Chapter 110
The sky blazed with sunset hues. A seven-colored divine bird soared across the distant, layered mountains, its sharp talons skimming the ocean surface, sending towering waves crashing onto the shore.
Seeing the drenched figures by the shore, the bird let out a cruel laugh.
“Master, are you alright?” A young boy, clad in simple cloth, a basket on his back, rushed towards Wu Heng.
Wu Heng waved his hand dismissively. Only one such bird existed in each region, and this one, with its vibrant plumage, often lured prey – spirit beasts and even humans – with its beauty before devouring them, thankfully, it knew better than to trifle with a shaman doctor, contenting itself with petty pranks, “Master, it’s me, Yue! Remember me?”
Wu Heng, clutching a small gourd, his gaze fixed on the horizon, patiently replied, “I remember. But you’re not my disciple. Now, wait,” He had come to the estuary, where the river met the sea, a specific time, a specific date, for the Kunpeng to surface and breathe. He needed the water it exhaled, a mixture of river and sea, a potent medicinal ingredient.
[Translator’s Note: Kunpeng is a mythical creature from Chinese mythology. It is said to be a giant fish (Kun) that can transform into a massive bird (Peng), symbolizing great power and transformation.]
In ancient times, gods, humans, and spirits mingled freely, this river a passage between realms, even now, rumors of deities and ghosts lingered, connecting Heaven, Earth, and the Underworld.
Wu Heng accepted this. His soul wasn’t whole, a Great Shaman had once told him, pieces missing, destined to return one day to where he belonged, whole again.
It didn’t bother him much, those missing pieces only made his memories of others hazy, he was a loner anyway, others merely strangers or patients, their lives, their stories, unimportant.
This young boy, rescued during a plague, had stayed, becoming his shadow, he even addressed Wu Heng as “Master.” He was at his humble abode at the foot of Mount Kun, his home.
As they chatted, the sunset faded, day giving way to night, Yin and Yang in delicate balance, whirlpools forming in the ocean, and a colossal creature breached the surface, its massive form creating towering waves. The Kunpeng, and Wu Heng, looking up at the giant beast, “Such a large Kunpeng,” it wouldn’t fit in any pot, and it was tainted with a dark, unsettling aura, unlike the divine mounts of the gods, he jumped, the small gourd in his hand, collecting the exhaled mist, then, just as he closed it, a cold hand gripping his wrist, pulling him down, he was pulled into the icy water. He saw a tall figure, shrouded in shadows, and he kicked it, sending it tumbling into a whirlpool, not an easy target, reaching the shore quickly, his wet clothes drying instantly with a spell, Yue tugging at his robes, worried. He followed the boy’s gaze and saw him, a man in black, his gaze intense, unwavering, he could feel him now, Shi Xuan, and from within him, a familiar aura. Shi Xuan emerged. ‘One of my guards… has he strayed into your… domain?‘ the man asked.
Wu Heng, observing his attire, a high-ranking official from the underworld, and he had collected the Kunpeng’s breath for a patient down there, must be some method of tracking, spirits sensing each other,
“I do have a soul here.”
He led the man back to his cave on Mount Kun, who followed at a distance, his eyes scanning his surroundings, the vibrant energy, the carefully tended medicinal fields, a true shaman doctor, then stopping just outside the boundary, his hand raised, a wave of Yin qi emanating from his palm, blighting the nearby plants, considerate, not wanting to harm his precious herbs, Wu Heng smiled, “Hei Yi, your leader has arrived,” and a figure emerged from the small hut, rushing towards the man, his ghostly eyes filled with gratitude,
‘You came! Thanks to this Great Shaman Doctor, I’m cured!’
Wu Heng handed Yue the gourd to prepare the final dose of medicine, and Hei Yi, his face pale, approaching Shi Xuan hesitantly, ‘My lord… did you bring… compensation? I still haven’t…’ he started, Wu Heng never pressed for payment, but they always did, debts settled, and Shi Xuan touched his pouch, filled with underworld currency. But that wouldn’t do, he knew, and Wu Heng, watering his rare and delicate herbs, said with a smile, “There’s no rush,” “Do… you need any… treatment?” he then offered, Shi Xuan looked at him, surprised, and he pointed, “There’s a strong Yin qi… Injured?” he asked gently, Shi Xuan’s injuries, commonplace, from battles, protecting others, he didn’t usually bother, they always healed, he was immortal, he looked at him for a moment, then, stepping back, choosing a bare patch of ground, sat, his robes falling open, revealing his toned physique, a long scar on his chest, his hands extended towards Wu Heng, a silent request, and he knelt beside him, his cool fingers examining the wound, his expression serious, a small wooden bowl with a dark herbal paste, the cool touch strangely soothing, a new experience. He looked down at the shaman, his long eyelashes, his focused expression, “What is it?” Wu Heng asked, looking up.
And the ghost guard who had accompanied him quickly explained, ‘Our Lord has never received… treatment before, please forgive him, Master Shaman Doctor,’ They were spirits of the underworld. his very presence a contradiction, and yet, healed by him, their lord’s strange behavior understandable, ‘I’ll retrieve the payment,’ Shi Xuan said, rising, heading towards the exit.
The ghost guard, startled, floating after him anxiously, ‘My lord! I’m fully recovered now! I’m ready for duty!’
‘Not yet. Rest,’ Shi Xuan replied, his tone firm,
Yue, rubbing his sleepy eyes, turned to his master, “I didn’t know the ruler of the underworld could be so… caring.”
The ghost guard beamed, “Our Lord is the best!”
But the next day, their patient returned, empty-handed, ‘My apologies, I forgot,’ he said, his face impassive, extending his hand, the gash still there, bleeding now, the dark blood blighting the earth around it.
Wu Heng, unfazed by this, glanced at the barren patch, a wasteland anyway, “No worries, add it to the tab, you need me to treat that?”
Shi Xuan sat, the same spot, extending his hand again, Wu Heng tending to it, his touch gentle, then noticed the wound on his chest, completely healed now, even underworld officials, their recovery not this fast, ‘They’re separating soon. Heaven, Earth, and the Underworld. Injuries might become more frequent,’ Shi Xuan explained, seeing his puzzled expression, gods, humans, ghosts, no longer mingling freely, a necessary division, they had agreed on this, the ghost guard approached eagerly. ‘My lord, I’m cured! I can return to my duties!‘ and Shi Xuan, looking down at his hand, covered in a green paste, like crushed leaves, cool and soothing, said, ‘Not fully recovered. Rest,’ The guard, ‘?’ My lord, his healthy, strong physique ignored? Injuries, once commonplace, a new habit, broken, this, his frequent visits a new routine, Wu Heng noticed, the ghost guard practically unemployed, but Shi Xuan seemed to enjoy it, his presence a quiet comfort, and now, returning, Shi Xuan wasn’t there,
“Master went to the East Mountain alone, collecting herbs,” Yue mumbled, taking out an ointment box and hurrying towards him, “Master said, if you’re injured, I’m to apply this,” his cheeks flushed, his eyes gleaming as he looked at the bleeding gash, “Please, sit, he urged, I’ll help,” and Shi Xuan, glancing at the boy, then his hand, the black mist dissipating, the wound closing, “No need,” he said calmly, withdrawing his hand.
Yue, stunned, ‘Ah?‘ He looked at him, puzzled.
Was it too minor an injury, self-healing?
Or did he not trust him, a mere human child? Preferring Wu Heng’s expert care?
Probably both, Yue, no family name, no one in his village did, he just knew he lived with the shaman, learning herbs and spells, powerless against the plague, everyone dead, except for him, found by Wu Heng, burning with fever, only a boy, saved. He had nothing to repay his kindness. He would work harder. Learn more. Be useful. Help him, tend his gardens, his herbs, but he wasn’t Wu Heng, and Shi Xuan, his gaze turning to his guard, ‘You can return to your duties now,’ he said, and the guard, overjoyed, jumped up, then paused, ‘But… I haven’t paid yet,’ and surely after so many visits, he deserved more, and Shi Xuan, his gaze on the seven-colored divine bird circling arrogantly in the sky, ‘I’ll retrieve the payment,’ As night fell, Wu Heng returned from the East Mountain, stepping lightly, setting down his basket, his gaze drawn to the stone table.
A single, vibrant feather, lying there, a gift from the very bird that had soaked him earlier.
