John Archer never expected such a good thing—to help an old man and receive an immortal treasure in return.

　　“But I need to give you a choice,” the man said. “That old man will give you a Nine-Turn Primordial Spirit Pill and an immortal artifact, but you can only choose one. And your choice will directly affect your fate.”

　　“If you choose the Nine-Turn Primordial Spirit Pill, you will be able to cleanse your marrow and transform your body, gradually becoming half-immortal. In your twenty-first year, there will be a great catastrophe in the world, and you must use your half-immortal body to turn the tide and save all living beings. However, once you choose this path to immortality, you will inevitably grow distant from your wife, ultimately losing the one you love and living a life of loneliness.”

　　After hearing this, John Archer was stunned, as if he truly saw the future the man described.

　　In John Archer’s memory, a vague image appeared of himself as a half-immortal. By then, he no longer needed to eat or sleep, and his daily life was completely out of sync with his wife. Gradually, the two of them had nothing in common, becoming like strangers. And the wife in that vision was none other than Helen Archer, with whom John Archer had recently grown closer.

　　John Archer found it strange—why did these memories feel so real, as if he had truly experienced them?

　　The man continued, “If you choose the immortal artifact, you will remain a mortal for your entire life. The artifact can only save you from danger at a critical moment and keep you safe. You will be destined never to save all living beings, but you can grow old together with the one you love. As for the fate of the world, let whoever wants to save it do so.”

　　John Archer pondered for a while.

　　All living beings?

　　Who does that refer to?

　　Does it mean the parents who abandoned him on the mountain to fend for himself?

　　Or the villains who drove Helen Archer up the mountain, leaving her to be bitten to death by poisonous insects?

　　John Archer was confused.

　　Why should he abandon Helen Archer, who depended on him for survival, for the sake of these people?

　　But strangely, unlike before, no matter how hard John Archer tried to imagine, he could not see the future the man described—growing old together—as if it would never happen.

　　But what did that matter?

　　“It seems you have your answer,” the man said, looking at John Archer’s expression with a slight smile. “That’s only fair. Everyone should have the right to choose their own life.”

　　With that, the man flicked his sleeve and vanished on the spot.

　　John Archer knew he had truly encountered an immortal. Excited, he rushed home to tell Helen Archer about it, completely forgetting the man’s warning: “Do not speak of this to outsiders.”

　　Helen Archer blushed slightly after hearing it. She didn’t care about immortals at all. She bit her lip and asked, “John Archer, do you wish to grow old with me?”

　　“Huh?”

　　“I mean, are you willing to marry me as your wife?”

　　Helen Archer’s fair face was now flushed red. She lowered her head slightly, twisting her clothes with her fingers, breathtakingly beautiful.

　　“I... I am willing.”

　　John Archer answered, trembling.

　　Helen Archer shed tears of joy, and the two embraced.

　　For John Archer at this moment, was there anything in the world more important than Helen Archer?

　　The next day, John Archer really did encounter an old man on the hillside. The old man had white hair and a youthful face, dressed in a spotless white robe. Who knew what kind of magic he was performing? His eyes were half-closed as he sat cross-legged on a large rock, palms facing the sky. In front of him, a black cauldron spun in the air. The old man was drenched in sweat, urging a blazing red flame to burn the black cauldron.

　　“They say I need to help this old man, but how can I help him?” John Archer hid in the shadows, watching. It was clear this old man was no ordinary person.

　　The flames beneath the black cauldron grew fiercer, and the cauldron itself began to shake, as if the magic had reached a critical moment.

　　Just then, something rustled in the grass and slowly appeared behind the old man.

　　John Archer looked closely and saw that the creatures looked like two wolves, but one had an especially short front leg and couldn’t walk, only lying on the other’s back. Though disabled, its eyes were cunning. Clearly, they had been waiting for this moment to strike at the old man.

　　“This is... a bèi?!” John Archer thought, alarmed. He’d heard from his parents as a child that there was a kind of wolf born without front legs, unable to walk, and could only lie on the backs of other wolves. They were extremely intelligent and called “bèi.” In a hundred years, a wolf pack might not produce even one bèi, but if one appeared, it would surely lead the pack to wreak havoc on the world with its intelligence.

　　John Archer made a snap decision, quickly drew an arrow, bent his bow, and shot the wolf dead. The bèi, losing its mount, fell to the ground. Before it could react, John Archer shot two more arrows at it.

　　One arrow sealed its throat, the other pierced its heart and lungs.

　　The bèi lay dying on the ground, barely alive.

　　John Archer looked back at the old man, who seemed unaware of everything, still half-closing his eyes and urging the flames.

　　Suddenly, there was a muffled bang from the black cauldron. The lid was blown off, and a beam of golden light shot straight into the sky.

　　The old man’s half-closed eyes finally opened. He said in a low voice, “Trying to escape?”