Master, This Poor Disciple Died Again Today

Hawkers’ cries rang out, offering snacks, ornaments, parasol repair, and everything in between. Children surged down the street, laughing amongst themselves. A cart rattled through, drawn by a lazy donkey.

In the middle of the street, Han Yichen paused. A young man of twenty or so years, clad in simple but fine robes, he bore a scholarly air. The summer sun blazed away overhead, beating down on his head. Lifting a hand against the sun, he squinted, searching the heavens.

A nudge brought him back to earth. An old woman chuckled. “Still looking for your immortal?”

“Grandmother,” Han Yichen greeted her. He lowered his hand sheepishly.

“I told you it was foolish. Those lofty cultivators never come down to earth. Give up. Your grandfather would forgive you.”

Han Yichen shook his head. “Grandfather wanted to see our ancestral home returned to us. I have to do what I can. Even if it’s foolish.”

She tutted, wandering down the street. “Foolish boy, foolish boy.”

Han Yichen’s eyes widened. He reached out. “Grandmother—”

With a thump, she bumped into someone and stumbled back. Before she could fall, a hand steadied her by the elbow. “Senior, my apologies.”

“You! Watch where you’re going. Don’t you know to care for your elders? A rough youth like you—”

Han Yichen jumped forward, smiling. “Grandmother, why don’t we move along?”

“Wait, wait. Are you… Han Yichen?”

He turned to the man his grandmother had bumped into, and stared.

A handsome young man a few years younger than him but several inches taller stood over them. Hair bound into a tight ponytail, he wore white robes and, oddly, a snake looped around his neck. He bowed to the both of them, a polite smile on his face. Everything about him oozed ingratiation, something lower than humility but similar.

From such a handsome face, it gave him an off-balance air. Instinctively, Han Yichen’s skin crawled. As if he doesn’t know he’s supposed to be looking down on us. Somehow, it made him want to punch the man right in his face.

“This small cultivator has received your request. Could you show me to your ancestral home?”

“You are…?” Han Yichen prompted.

“Xiao—no. Weiheng Hui.”

“Ah? This Weiheng Hui doesn’t know how to respect his elders. He’s no good,” Han Yichen’s grandmother opined.

Han Yichen’s heart pounded. “Grandmother, please. Are… are you from Starbound Sect?”

The handsome man stood. He nodded, smiling.

“You’re an immortal?”

A grimace spread over his face, quickly wiped away by a smile. “Young Master, I only have so long to spend in the mortal world. Please show me the way to your ancestral home.”

Han Yichen’s grandmother harrumphed. Leaning in, she muttered, “He walked in. Look at his shoes, they’re dusty. Real immortals fly. He’s a fake. Don’t trust him.”

“It’s very dangerous. The house has devoured several other… experts who promised they could exorcise it. Please, if you aren’t confident in your abilities, turn away now,” Han Yichen said.

Hui’s expression twisted again. He licked his lips, hesitant. Absent-mindedly, he pet the snake around his neck. After a second, his expression cleared, the smile once again pasted in place. “Not at all, not at all. This expert has faced great danger before. If I turned away, would I be able to call myself an expert? Show the way.”

Han Yichen paused another second, then bowed. “Right this way.”

With one last tut, his grandmother hobbled away down the street.

Hui followed after Han Yichen, looking around. The way I remember the mortal world is…

Mmm, I barely spent five minutes in the mortal world. I don’t remember anything about it! Compared to the mortal world I remember, it’s quite shabby. But at the same time, I feel like I walked into the past. It’s incredible. I never thought I’d get to experience this! He caught sight of a stick of sugared haws, and his mouth watered. He nudged Han Yichen. “Wait a moment.”

“Eh?”

A second later, Hui returned, chomping happily on the haws. Han Yichen gave him a strange look, which he ignored. All that nonsense about cultivators not eating is just that—nonsense! Luckily this small cultivator has plenty of gold. Even if cultivators turn up their noses, mortals take it!

Out of the city. As they walked, a bamboo stand rose up along the road. Eventually, even Hui couldn’t see very far off the side of the path. He bit the last of the haws off the stick and played idly with the leftover stick, twirling it in his hand.

Han Yichen turned abruptly down a narrow path through the bamboo. Hui blinked. If he hadn’t turned, I wouldn’t have seen it. Glancing around, he followed Han Yichen down the path.

Pale mist coiled around their ankles as they walked. Despite the summer heat, a chill curled up Hui’s legs. The sun dimmed, bamboo choking out the sky.

“Just a little further. Stick close,” Han Yichen said.

Hui paused a moment. Closing his eyes, he breathed in, taking in the qi around him. It’s faint, but it’s there. Death qi! Triumphantly, he opened his eyes.

He stood alone on the narrow, winding path. Han Yichen was nowhere to be seen.

“Young Master…? Young Master?” Hui stepped forward hesitantly. He turned left and right. Bamboo stretched in all directions, but no sign of Han Yichen remained.

Ah… I’m in it now.

The mist curled higher, almost to his knees. The hairs at the back of his neck prickled. Zhubi perked up, tongue fluttering past Hui’s jaw as he, too, took in the odd scene. Rubbing Zhubi’s head as much to comfort himself as to calm the snake, Hui pressed onward.

Up ahead, a gloomy house loomed out of the mist. Lanterns burned in its windows, the only light in the vague gray mist. Hui hurried for it, summoning his sword from his storage ring to slot it in his belt instead. Just to be safe, he tucked a few talismans against his body as well.

A dilapidated gate hung open, leading the way out of the bamboo thicket and into the courtyard. The creeping sensation grew stronger the closer Hui drew to it. As if something stood right behind him, waiting, breathing, his hairs incessantly prickled. A shiver ran up and down his back. At last, he half-ran, unwilling to look back. Ah, Hui, what have you gotten yourself into? Death qi? Death qi! How could I forget? Death qi means ghosts! Ghouls! Horrible nighttime creatures that belong in nightmares! I should have, should have… should have at least brought Li Xiang!

He paused. Eh, no. She’s in secluded training. I’d have to bother Lan Taijian to reach her, and…

No, no. This small cultivator values his neck. Give me ghosts and ghouls any day!

He stepped through the gate.

And into a bustling courtyard. Servants hurried here and there, readying the place for some grand celebration. Sunshine beamed down on him, bright as it had been moments ago. Through a window, he caught a glimpse of a grand banquet room and a lord in fine robes standing at its head.

A heavy blow landed on the back of his head. Hui stumbled, staring back. Who—?

One of the servants glared at him. “Boy! Get in the back yard. No one wants to see your face here.”

“But I… aren’t I Father’s son?”

The words came out of Hui’s mouth, but not of his will. He clasped a hand to his lips, startled. What? What’s going on?

The servant scoffed. “You were. Now he has a new wife. You’re the leftovers that should have died.”

“What?” Hui said, but no voice came out. He held out his hands.

Small, bony hands smudged with dirt. Ragged old robes, patched by an amateur hand. He touched his head and felt short hair, clipped at his jaw, not the long ponytail he’d become used to.

An illusion. Hui drew a breath and started to circulate his qi, then paused. This illusion that this space is showing… isn’t it likely what’s been eating all the other experts? If I break out of it, I might not be able to get back in. I’m no expert illusionist. Instead, if I watch it to the end, won’t I get a better idea of why this space is like this?

As long as I don’t get eaten, that is…