As the morning light spilled over the green mountains, the strange fragrance on Ethan Brooks’s body suddenly vanished, leaving not a trace. He returned to his former state. The countless mystical beasts in the mountains and the terrifying figure behind the clouds had also disappeared at some unknown time.

Logan Clark looked at his sleeping junior brother and finally stopped panicking. He let out a sigh of relief and tried to wipe the cold sweat from his forehead, only to realize that his shoulder ached so much from fanning all night that he couldn’t move.

Ethan Brooks opened his eyes and woke up. Although he had slept through the night, he knew what had happened. Seeing the pained expression on his senior brother’s face, his own face turned a bit pale as he asked, “Master, what’s wrong with me?”

The middle-aged Daoist looked at him and, after a long silence, said, “You are ill.”

According to the middle-aged Daoist, Ethan Brooks’s illness was due to congenital weakness; the nine meridians in his body could not connect. The strange fragrance from last night was because his spirit could not circulate and was forced to be expelled with his sweat. That sweat contained the essential essence of the spirit, which naturally carried a unique scent—this was a strange illness.

“Then… can you cure it?”

“No, no one can.”

“An incurable illness… is that fate?”

“Yes, that is your fate.”

…

…

After his tenth birthday, the white crane never came to the green mountains again. There was no more news from the capital, and the other side of the marriage contract seemed to have never existed. Ethan Brooks would occasionally stand by the stream, look westward, and think of this matter.

Of course, what he thought about even more was his illness—or rather, his fate… He did not become weak; aside from being a bit prone to drowsiness, he looked extremely healthy, not at all like someone destined for an early death. He even began to doubt his master’s judgment. But if his master was right, what then? Ethan Brooks decided to leave the dilapidated temple and see the bustling world while he still could. He wanted to visit the legendary Heavenly Book Mausoleum and also annul that marriage contract.

“Teacher, I’m leaving.”

“Where are you going?”

“To the capital.”

“Why?”

“Because I want to live.”

“I told you, that’s not an illness, it’s fate.”

“I want to change my fate.”

“In eight hundred years, only three people have succeeded in changing their fate.”

“They must have been remarkable people, right?”

“Yes.”

“I’m not, but I want to try.”

The capital—Ethan Brooks was always destined to go there. Whether or not he could cure his illness, he had to go. Not only because he wanted to change his fate, but also because the other side of the marriage contract was in the capital.

He packed his belongings, took the small sword handed to him by his senior brother Logan Clark, and turned to leave.

A fourteen-year-old Daoist boy, descending the mountain.

Chapter 1: I Changed My Mind

“What kind of person is that boy?”

“Very calm. He sat for half an hour without changing his posture. He only took a sip of tea at the very beginning, probably out of courtesy, and didn’t drink any more after that… In fact, even that first sip barely touched his lips. It didn’t seem like shyness, more like caution—he’s thoughtful, highly vigilant, and even faintly hostile.”

“Seems like a clever one, at least a bit shrewd… How old is he?”

“Fourteen.”

“I remember I was about that age too.”

“It’s just that his expression is so composed, he seems older.”

“So he’s just an ordinary person?”

“Yes… His aura is ordinary, clearly hasn’t even undergone marrow cleansing. There’s no visible potential, and at fourteen, even if he started cultivating anew, he wouldn’t have much of a future.”

“Even if he had a future, could he possibly compare to the head disciple of the Longevity Sect?”

“Madam, is that marriage contract real?”

“The token is real, so the contract is real as well.”

“How could the old master… have arranged such a marriage for the young lady back then?”

“If the old master were still alive, or if you could get an answer… Open the door, I want to see him.”

With a creak, the door slowly opened. Clear sunlight streamed in from the courtyard, illuminating every corner, lighting up Mrs.’s radiant face and the half jade pendant she clutched tightly in her hand. The Old Nanny who had been speaking with her stood in the corner, her whole body shrouded in shadow—if one didn’t look closely, she was almost impossible to notice.

Supported by Old Nanny, Mrs. walked outside, moving as gently as a breeze through willows. The precious gold hairpin in her hair and the ornaments on her body made no sound at all, which seemed a bit eerie.

In the courtyard, dappled shadows of trees fell across the grass, where more than a dozen massive trees stood, so large that it would take several people to encircle them. There were no servants or maids on either side of the stone path; in the distance, many people could be seen kneeling. The silent atmosphere was filled with a sense of solemnity and danger, like the trees standing straight toward the sky, or the cold weapons displayed throughout the hall.

The master of this residence was the illustrious Divine General of the Eastern Command, Chris Sullivan, of the Great Zhou Dynasty. The general ran his household as he did his army—strict and quiet. Because of today’s events, all the servants had been sent to the side garden, making the atmosphere even more oppressive. Even the spring breeze blowing over the courtyard walls seemed frozen.

Mrs. Sullivan crossed the courtyard and stopped in front of the side hall, looking at the young boy inside, her brows slightly raised.