When Lorian Vale awoke, the sky was already dotted with stars.
A short distance away, a campfire crackled, its flickering light casting a glow on a young boy sitting beside him.
He tried to sit up, but the boy pressed him back down. "Don't move. I've just applied the medicine."
Medicine? What medicine?
Lorian Vale was about to ask when he noticed the bottle in the boy's hand.
"White Jade Powder?" he exclaimed, recognizing the bottle's design—it was unmistakably his own.
Only then did he realize that his belongings had been thoroughly rummaged through and laid out at his feet.
"Who are you to dare touch my things?" Lorian Vale snapped, his voice thick with indignation.
A cultivator's possessions were often tied to their very survival, not to be handled lightly. His storage bag had been destroyed in the last battle, forcing him to carry his items on his person. Now, a mere mortal boy had turned them upside down.
He sat up abruptly, reaching out with his right hand. A distant, ancient-looking bronze mirror flew into his grasp. The effort stirred the spiritual energy within him, sending a surge of blood and qi roiling through his body. He spat out a mouthful of blood but ignored it, securing the mirror first. Then he grabbed a nearby jade slip, this time without using his remote-grabbing technique.
The boy answered calmly, "I know it's wrong to go through someone's things, but both of us are injured. Without medicine, we'd die."
Lorian Vale then noticed that his wounds had been coated with a thick layer of White Jade Powder. So, the boy had been treating him.
Not only that, but the boy's own back was slathered with the powder as well. White Jade Powder was a rare and precious substance—only a small amount was needed. The boy's extravagant application was nothing short of wasteful.
Lorian Vale softened his tone. "I see. But you're far too bold for your own good. Don't you know that while immortals have spiritual medicines, using them incorrectly can do more harm than good? Not using medicine might kill you, but using the wrong one will too!"
"Yes," the boy nodded, surprising Lorian Vale. "I know. That's why I checked your wounds first. I figured there was already medicine on them. I compared the White Jade Powder to what was on your injuries—it seemed to match."
Lorian Vale was left speechless.
So, the boy had inspected his wounds before applying the medicine. No wonder, out of all the remedies, he'd chosen the right one.
Without the White Jade Powder, Lorian Vale might not have woken so soon.
He explained, "My injuries may look external, but they're actually caused by invasive energy disrupting my meridians. White Jade Powder stabilizes my spiritual energy and repairs my meridians. I left the wounds open on purpose—exposing them to the air makes the medicine work faster. But for your external injuries, it's overkill and not the right treatment. You should use the Bone-Mending Ointment next to it."
"Oh, I see. I was wondering why an immortal's medicine wasn't healing a simple flesh wound," the boy said, enlightened. He picked up the Bone-Mending Ointment and applied some to his back. A cooling sensation spread immediately, easing the pain.
He took the ointment without asking, and though Lorian Vale considered stopping him, he held back. After all, the boy had saved him—it would be petty to object.
The boy sat back down beside him. "My name is Evan Reed. And you?"
In truth, Evan had heard the golden-armored deity shout Lorian's name during the battle, but he pretended not to know.
"…Lorian Vale," Lorian replied reluctantly.
Hearing this, Evan smiled.
This response meant that during the previous battle, Lorian Vale hadn't noticed him.
Or perhaps he had but didn't care. To an immortal, a mortal like Evan was likely no more significant than an ant.
Who pays attention to ants?
With that confirmed, the next steps would be easier.
"Evan Reed?" Lorian Vale mulled over the name, frowning. "That name carries too much ill omen—it's inauspicious!"
Evan chuckled. "I was born during the upheaval in the Central Lands, when the golden clouds swallowed the moon—a calamity. A fortune-teller said the celestial signs were a dire omen. He claimed I was born to bring disaster, destined to face three calamities and nine hardships, harming all living beings, overcoming my parents, friends, and even my future wife—overcoming everything close to me, even heaven, earth, all things, and the Heavenly Dao itself. So, he suggested my parents name me Evan Reed, to preemptively acknowledge the calamity and perhaps turn it into fortune."
"Absurd!" Lorian Vale exclaimed. "Under the Heavenly Dao, all things cycle. Even sages and immortals can only look up to it, unable to fathom its mysteries. How dare one claim to overcome it? That fortune-teller spoke heresy and madness—he deserved to be beaten to death!"
"He wasn't beaten to death, but he was driven away. Still, my parents gave me this name. Two years ago, I faced a great calamity—my parents died, but I survived… perhaps that was the calamity foretold," Evan said casually.
Whether it was Evan surviving while another perished or Evan transmigrating into this body, he wasn't sure.
But in this life, he was Evan Reed!
After a moment's thought, Lorian Vale asked, "Are you from Riverside Village?"
Evan shook his head. "I was just passing through. I saw you faint after defeating the bandits."
As he spoke, he patted a prepared bundle beside him, then busied himself with the medicines on the ground, using the task to mask his inner tension.
He was nervous—not because he was lying, but because he was lying to an immortal!
This was his first time facing an immortal!
And right from the start, he was deceiving him—a boldness bordering on recklessness.
Yet, he had no choice.
When Evan saw the white-robed immortal appear, he knew his life's opportunity had arrived.
The path to immortality was elusive, and few mortals ever succeeded. Even encountering an immortal didn't guarantee guidance.
He had searched tirelessly before, but finding an immortal didn't mean they'd accept him.
Still, Evan understood how crucial stepping onto the path of cultivation was in this world. He was willing to seize even the slimmest chance.
Though he had saved Lorian Vale, Lorian had also saved him by slaying the bandits. In truth, Lorian didn't owe him anything—if anything, Evan owed Lorian more, since without the battle, Lorian's old wounds wouldn't have reopened.
That was why he couldn't admit to being from Riverside Village.
He needed the immortal to feel indebted to him. Only then might he gain a sliver of immortal fate.
For that possibility, he would chase, beg, risk his life—and yes, even lie.
Fortunately, when he emerged, Lorian was already unconscious and couldn't have seen him. From their earlier conversation, Evan deduced that Lorian hadn't noticed him during the battle. Thus, claiming to be a passerby was plausible.
His only uncertainty was whether Lorian, as an immortal, could detect his lie.
It was a gamble—betting that even immortals couldn't always see through human hearts.
At least, not all of them could.
Evan resolved to take the risk!
If he won, an immortal would owe him a favor.
If he lost, it was just a small deceit—not a capital offense.
Since this immortal fought evil, he wouldn't slay Evan over a lie.
And even if he did—what of it?
Better to die than live without striving for immortality!
The fate of Riverside Village's villagers had shown Evan the misery of being powerless. He would do anything to change that destiny.
Sure enough, upon hearing that Evan wasn't from Riverside Village, Lorian Vale paused. "You're not from the village? Then how did you get that wound on your back?"
"The man you drove off was galloping away. I couldn't dodge in time and got slashed by his blade," Evan replied calmly.
Compared to his initial nervousness, Evan's second response was steadier.
Since his lie hadn't been exposed immediately, he had already won the crucial first steps.
Lorian Vale was stunned, taking a moment before saying, "I see. Thank you for your help, young friend."
"You acted with righteousness, slaying the bandits. What I did was nothing," Evan said.
"Still, I was too late to save the villagers of Riverside Village."
"At least you avenged them. I'm sure they'd be grateful," Evan replied evenly, as if the villagers' fate truly had nothing to do with him.
Seeing his expression, Lorian Vale's doubts faded. He sighed inwardly, wondering how he had incurred such a karmic debt.
Immortals valued karma. Unresolved karma could leave a crack in one's heart.
This crack might seem insignificant, but in the five realms and fourteen stages of cultivation, there was a stage known as the Heart Demon stage.
A crack in the heart could birth a heart demon. Countless cracks could spawn endless demons. Even with heaven-reaching cultivation, one would be beyond saving. Thus, every cultivator treaded carefully.
It's worth noting that heart demons had nothing to do with morality. It wasn't about repaying every favor or tying every cause to an effect. It was tied to one's character and beliefs.
If Evan had helped a demon who believed in survival of the fittest and repaid kindness with enmity, that demon could slay him without birthing a heart demon, for that was their Dao.
Killing would align with their Dao; sparing him might birth a demon instead.
Thus, heart demons knew no good or evil. They arose from actions that contradicted one's heart and beliefs during cultivation.
Hence, cultivators often held firm beliefs and rarely changed their principles, behaviors, or views.
Changing beliefs mid-path could lead to regret over past actions, birthing heart demons.
The heart couldn't be deceived—even forgotten deeds remained etched in the heart, spawning demons.
Lorian Vale, from a noble family, wasn't a saint but believed in repaying kindness.
Now, having been "aided," he felt compelled to reciprocate.
He took out a bottle of pills and pressed it into Evan's hand. "This bottle of Spirit-Nourishing Pills can nurture your spiritual organs and strengthen your energy. Even mortals can use it to fortify their bodies and ward off illness. Since you helped me, I'll give you this. You can also take the Bone-Mending Ointment."
Karma must be resolved, but how it was resolved was an art.
Cultivators lived long lives, encountering countless events and entangling karmas. If they obsessed over every detail, they'd accomplish nothing else.
Thus, cultivators had their ways of settling matters. The simplest was to offer a bottle of spiritual medicine to close the matter.
There was no need to worry about sufficiency—heart demons stemmed from one's own heart. As long as you felt the repayment was adequate and your conscience was clear, it was fine.
Hence, selective ignorance, self-deception, and self-comfort were essential skills for cultivators. But if these tactics were exposed, a few words could stir up heart demons, leading to defeat without a fight.
In immortal conflicts, some could defeat foes with words alone by exploiting this weakness. Similarly, cultivators often kept their pasts secret to avoid giving others leverage.
Lorian Vale's self-deception skills were evidently lacking, hence his generous offer of high-quality Spirit-Nourishing Pills. Thicker-skinned cultivators might even count the used White Jade Powder as repayment.
Evan, however, was a master of such arts. Though he hadn't begun cultivation, he was already adept at manipulation. Without a shred of guilt, he dismissed the pills. "I don't want them."
He didn't understand heart demons, but he understood human nature—similar in some ways.
Lorian Vale wanted to settle the debt with a bottle of pills, but Evan wouldn't accept that.
Seeing Evan refuse, Lorian Vale quickly said, "If you think it's not enough, I can—"
Evan stood up. "Helping you was just a small gesture—you don't need to worry about it. By the way, I see you came from the east. You must be heading to Anyang Prefecture. I happen to be going there too. Why don't we travel together? You're injured, and the road might be difficult. Perhaps I can help take care of you."
Evan had no idea where Lorian was going, but since the path ahead led to Anyang Prefecture, he figured claiming that as his destination couldn't be wrong.
As long as he stayed with this man, he wasn't in a hurry to ask about cultivation.
Years in the bureaucracy had taught him that to cling to a powerful figure, you first had to make them like you.
Lorian Vale, on the other hand, felt like weeping.
Just say it was a small favor and not to worry about it, he thought. Then I could thick-skinnedly convince myself that since he didn't want repayment, and he wasn't harmed or expended much, the karma is settled.
But then Evan added, Let's travel together, complicating things.
Having just been helped, rejecting him would be too callous, going against his own heart.
Cultivators could do anything except act against their own hearts!
In truth, leaving now wouldn't necessarily harm him. Such a minor matter might not even birth a heart demon.
The Heart Demon Tribulation accumulated over a lifetime of actions.
But resolving karma and acting in accordance with one's heart was a habit every cultivator cultivated over the years. It was like running a business—every transaction, big or small, had to be handled properly.
After some thought, Lorian Vale reluctantly agreed to travel together.
In his view, the boy was just a twelve-year-old child. There would surely be opportunities to help him along the way, allowing him to settle the karma.
Learning that Lorian Vale agreed to accompany him, Evan smiled happily.
The door to opportunity had opened. Now, it was up to him to seize it.
Since the heavens had sent him to this world without granting him a golden finger, he would create his own!