Half a month has passed since he had evolved the Basic Spirit Gathering Sutra into the Heavenly Spirit Refinement Art, further enhancing his efficiency. As he watered the nearly mature second-tier herbs in the garden, he heard footsteps approaching.
Turning around, Hao Yu saw Cheng Lao ascending the mountain stairs, accompanied by a boy and girl around eleven or twelve years old.
“Hm? Master is coming? Who are the kids with him? New helpers?”
The thought made Hao Yu’s heart clench. His livelihood depended on the medicinal plants he picked. If more people came to share his duties, it would cut into his source of lifespan income.
Forcing a smile, Hao Yu quickly walked over to greet them. When he reached Cheng Lao, he bowed respectfully.
The two children stared at him with curious eyes. Over the years, Hao Yu’s well-defined features had sharpened, giving him a mature and handsome appearance. His aura, enhanced by the Heavenly Spirit Refinement Art, exuded the dignity of a core disciple from a prestigious sect.
“Hao Yu,” Cheng Lao said, his tone calm but firm, “these two are your new junior brother and sister. They will assist you in picking and nurturing the herbs. Take them to settle in and explain the workings of the medicine garden.”
“Yes, Master,” Hao Yu replied, bowing as Cheng Lao walked away.
The two children, Bing Ning and Du Bin, quickly bowed to Hao Yu in respect. Their politeness pleased him, and he felt a flicker of warmth toward them.
He introduced himself and asked for their names.
Du Bin was dark-skinned, dressed in simple, worn clothes that marked him as a farm boy. Despite his appearance, his bright eyes sparkled with energy.
Bing Ning, on the other hand, was petite and dressed in finer clothes. While not stunning, her pleasant demeanor made her charming in her own way.
“Come, let me show you to your quarters,” Hao Yu said with a smile, his calm tone putting them at ease.
As they walked toward the courtyard, Du Bin’s curiosity got the better of him. “Senior Brother Hao, are there other helpers in the garden?”
Hao Yu’s smile froze for a split second. “No,” he said firmly, “I’m the only one who resides here.”
Chatting along the way, Hao Yu explained the duties in the medicine garden, though he made it clear that he would handle most of the work involving spiritual plants.
He wasn’t about to let anyone interfere with his precious source of lifespan income.
The two children hesitated, exchanging uncertain glances. Yet, with a few gentle words and some light persuasion, Hao Yu managed to win them over. Their excitement was almost palpable. As newcomers, they had expected to be burdened with endless chores, leaving them no time to cultivate. But their Senior Brother was different—he didn’t pile tasks on them. Instead, he shouldered most of their work himself.
Their talents were mediocre at best. If they couldn’t carve out time to cultivate, their dreams of becoming outer disciples of the Heavenly Sword Sect would remain just that—a dream.
Hao Yu, sensing their enthusiasm, encouraged them further. He asked them to share their experiences, carefully fostering a bond. After all, they were going to be living together for a long time. Any friction between them would sour the atmosphere, and that was the last thing he wanted.
The Next Day
As dawn broke, Hao Yu began his usual routine, inspecting the spiritual plants in the medicine garden. He carefully checked each one, ensuring they were thriving under his care.
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While engrossed in his work, a familiar voice called out from the distance.
“Hao Yu, come to the pavilion. I need to discuss something with you.”
Hao Yu straightened, a slight frown on his face. What could Master want now?
Curious but uncertain, he dusted his hands and made his way to Cheng Lao’s pavilion.
Inside the Pavilion
Hao Yu entered the room, closing the door behind him. Cheng Lao sat near an alchemy furnace, his expression calm but unreadable. He gestured to a spot across the furnace.
“Sit,” Cheng Lao instructed.
Hao Yu obeyed, sitting cross-legged as his thoughts churned. What’s this about? Did I do something wrong? Or is Master just going to scold me for missing a plant somewhere?
Cheng Lao’s gaze lingered on Hao Yu, and after a moment of silence, he spoke. “I’ve been observing your work in the medicine garden over the years. You’ve done well—better than I expected. Your dedication has not gone unnoticed.”
Hao Yu blinked, stunned by the unexpected praise. Before he could respond, Cheng Lao continued.
“From today onward, you are no longer just a disciple tending plants. You will be my true disciple. I will teach you everything I know.”
For a moment, Hao Yu was speechless. Then, a wave of realization hit him, and he felt a pang of guilt. I thought he was just an old pervert who read questionable books all day...
He glanced at Cheng Lao, who looked surprisingly dignified in the moment. Maybe I misunderstood him... Or maybe those books were... for research?
If Cheng Lao had known what was running through Hao Yu’s mind, he might have slapped him on the spot. “Research purposes,” indeed.
“Master!” Hao Yu suddenly stood, bowing deeply. His gesture was filled with sincerity and respect.
Cheng Lao’s usual gruff demeanor softened as he smiled. “From now on, if there’s anything you want to learn, ask me. Don’t hold back. I may not have many years left, so this time is precious.”
“Disciple, what are your thoughts on alchemy?” Cheng Lao asked after a moment.
Hao Yu’s eyes sparkled with excitement. “To be honest, Master, I’ve always been interested in alchemy!”
Cheng Lao let out a hearty laugh, stroking his beard. “Good! Then we’ll start right away.”
The atmosphere in the room grew lively as Cheng Lao began teaching Hao Yu the basics of alchemy. He started with controlling the fire in the furnace, his instructions clear and precise.
However, as the lesson progressed, Hao Yu found himself struggling. He accidentally scorched the herbs, melted the cauldron lid, and nearly set the pavilion ablaze twice.
Cheng Lao sat in silence, staring at the smoldering mess. “Maybe I overestimated your talent,” he muttered under his breath, though there was a flicker of amusement in his eyes.
“Master, this is just a warm-up!” Hao Yu said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck.
Since establishing their master-disciple relationship, the medicine garden became a much livelier place. Cheng Lao, who usually remained cooped up in his room, began stepping out more often. He guided Hao Yu in alchemy and occasionally shared tips with Bing Ning and Du Bin on cultivating herbs.
Bing Ning and Du Bin quickly grew fond of Cheng Lao. “Master is so kind,” Bing Ning said one day, her eyes full of admiration.
Du Bin nodded enthusiastically. “And wise! He knows so much.”
Hao Yu, overhearing their conversation, stifled a laugh. If only they knew about Master’s ‘research’ books.
.......
Time slipped by quietly, like sand through fingers.
Before Hao Yu realized it, a year had passed, and he turned nineteen. His lifespan now exceeded 2,000 years—a number that made him smirk with a mix of pride and amusement. Who needs candles on a birthday cake when you’ve got centuries to count?
It was a warm afternoon, and Hao Yu lounged on a recliner in the middle of the courtyard, a book resting lazily in his hands. The fragrance of spiritual herbs wafted from the medicine garden, where rows of carefully tended plants swayed gently in the breeze. Nearby, Du Bin and Bing Ning practiced martial techniques, their grunts and yelps occasionally breaking the serene atmosphere.
Du Bin’s stance wobbled, and he nearly tripped over his own feet. Bing Ning sighed, crossing her arms. “You’ll never get it right if you keep swinging like that!”
Hao Yu glanced at them and chuckled softly. Juniors are truly a joy to watch. Free entertainment.
He turned back to his book, his thoughts wandering. Ever since “Alchemy” appeared on his attribute panel, Hao Yu had stopped pestering Cheng Lao for lessons. Why struggle through trial and error when he could simply invest lifespan and boost his alchemy skills instantly?
It’s not laziness, Hao Yu reassured himself for the hundredth time. It’s efficiency. I’m just being resourceful. Right?
A few months back, Hao Yu had asked Cheng Lao for more seeds to expand the medicine garden. The old man had been surprisingly accommodating, trading a variety of seeds from the sect on Hao Yu’s behalf.
“Anything else you need, just tell me,” Cheng Lao had said, his tone unusually warm. It seemed that becoming a true disciple had its perks—Cheng Lao was now far more generous and attentive, even if Hao Yu sometimes suspected the old man just wanted to unload his responsibilities.
Still, Hao Yu had to admit, Cheng Lao was a responsible master.
.......
That afternoon, Hao Yu wasn’t cultivating or refining pills. Instead, he was reading a novel titled The Lonely Wanderer. Its premise intrigued him—a story about a man striving for immortality against all odds.
The book brought a wave of nostalgia, reminding Hao Yu of the web novels he had read in his previous life. With a contented sigh, he turned the page, only to freeze in surprise.
Illustrations?
The page was adorned with an intricately drawn image of the protagonist, Xiao Huzi. Hao Yu studied it closely, intrigued. Xiao Huzi was depicted as a handsome, elegant figure with a noble air and a steely determination in his eyes.
Hao Yu’s lips curved into a smirk. Handsome, huh? Too bad he’s just slightly less handsome than me. If he were on my level, I might’ve actually considered him a rival. What a pity.
He shook his head dramatically, a mock sigh escaping his lips. “Haizz, being too handsome is truly exhausting. How does one even cope?”
From the corner of the courtyard, Du Bin paused his clumsy practice to glance at Hao Yu, confused. “Senior Brother, did you say something?”
“Nothing, nothing,” Hao Yu replied, waving him off. “Focus on not tripping over your own feet!”
Du Bin flushed, resuming his practice with renewed determination, while Bing Ning stifled a laugh behind her hand.
Before long, Hao Yu became fully absorbed in the book. The struggles of Xiao Huzi resonated with him, though he couldn’t help but nitpick the occasional flaw in the protagonist’s decisions.
Really, Xiao Huzi, you call that a plan? Amateur.
Yet despite his critiques, Hao Yu found himself turning page after page, drawn deeper into the story. He marveled at the vibrant illustrations and intricate plot twists, completely losing track of time.
For the first time in ages, Hao Yu felt a simple, unburdened joy—one that had little to do with cultivation, lifespan, or survival. Maybe life as an immortal bookworm wouldn’t be so bad.