Even with poor natural endowments and dull aptitude, if one practices diligently day and night and puts in ten times the effort, it is said that hard work can make up for lack of talent. However, he was utterly without any spiritual roots; no matter how hard he cultivated, he gained nothing.

Even with the true teachings of immortals, he was unable to cultivate, unable even to open the very first gate of the Dao. After a hundred years, he would die of old age like any ordinary person.

Later, in his confusion, a gust of wind toppled the nine-ox-two-tiger dough figurine, knocking it southward.

The Southern Dipper governs life, the Northern Dipper governs death.

Brian Carter, residing in the celestial palace and well-versed in Daoist texts, considered this an omen. After careful thought, he realized that staying in the celestial palace was a waste of time, so he had no choice but to descend to the mortal realm in search of opportunity.

When he departed, he took with him the "Huangting Immortal Sutra" he had pondered over for some time, the iron rod he used to stoke the fire while refining elixirs, and ate the half-raw, nearly ruined nine-ox-two-tiger dough figurine.

"By my reckoning, it has been several years already."

Brian Carter sighed with melancholy.

Since descending to the mortal realm, he had been traveling south, striving to seek fortune for several years, and had endured countless dangers.

Over these years, he had evaded tigers and wolves, avoided tree demons, been wounded by wood spirits, escaped from the hands of monsters and demons, and had several close brushes with death.

It was not until he set foot in Li Village that he finally enjoyed a period of peace.

Li Village was a settlement on the southern border of Shu in the Central Plains. If one continued further south, they would have to cross the deep mountains and forests ahead to reach the Southern Liang Kingdom.

Within those dense mountains and forests, there were many fierce birds and beasts, and it was rumored that monsters and spirits also lurked there, making it impassable for ordinary people.

But to go around would mean a long detour. Moreover, it was the border between two countries, a place where armies confronted each other, and passage was forbidden.

Thus, he had stayed here for several days.

During this time, he was invited by Mr. Foster of the village to teach the children to read, which also helped to calm his own mind.

Brian Carter sighed inwardly, looked up out the window, and saw the bright moon in the sky. He thought to himself, "Tonight is the thirteenth. When the fifteenth comes, it will be the day when the great immortal lectures again."

He let out a long sigh and sank into contemplation.

He imagined a bright moon rising above his head, which then split into six.

Six beams of moonlight shone down, dreamlike.

Moonlight fell, thin as gauze, cool as water.

It illuminated the nine-tiered jade tower between his brows.

……

Late at night.

The moonlight was hazy.

Suddenly, a shrill scream pierced the night, sounding mournful and terrifying.

The sound echoed throughout the entire village.

Brian Carter was startled awake. He rolled out of bed, grabbed the iron rod at hand, and rushed outside.

"What happened?"

Someone had already arrived and called out.

The person who had screamed was still catching his breath and said, "Mr. Foster..."

Brian Carter saw his face was deathly pale and filled with fear. Realizing something was wrong, he hurried over.

Inside the house, an old man lay collapsed by the bed. His clothes over his chest and abdomen were torn open, revealing five deep, bone-exposing wounds slashing diagonally—shocking to behold.

He was barely breathing, but not yet dead.

Meanwhile, the rest of the villagers arrived one after another.

There was chaos and commotion; the village had no doctor, and everyone was at a loss.

Seeing that Mr. Foster's injuries were severe, Brian Carter thought for a moment and said, "Let me try."

Back in the celestial palace, he had once been the boy who tended the fire for the great immortal while refining elixirs.

To avoid mistakes during alchemy, he had read many herbal texts and thus understood various medicinal principles, and had also dabbled in the art of healing.

Hearing Brian Carter speak up, the villagers looked at each other in surprise, but in the end, they made way for him.

There was no doctor in the village; one would have to go to the town to fetch one, but by the time they returned, Mr. Foster would likely not survive.

This young man, Brian Carter, had come to the village a few months ago. He taught the children to read, was gentle and modest, meticulous and humble—a learned scholar.

Literate people were usually well-read and often perused medical books, so it was not surprising that he knew some medicine.

It was just that this young man was always humble and quiet, so no one had realized he also possessed medical skills. Now, they were surprised.

Brian Carter stepped closer and frowned even more deeply.

These were claw wounds—five in total, slashing diagonally. The middle wounds were deep, the ones on the sides shallower.

There was no time to think further; he immediately began first aid.

At his urging, someone boiled hot water, someone fetched strong liquor, someone found medicine, and someone brought gauze.

After a flurry of activity, the bleeding was finally brought under control.

Mr. Foster's breathing and pulse gradually stabilized.

After a long while, when the commotion subsided, peace was restored.

Suddenly, Brian Carter felt something was off, as if he had overlooked something. Then a figure flashed through his mind, and he exclaimed, "Little Grace?"

Little Grace was Mr. Foster's granddaughter, also taught by Brian Carter. She was a very well-behaved girl, and it was thanks to Mr. Foster and his granddaughter that Brian Carter was able to stay here.

Now Mr. Foster lay gravely injured, but Little Grace was nowhere to be seen.

Upon hearing this, the villagers became even more frantic. As neighbors, they were all very concerned and scattered to search for her.

Since Brian Carter knew medicine, he stayed in the house to care for Mr. Foster. But his brows remained tightly furrowed, as if pondering something, as he walked around the room, noticing some traces.