Hao Ling stared at his left hand. It was tightly wrapped in a clean, linen bandage and exuded a strong herbal aroma. His index finger was conspicuously missing.

“I thought it would stop hurting now,” he said in an amazed voice. “But I guess, this way, it’s as if I didn’t really lose it.”

His attempt at humor didn’t find a receptive audience. The big-nosed boy's face scrunched up and his shoulders shook, holding back a sob. Jin remained silent, but waves of guilt washed over him.

They were in Jin’s room. Despite their hopes, Hao’s finger couldn’t be saved. The healer took only a single glance at the twitching mess of flesh, and decided to amputate.

Rou Mi’s gift came in useful, however. Jin had nearly strangled the man when he saw him coming with a pair of iron pincers, eager to start operating without even giving Hao anything to dull the pain.

With silver in hand, the quack underwent a complete metamorphosis. He straightened his back, retreated to a backroom to wash his hands, and even returned carrying a small box of incense balls.

He put one of these balls in a pipe, lit it up with practised ease, and blowed a wisp of silvery smoke into Hao’s face. With just one whiff, the boy’s eyes glazed over and a silly smile bloomed on his lips.

The operation went successfully, and the healer even took pains to clean and dress the gash on Hao’s head. He also applied some balm that reduced the swelling on his eyes. The care he showed was so great, that in the end, Jin ended up bowing to the man in a heartfelt gratitude.

But it didn’t change the fact that Hao’d been permanently crippled.

“I don’t understand,” he and the snot nosed boy spoke at the same time. The boy shot him a hateful look, but Jin disregarded him. ‘Why did you speak up for me?”

Jin really couldn’t comprehend it. Life in the mine didn’t work that way. Life in general didn’t work that way. He had sometimes looked down on the other miners - after all, he had diligently put all the silver he had acquired towards education, while the other miners wasted it away in brothels or gambling, but that was it.

For Hao to speak up for him, when nothing good could’ve come out of it, was just incomprehensible.

Hao slowly blinked his eyes. The effects of the drug were still present. He answered in a slurred, slightly loopy voice.

“We always lose something… life is like that. But sometimes we get to choose what we lose,” he stared at his bandaged hand.

The stump twitched. Jin flinched as he realised Hao was probably trying to flex his missing finger.

“I’ve lost my finger,” Hao continued in a serene tone. “But I can still feel it. And if I didn’t speak up, I would’ve lost something else. But if that happened, I don’t think I would be able to feel it again.”

Jin stared at him. He found it impossible to reconcile the words he just heard, and the disposition he witnessed, with the face and the voice of a boy three years his junior. For the first time, he began to wonder how did Hao Ling end up in the mine.

“That’s the stupidest thing I have ever heard!’ the snot nosed brat exclaimed. He was so angry, he was shaking. “I don’t know where you heard it, but—“

“I learned it from my—” Hao interrupted him, only to suddenly let his voice trail off uncertainly.

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A happy smile lightened his face. It was clear that this was something he wanted to share. “He doesn’t have a name, people just call him the empty monk. He doesn’t follow any scripture and doesn’t pray to any deity, but he is a great man all the same. When I was little, he took me in from the streets, and taught me everything I know.”

He glanced at Jin and the other boy, and hastened to explain. “He is incredibly wise. When we travelled the lands I saw him reconciling the deepest enmities and bringing comfort to even greatest sorrows. Many times I could see bereft mothers, their loss leaving them in a grieving stupor, rising with smiles on their faces, after listening to just a few of his words. He is a mortal man, but even Immortals came to him for guidance, I saw it once…”

“And where is he now?” Snot-nose interrupted. “You say he’s still alive? Will he come to save you?”

Hao shook his head, the light in his eyes dimming a little. “He’s the one who’s sold me to the Sect. In exchange for twenty silver coins.”

At that, even the snot-nosed boy fell silent.

“Brother Jin,” Hao asked with a calm smile. “Will you read us something? My… the nameless monk often read to me when we camped on the road.”

Jin nodded and picked up Journey of the Rose, the book that even an Immortal’s niece found interesting.

It told an epic tale of a prince from a faraway land who had been displaced at birth and forced to live out his life as a lowly commoner. One day, however, fate intervened, revealing his true birthright and setting him on a great journey full of unbelievable adventures and intrigue.

Jin flipped to the end, the part where the prince had triumphantly reclaimed his throne.

The realm had suffered greatly under the rule of the impostor, but with the prince's return, the Heavens rejoiced, blessing the lands with peace and prosperity. The barren fields blossomed with new life, wildlife teemed within desolate forests, and old virtues found their way into the hearts of every citizen.

Life was idyllic. After a lifetime of adventure, the prince could finally relax and spend his days in endless banquets and celebrations.

Hao Ling dozed off, his face serene. His head rested against the shoulder of the snotty-nosed boy who had also succumbed to slumber.

Jin continued to read, feeling an unfamiliar sensation stirring inside him. He had perused this part countless times, but something about it felt different today.

He always liked it before, that was why he chose it, but reading it now left him with a sense of unease. Throughout the story, the prince had been a great warrior, bravely facing any danger or adventure coming his way. The culmination of his journey should’ve been a crowning moment, but instead, it made the prince somehow seem smaller.

“And The Heavens rejoiced at the return of order and harmony.”

In Jin Sou’s mind, the flowery descriptions of endless banquets started to paint a picture of a golden cage. It was as if returning to his rightful place had drained the prince of his spirit, leaving behind only a shadow of his former self.

“Reaching the end of one’s path…” an unexpected voice rang out in Jin’s mind. “It’s something that even the Sages find difficult to bear.”

Jin's thoughts took an abrupt turn, as if a sudden gust of wind had blown through his mind.

He realised, though he didn’t understand the reason, that he no longer needed to fear the wrath of Big Lu. Even more surprising was the fact that he had somehow managed to withstand the interrogation of the blue-robed Immortal. There was no longer any reason to silence him.

The long tribulation that had began with him unearthing the mysterious treasure had finally come to an end.

He could return to his previous life.

Jin felt it with a certainty beyond mere intuition.

Random chance had shattered the once steady trajectory of his life, hurling him into danger and thrusting him into the path of people he should never have met.

Now, with the dust settling, he felt a different, even more powerful force pushing him towards accepting this new reality.

He would continue to live out his days as a mine slave. His qi had changed and improved, setting him on the path to become a warden himself, perhaps even succeeding Big Lu one day, but that was it.

The memories of fear and terror he had experienced rushed back to him like a malevolent spectre. He recalled cowering under his blanket like a scared animal, praying for this torment to end, and his life to return to normal.

He could have it now.

But Jin didn’t want it.

The seed of an idea that had lain dormant in his mind for years suddenly began to stir.

It was a fantasy that all slaves shared, no matter how much the Sect tried to stamp it out. They lay in their cramped quarters, muscles sore from the day's labor, falling asleep to comforting dreams of a life completely different from their own.

But Jin wasn’t dreaming.

His eyes were open.

He didn’t know it, but today was his fifteenth birthday.

“Immortality…”