Chapter 21: The Sleeping Immortal and the Mortal’s Dream

The woman’s body was lighter than I expected, though the weight of responsibility she carried was clearly immense. The moment I had caught her in my arms, I knew she wasn’t just some traveler or wandering cultivator—she was something greater, something beyond my understanding.

Yet, at this moment, she was helpless. A fallen bird, a warrior without strength.

I carried her through the dense forest, moving quickly but carefully. The sun was still high, casting golden rays that flickered through the leaves. My mind raced as I took in her injuries—deep gashes, bruises forming along her arms, and a faintly trembling breath. I wasn’t a doctor, nor was I some miracle worker, but I had learned a few things in my time.

By the time I reached my courtyard, I was sweating lightly, though the weight in my arms remained steady.

"Alright, let’s see what I can do," I muttered, pushing the door to one of my guest rooms open with my foot.

The room wasn’t extravagant, just simple and clean—wooden walls, a polished floor, and a bed that was a little too soft for a simple tavern owner like me. The air carried the faint scent of sandalwood and the lingering warmth of afternoon sunlight.

I gently laid her on the bed and exhaled, rubbing the back of my neck. "Phew! Finally, it’s done."

With careful hands, I pulled out the few medical supplies I had—a salve made from crushed herbs, some bandages, and a basin of warm water. I worked swiftly, wiping the dried blood, applying the ointment to her wounds, and wrapping them as best as I could. My fingers hesitated when I reached for her wrist, feeling the faint pulse beneath my touch.

Her skin was warm, but not feverish. A good sign, at least.

Stepping back, I sighed, wiping my brow. "That’s the extent of my small medical knowledge. Now all depends on the effects."

I stared at my work, feeling a sliver of doubt creep into my voice. "Although I can guarantee the effects on a normal person, in the end… it’s a mortal skill. Who knows how—or if—it’s going to have any effect on an immortal cultivator?"

I shook my head, folding my arms. "She seemed pretty strong, though," I muttered, glancing at her unconscious face. Even in sleep, there was a quiet strength about her, a kind of unshakable dignity.

I pulled up a chair, sitting beside her, my gaze lingering on her peaceful expression.

A thought slipped into my mind, unbidden.

"Man… it’d be great if I could cultivate too."

I leaned back, staring at the ceiling. "If I could cultivate, I’d be able to fly in the sky, cross vast mountains in a single step… I’d be able to see the world from above instead of being stuck here, feet planted firmly on the ground."

A small chuckle escaped me. "Well, dreams are free, aren’t they?"

I had long accepted my reality. I was just a tavern owner, a simple hunter. My hands wielded no sword of heaven, no profound arts that could shake the world.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

But still, sometimes…

Sometimes, I wondered what it would feel like to soar.

Outside, Mei Yun’s voice rang through the courtyard. "Boss! The eagle meat is ready!"

I snapped out of my thoughts, standing up with a stretch. "Coming, coming!"

Leaving the woman to rest, I stepped outside, where the scent of roasted meat greeted me like an old friend. Mei Yun had done a fine job, her skills in the kitchen as sharp as ever.

As I took a seat by the fire, tearing into a juicy piece of well-seasoned meat, I couldn’t help but chuckle. "If that so-called immortal beast saw itself being turned into dinner, it would probably die all over again from shame."

Mei Yun smirked, passing me another piece. "Maybe that’s why it lost to you in the first place—it had already accepted its fate as food."

I laughed, shaking my head.

If only life were that simple.

Meanwhile, back in the guest room, the woman stirred.

Her eyelashes fluttered, her breath deepened, and then—her eyes snapped open.

A sharp inhale. Awareness flooded back into her like a tidal wave.

"I… I'm alive?"

She sat up slowly, her fingers brushing over her own skin. Her wounds—ones that should have taken weeks to heal—were almost completely gone.

"Huh! My wounds are healed!"

She frowned, tilting her head. "How long was I unconscious?"

Her gaze drifted to the simple yet well-maintained room around her. Then, her mind replayed what had happened before she blacked out.

"That mortal… no, that senior… he must be a hidden expert! To bring me back here and treat my wounds so perfectly… Could he be one of those legendary hermits who conceal their abilities from the world?"

Her heart pounded with renewed hope.

"If I can ask for Senior’s help, I’ll definitely be able to destroy the Hundred Beast Sect!"

But before that…

She sighed, relaxing against the plush mattress. "But first… rest. This bed is so fluffy, so comfortable…"

She sank into the softness, the tension in her body melting away. But as she traced her fingers along the mattress, she suddenly stiffened.

"Huh? These patterns…"

She sat up, her fingers running over the engravings stitched into the fabric. Her expression shifted from relaxation to shock.

"There’s no mistake… these are Spiritual Qi and Dao Engravings!"

Her gaze darted around the room. The wooden furniture, the crafted items, the simple paintings—each of them radiated an aura that only an expert could recognize.

Her breath caught in her throat as her eyes landed on a particular painting.

It depicted a vast sky, an endless ocean, birds soaring high, and fish swimming freely below.

But the longer she stared, the more she felt as if she was being drawn into it.

Her vision wavered—then suddenly, the entire painting came to life.

She could see it. Feel it.

The sky stretched infinitely, the waves roared with power, the birds dived gracefully through the air. It was as if a whole different world existed within the painting itself.

Then, her gaze landed on a calligraphy scroll nearby. The words were written in a flowing, elegant script.

"The great river flows eastward, washing away all the heroes of history."

She kept staring at the calligraphy writing as if it telling a universal truth which is beyond comprehension of mortals

No matter how powerful a cultivator is, if they do not transcend mortality, they too will be forgotten.

As she read those words and thinking about it, her body

trembled,

" t-this it loosened my bottleneck... I'm about to breakthrough."

An unseen force surged through her meridians, rushing like a river breaking through a dam.

A breakthrough.

Martial Spirit Early Stage… to Middle Stage… to Peak Stage.

All in one fell swoop.

Her hands trembled. "The painting… its stimulation caused my breakthrough?"

Her heart pounded. "What in the world… is this place?"

Just then, the door creaked open.

"Oh, you’re awake," came a familiar voice.

Startled, she turned her head sharply.

The young man from before—casual, relaxed, and completely unaware of the immense power surrounding him.

Panic surged in her chest.

"Who is he really?! Where did he come from?!"

Her voice rang out before she could stop herself.

"Who are you?! Where did you come from?!"

He blinked at her, his expression calm.

"I’m just the owner of a tavern who, by chance, saved you from the forest," he said, crossing his arms. "And right now… you’re in my place."

Her breath hitched.

A simple statement.

But why did it feel like the words of a man far beyond her comprehension?

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