got up.”

Jin blinked, surprised by the abrupt change.

“Wow… good morning to you too,” he replied calmly, lowering the arm he had been flexing.

Yan Mei looked him up and down once more, this time with narrowed eyes, evaluating him as if he were a problem just solved… or one about to begin.

“Don’t get excited,” she added. “Just because you’re healed doesn’t mean you’ve stopped being troublesome.”

She paused briefly, then looked away slightly, as if she didn’t want to admit the following.

“But… at least you’re not falling apart anymore,” she commented, and Jin smiled, tilting his head slightly. “What a relief. I was worried about disappointing you.” Yan Mei shot him a sharp look. “Not in your dreams.”

But for some reason, the frown no longer seemed so convincing.

Jin stretched his shoulders one last time and, as if something came to mind suddenly, looked around the medical hall.

“Hey…” he said casually, “what about the old woman Han Yiling? I haven’t seen her this whole month.” Yan Mei raised an eyebrow, glanced at him sideways and let out a short, clearly mocking laugh.

“Did you really think Senior Sister Han Yiling was going to spend the entire month coming to see you?” she shook her head. “Someone of her level has much more important things to do than watch whether an outer disciple can move his arm.”

She paused briefly, with a slight smile that wasn’t entirely kind.

“You should feel lucky that she even bothered to heal you personally in the first place.”

Jin coughed lightly. “I was just asking…” Yan Mei observed him for a few more seconds, as if she were going to say something, but in the end she clicked her tongue and turned around.

“Anyway,” she said, walking toward the exit and pulling aside the curtain, “since you’re healed and can move on your own…” she stopped for a moment and slightly turned her head. “Follow me.”

Without explaining anything else, she left the medical hall, leaving Jin looking at her back for a second before sighing and starting to move after her.

As he crossed the exit of the medical hall, he couldn’t help but slow down a bit. For an entire month his world had been reduced to curtains, the smell of herbs and the silent ceiling of the room; now, for the first time, he could truly see where he had been.

Han Yiling’s personal medical hall was larger than he had imagined. Pale jade columns supported the ceiling, medical inscriptions ran along the walls like veins carved into stone, and several discreet arrays glowed softly on the floor, exhaling a warm and stable Qi.

Some assistant disciples moved with quick and silent steps, carrying trays of pills or glass bottles. Seeing Jin walking on his own, several looked at him with surprise… and one or two with a curiosity difficult to hide.

Yan Mei did not slow her pace at any moment. They crossed a couple of side halls, corridors of polished stone, and an arch covered in restriction symbols before finally stepping outside.

The air changed immediately.

A path opened before them, leading into a dense forest of Jade Peak. Sunlight filtered through the high leaves, breaking into green shadows that slid across the ground. The Qi here was purer and calmer, as if the forest itself were breathing slowly.

Yan Mei took the path without hesitation, and Jin followed her.

They climbed along an uneven stone trail that wound uphill. With each step, Jin felt the surroundings becoming… too familiar.

At the end of the path, the entrance of a cave appeared, and Jin recognized it instantly; it was the same place the old man had taken him. Yan Mei stopped in front of the entrance and, without looking at him, commented, “We’re here.”

Jin observed the cave in silence, a strange sensation running down his back. Huh… so we’re back at the beginning.

Yan Mei did not stop to explain anything.

She approached the cave entrance and, with a natural movement, took out a talisman the size of two fingers from her sleeve.

The paper was a dull yellow, with fine inscriptions drawn in crimson ink. She held it between two fingers and pressed it gently against the rock wall beside the entrance.

A low hum ran through the cave, almost imperceptible, and for an instant Jin felt as if something invisible folded in on itself. The barrier covering the entrance dissipated without a sound, like a curtain carefully drawn aside.

Yan Mei stepped inside and, when she turned toward Jin, she did not say a word, but her gaze said everything: enter. Jin let out a quiet sigh. “Sure…” he murmured. “What could go wrong?” And he stepped in.

This time, unlike before, he was able to observe the place calmly. His eyes moved through the interior with attention… and then stopped, puzzled. He had expected something different.

Perhaps a refined cave, with jade furniture, silk cushions, incense burners and a delicate atmosphere, fitting for someone important within Jade Peak.

But no; the interior was… raw.

The cave was spacious, with a high ceiling and bare gray stone walls. There were no unnecessary decorations or decorative symbols. Only the basics: a smooth stone platform in the center for meditation, a simple table set against one side, and a couple of spiritual crystal lamps embedded in the wall.

What caught his attention the most were the walls: large cracks ran through the rock at different angles, and they did not look like natural fractures.

Deep cuts, long, some so clean they looked like they had been drawn with a perfect line, others more irregular, as if something had torn through the stone with restrained violence. Several of those marks overlapped, as if they had been made at different times, with different intentions.

Jin swallowed and turned his gaze toward one side of the cave. There was a shelf there: nothing elegant, just a wooden rack reinforced with seemingly ordinary metal, on which several weapons rested.

Swords, sabers, short spears… all made of seemingly normal material, without exaggerated spiritual glow or striking inscriptions. Weapons worn from use. Some had nicks, others impact marks, as if they had been used over and over again without rest.

Jin remained looking at them in silence; behind him, Yan Mei closed the barrier with a quick gesture and took a few steps into the cave. “What do you think?” she asked in a neutral tone. Jin took a second to respond. “…honest,” he said at last. Yan Mei glanced at him sideways.

For the first time since they had entered, a slight curve appeared at the corner of her lips; she walked toward the weapon rack and lightly tapped the wood with her knuckles. “Choose one,” she said without looking at him, “whichever you want, but make it wood.” Jin blinked.

There were swords of different sizes, simple spears, even what looked like a slightly crooked long staff. All made of common wood… too common for a place like that.

“…For what?” he asked, still without moving. Yan Mei turned her head just enough to look at him sideways, as if the question were unnecessary. “For what else?” she replied. “Training.”

She took a wooden sword and held it naturally, as if it were an extension of her arm.

“You already lost an entire month of cultivation,” she continued. “From now on I will guide you a bit… at my master’s request.”

He opened his eyes slightly; before he could say anything, she continued speaking, with a firm tone that left no room for objections.

“And I will also teach you how to fight,” she added. “So you don’t destroy your body so recklessly again.”

The words hit him harder than he expected, leaving him blank for a moment. Guide me…? Train me personally…?

A thought began to take shape in his mind. Incomplete, but unsettling… something related to the tournament…

“Then that means I…” he began to say, but Yan Mei interrupted him immediately. “Move.” The air seemed to tense.

She looked at him directly now, her eyes shining with a mix of severity and something else… it seemed like expectation.

“Choose a weapon,” she repeated. “Explanations can wait; time cannot.” Jin remained standing in front of the rack of wooden weapons, observing them in silence.

He was still somewhat confused by everything that had happened—the outer elder, the month in the medical hall, Yan Mei guiding him “at her master’s request,” that sudden training—but strangely it no longer weighed on him as much. Thinking too much is useless, he told himself.

His eyes moved across the weapons one by one. Straight swords, wooden sabers, simple staffs… all correct, all functional. And then, almost without realizing it, a slight smile formed on his face.

He extended his arm and closed his fingers around the shaft of a spear. “The spear…” he whispered to himself.

Although in this world he was barely at the first level of Qi Condensation, in his past life he had been a great enthusiast of martial arts. He had tried many weapons, but he always returned to the same one.

The king of all weapons, he thought with a certain internal pride.

As he took it, he felt the balance run through his body. It had weight for simple wood, but even so, with a light twist of his wrist, Jin made the spear trace a clean arc in the air, natural and fluid, as if the movement had been waiting for him.

He turned toward Yan Mei and, with unexpected calm, held the spear with one hand, resting it on the ground and making it spin once more with a simple but steady motion.

“This one is fine,” he said, naturally and without a trace of arrogance. Yan Mei observed him in silence; her eyes narrowed slightly. That way of moving, that instinctive gesture… was not that of someone holding a weapon for the first time. She raised an eyebrow slightly.

It was a minimal gesture, almost imperceptible, but enough to reveal that Jin’s calmness and the way he held the spear had caught her attention.

It was not the clumsy posture of a novice nor the rigidity of someone imitating memorized movements. There was stability, intention… and a strange naturalness.

A mocking smile curved her lips. “Come,” she said in a light, almost provocative voice, “attack however you want.” Jin frowned slightly. Does she take me that lightly?

The feeling of being underestimated passed through his chest, but it did not turn into anger. Instead, a colder thought imposed itself immediately.

I don’t know what level this senior sister is at… better not make her angry. He exhaled slowly and, in the next instant, lunged forward.

His feet struck the ground with explosive force, driven only by the strength of his leg muscles. The ground cracked slightly under the sudden start, and his figure became a direct and determined streak.

The spear aligned with his body, the tip advancing like a straight fang, without unnecessary embellishments. A simple attack, but fierce.

It danced in his hands with surprising fluidity, chaining one basic technique after another. Straight thrusts, low sweeps, short turns to change the angle… each movement was executed with elegance and, at the same time, with explosive force born from precise control of his body.

In his mind, everything was balance.

The weight of the spear, the position of his feet, the steady breathing… every detail fit together with almost perfect clarity—or so Jin thought.

Then—

Tok!

A dry strike landed right on his forehead and the world tilted abruptly.

The momentum he carried collapsed like sand, and Jin lost his balance, falling backward until he ended up sitting on the ground. A sharp pain ran across his forehead, and he couldn’t help letting out a low grunt as he brought a hand to the point of impact.

Confused, he looked up.

Yan Mei was standing in front of him, holding a wooden sword. Her posture was relaxed, almost lazy, as if she had not moved at all. An amused—almost cruel—smile adorned her face.

“Get up,” she said lightly, “that was just the warm-up.” Jin blinked, still trying to process what had happened. Yan Mei tilted her head slightly, her eyes shining with a dangerous intensity. “Prepare yourself well,” she added, “because next time… I won’t hold back.”