It seemed that this setback was quite fatal. The ghostly face instantly grew much weaker, unable even to maintain its form, and was driven back like a receding tide, leaving this body behind.

Now, only the new soul occupied the boy’s shell.

The boy opened his eyes, utterly bewildered.

“So there really is a hell after death? Is this what hell is like?”

Silence.

After a moment, a faint voice drifted up: “What are all those computers, phones, videos, novels, and AVs filling your soul?”

The boy replied, “Huh? You’ve been in hell all these years and still don’t know about those?”

“……” The voice paused for a long while, then said helplessly, “Who are you?”

“My name is William Foster.”

The voice sounded a bit mocking: “What a coincidence. From the soul I just devoured, it seems the person you’ve possessed is also called William Foster.”

Hearing this, the boy immediately grew alert: “No, this isn’t hell… Who are you?”

“You can call me Alice Carter.” The voice spoke slowly, “This is not hell, but it could be considered hell. Do you… want to leave?”

“How do I leave?”

“Pick me up, and you’ll be able to leave.”

“Pick you up?”

“There’s a wolf-tooth club stuck in the ground next to your hand—that’s me.”

William Foster: “……”

The moment William Foster pulled out the wolf-tooth club, space twisted. The entire area suddenly vanished, and when he opened his eyes again, he was atop a mountain, under a sparse, starry moon, with red clouds swirling around.

At the same time, at the foot of the mountain, in a small village.

An old farmer sat up from his kang bed.

A woodcutter opened his door and gazed at the moon.

The yellow dog at the village entrance turned its head to look toward the mountain peak.

“The gate is open?”

“No, it’s not.”

“That’s because I guard the gate, while you only guard the tomb.”

“I actually don’t want to guard the tomb.”

“Then why don’t you leave?”

“If it leaves, this place won’t be a tomb anymore.”

“I’ve never thought you made so much sense before.”

……

The Southern Li Royal Palace.

“Father, may you be well.”

“Ethan Carter, Olivia Carter, you’ve come at just the right time. Last night I took the national advisor’s golden elixir and feel a bit younger. Look, haven’t my white hairs lessened?”

The young prince was silent for a while, then said softly, “Father, in this world there’s no…” Seeing his father’s face darken, the prince stopped and changed the subject: “Last night, the general reported that the Western Wasteland Kingdom has stationed troops at Stone City—there may be some movement.”

The king waved his hand impatiently: “You go handle it.”

“Yes.” The prince quietly withdrew.

Leaving the palace, he turned to look back for a moment, then shifted his gaze to the resplendent Daoist temple in the west of the city. There, worshippers thronged, bowing devoutly, while ethereal celestial music echoed and incense smoke curled, making the temple seem like a palace of immortals.

The prince’s eyes gradually grew cold.

“Brother, do you dislike Samuel Wright too?” A clear voice sounded at his ear.

“Too?” The prince looked at his sister. “Don’t you admire immortals?”

“I do admire immortals, but aren’t immortals supposed to live on wind and dew, coming and going in the blue heavens? How could they come to this mundane world to be some national advisor?”

The prince couldn’t help but laugh: “True.”

“Hey, there are legends of immortals in many places. Let’s go find a real immortal. If we really find one, I’ll follow him to cultivate…”

The prince gazed at the temple, lost in thought for a moment, then smiled in reply: “Alright, when I have some free time, I’ll go with you to look.”

Chapter One: Seeking Immortals

Two months later, the autumn air was crisp and clear.

At dusk.

At the foot of the mountain, in a small village, wisps of cooking smoke drifted lazily upward. A few children ran and played between the houses, while farmers were still harvesting rice in the fields by the roadside. The big yellow dog lay lazily outside the house, sniffing the aroma of dinner wafting from inside as the sun set.

The sound of hooves approached from afar, shattering the village’s tranquility. The big yellow dog jumped up in alarm, arching its back and watching the distant dust warily.

A black and a white steed galloped over. As they reached the village entrance, both slowed their pace and looked up at the mountain not far away.

The evening glow illuminated the mountains, where clouds and mist lingered, tinged crimson by the light. Jagged rocks jutted into the sky, and amid the swirling red clouds, the scene resembled a fairyland.

At the foot of the mountain, a shepherd boy rode by on a cow, his flute playing a gentle tune, making the rural scene even more peaceful.

“It’s just as they said—this place really does have a touch of immortal air.” On the white horse was a boy of about fourteen or fifteen, with rosy lips and white teeth. His long black hair was neatly tied in a warrior’s topknot with a silver ribbon, the end draping down like black satin, giving him a free and easy look. His bright eyes gazed at the mountains, full of hope.

On the black horse was a young man in brocade robes, looking four or five years older. The two shared some resemblance, making it easy to guess they were brothers. The difference was that the young man’s features were more sharply defined, giving him a colder, more serious air.

Both horses carried long oilcloth bags, from which the cold gleam of spear tips could be seen.

Hearing the boy’s words, the young man didn’t respond, simply gazing quietly at the shepherd boy in the distance, silent for a long time.

“What’s wrong?” the boy turned to ask.

“It’s nothing.” The young man came back to himself and smiled. “It’s just that the melody is unlike any I’ve ever heard—fresh and distant, making one feel relaxed and happy.”

The boy nodded in agreement. If the surroundings alone had five or six parts of immortal air, with the gentle flute, it suddenly felt like seven or eight.