Chapter 2

The Morning Market.

The snow had stopped, and the streets had been cleared of their white blanket.

The marketplace buzzed with life—vendors shouting their wares, steam rising from freshly steamed buns.

Yuanxi took a seat on a long bench and ordered a bowl of wontons.

Around her, the crowd flowed like a river: sedan chairs carried the wealthy, merchants rode horses, laborers balanced loads on shoulder poles, donkeys hauled goods, and wheelbarrows rattled past.

The scene was lively, almost festive.

Everyone’s faces glowed with contentment—a stark contrast to the bruised and battered boy she had seen last night, locked in a room, left to die.

The sight had twisted her heart.

She had come too late.

Her divination had been off by eight years.

She had rushed down the mountain yesterday, worried that the boy might be too attached to his family to leave willingly.

But now, seeing his circumstances, taking him away wouldn’t be difficult at all.

As she scooped wontons into her mouth, an old man sat down across from her, pouring himself a cup of water without invitation.

He took a sip and tsked.

“You’ve been living easy, hiding for ten years. Took me forever to track you down here.”

“What do you want? I’ve got no spiritual energy left—can’t help you.”

Though she had regained about 20% of her spiritual energy, it wasn’t enough to do much.

“The Sect Leader said you don’t need to do anything. Just station yourself at Yuqiong Peak, and our Bicang Sect will remain the number one immortal sect in the world.”

After all, she was the only one who had achieved an immortal body—ageless, deathless.

“I really can’t. I’ve got my own problems.”

She still had that looming calamity in ten years—one she needed Fu Jing to help her survive.

But right now, the question wasn’t whether he could help her in a decade—it was whether he’d even live to eighteen.

Last night, realizing her miscalculation, she had hurried to him, only to find him half-dead.

The sight had nearly scared her soul out of her body.

She had to stay by his side, protect him until he grew up.

“I know you divined that adopting a child would resolve your calamity. Now that you’ve found him, why not just take him and go?”

Yuanxi shook her head.

“He still has unfinished business in the mortal world. I can’t just whisk him away.”

The old man’s patience wore thin.

He threw up his hands.

“So we’re supposed to wait forever?”

Yuanxi shot him a cold look.

Did he really think pressuring her would work when his only concern was profit? She lowered her eyelids.

“Once I take him, I’ll find a place to raise him. Until the calamity passes, I won’t return to the sect. Don’t come looking for me.”

Finishing her meal, she tossed a few copper coins to the vendor and left.

The old man watched her go, clicking his tongue.

Twelve years ago, Elder Yuanxi had fought a legendary battle at the Summit of Gorges, defeating eight major sects in one fell swoop.

Her fame had skyrocketed—but so had her injuries.

She had secluded herself in Yuqiong Peak to recover, refusing to let anyone near.

When she reemerged two years later, it was like she had become a different person.

Back then, every cultivator had envied her—soaring through clouds, ethereal as a true immortal.

Now? She didn’t even use spells anymore, traveling by horse-drawn carriage like a mortal.

The cold, aloof woman who once disdained idle chatter now spoke with others, even showing traces of warmth.

The Sect Master speculated that her near-fatal injuries at the Summit of Gorges must have changed her.

The old man fished out his own coins, dropped them on the table, and left, shaking his head.

Though Fu Jing had survived, his life in the Fu Manor grew worse by the day.

Before, his meals had sometimes been spoiled—but at least he got three a day.

Now?

Only breakfast.

No lunch, no dinner.

In theory, even as an illegitimate son, he was still a young master—yet he had no servants.

The household staff took their cues from their superiors.

An unloved, abused child was lower than a servant.

If they didn’t kick him when he was down, it was already kindness.

Who would serve him?

His room was silent, the stove cold, not even water to drink.

Hunger gnawed at him until his limbs trembled.

Finally, his stomach growling too loudly to ignore, Fu Jing sneaked into the kitchen, glancing around to make sure no one saw.

From the rooftop, Yuanxi sighed.

Sure enough, shouts erupted moments later.

The cook dragged Fu Jing out by the ear, cursing as he hauled him to the eldest young master to tattle.

Another beating followed.

Clutching his bruised body, stomach still empty, Fu Jing stumbled back to his room.

The moment he pushed the door open, he froze.

Something was different.

The air carried the rich, savory scent of meat.

He hurried inside, shutting the door tight, and whirled around.

On the table sat a whole roast chicken, golden and fragrant.

His stomach roared.

He lunged at it, devouring it like a starved wolf.

After licking every bone clean, he buried the remains in the backyard.

If anyone found out he’d eaten chicken, they’d assume he stole it—and the beating would be worse than ever.

Full for the first time in days, he scanned the room.

No one in this household had ever shown him kindness.

Was it her again? That big sister?

Warmth bloomed in his chest.

Why wouldn’t she show herself?

He wanted to thank her properly.

Yuanxi settled into an inn near the Fu residence.

This kid’s life is miserable.

She wanted to take him away now—but it wasn’t time yet.

If a noble family’s child vanished overnight, it would mean official reports, searches.

She needed to spirit him away quietly, without drawing attention.

She had to wait for the right moment.

And soon enough, that moment would come.