Unintended Immortality

Hansu—the name itself meant “snowflakes.”

Hansu County was adjacent to the Snowy Plains, not far from the northern border of Yanzhou. In winter, the temperatures were bitterly cold, and it frequently snowed.

Master Yidu followed an official minor official along the streets of Hansu County. He glanced around as they walked—almost every household had its doors tightly shut, and there wasn’t a single person to be seen on the streets. Even behind those closed doors, most homes were eerily silent, devoid of any signs of life.

This plague had emptied countless households.

Now, in the depths of the winter in twelfth lunar month, even during peaceful times, there would still be people who froze to death. But in this year of disaster, compounded by war, demons, drought, and now plague...

How much suffering could the world hold?

Master Yidu thought of the ascetic monks he had encountered during his travels or when he was seeking lodging in temples. He shook his head slightly and continued walking. Ahead, the minor official chatted with him as they walked.

He spoke of the population of Hansu County, how many had fallen ill, how many had died, which county officials had fled, which had stayed to fight the plague, and what measures had been taken.

The minor official’s surname was Jin, and he didn’t hold any significant position in the county office. His mother and brother were also in the quarantine ward, so he was eager to share information about the situation inside and held great respect for people like Master Yidu.

If there were any remaining officials in charge within the city, they wouldn’t allow people to wander freely, and checks at the gates would be more efficient. Hansu County followed this practice as well.

However, they had entered through the south gate, while the quarantine ward was located at the north gate.

The Daoist they had met the previous night was clearly visiting this place for the first time, yet the local officials seemed to hold him in great esteem. It was unclear why, but Master Yidu was fortunate to benefit from the Daoist’s reputation—the gate guards had not only allowed him to enter the city promptly but also didn’t require him to go around to the north gate from outside the walls.

Instead, they permitted him to pass directly through the city and even assigned a minor official to guide him. This was certainly good news.

Once inside the city, however, he and the Daoist parted ways. The Daoist mentioned that he would be visiting the local temple to meet the Land God, though he didn’t specify why. Master Yidu, on the other hand, headed directly to the quarantine ward.

During his travels through Gui Commandery, Master Yidu had encountered many fellow travelers—Daoists, monks, wandering heroes, and itinerant doctors. Each had their own skills and methods. They often gathered together briefly before going their separate ways.

Some, unfortunately, contracted the illness and passed away. In these troubled times, life was as fleeting as foam on the water, as fragile as a candle in the wind. Such occurrences were common, and Master Yidu paid them no special heed.

“We’ve arrived,” the minor official said, stopping in front of the ward.

“Thank you, Benefactor Jin.”

“My brother just entered here yesterday. His condition is mild, and he looks quite similar to me. If you happen to see him, please give him my regards,” the minor official requested. “He used to work in the county office as well. If you need assistance inside, you can look for him first.”

“I certainly will,” Master Yidu assured him.

Master Yidu understood that the minor official was essentially asking him to look out for his brother, but he still smiled and agreed.

Only then did the minor official leave with a sense of relief.

Master Yidu stepped over a pile of debris.

Cough, cough…

Before he had even entered, the sound of coughing filled his ears.

The so-called quarantine ward was merely a sectioned-off area within the city where those afflicted with the plague were confined, separated from the healthy population. In reality, most quarantine wards did not provide treatment—unless there were doctors who were themselves infected or particularly compassionate and chose to enter voluntarily. ŗαΝ∅𝖇Ëꞩ

Every day, at designated times, those with milder symptoms or designated workers would carry out the bodies of the deceased, and others would handle the cremation or burial.

In essence, it was simply a place where the sick were left to await death. Yet it was a measure born of necessity.

As a monk with protective cultivation skills, Master Yidu would not be harmed by the plague, but he had no cure for it either.

He relied solely on two spells.

The first was the Mantra of Deliverance from Suffering, a Buddhist incantation he had learned from his master at Shengde Temple. It had no other use except to help alleviate the pain of those afflicted.

Master Yidu was well-versed in this technique. When he performed the Mantra of Deliverance from Suffering with sincerity, even those stricken with the agonizing Nine-Day Plague could find relief—free of pain and illness.

As long as the afflicted person’s body had not yet wasted away, they could still walk; as long as their throat wasn’t completely destroyed, they could still speak freely. It not only alleviated their suffering but also preserved their dignity.

The second technique was the Disaster-Relief Incantation, which he had learned from the abbot during his stay at Tianhai Temple.

The Disaster-Relief Incantation was originally intended to treat illnesses, but it could only handle minor colds and common ailments. The Nine-Day Plague was far too potent and complex for this spell to cure; it could only slow the progression of the disease, giving the patient a few extra days to fight.

The first spell was easy to perform and could help a hundred people in a day. The second spell was difficult and could only be used on one person per day.

However, both his spiritual power and energy were limited. If there were only a few patients, it would be manageable, but with larger numbers, he was forced to make difficult choices.

Having traveled through Gui Commandery for a long time, he knew that no matter what he did, he could not cure this Demonic Plague. Extending a patient’s life by a few extra days wasn’t entirely meaningless, but it was ultimately better to ease the suffering of as many people as possible.

For this reason, it had been a long time since he last performed the Disaster-Relief Incantation.

When he recited it again today, he found himself a bit rusty.

Yes—

If he hadn’t heard that Doctor Cai had found a cure for the Demonic Plague, it would have been different. But now that he knew, it meant that the people of Hansu County could be saved. Both the Mantra of Deliverance from Suffering and the Disaster-Relief Incantation needed to be recited.

Slowing the progress of the plague in just one patient might save a life. Even though he understood that spreading the doctor’s treatment, especially to the impoverished people, would be extremely difficult, there was a glimmer of hope at last.

Thus, the sound of chanting filled the quarantine ward.

Word spread among the patients, who began to gather around the monk on their own. Some sat; others lay down, listening to the chanting as they drifted into sleep.

The sounds of coughing became noticeably less frequent, and continued to diminish.

Since the outbreak of the plague, the nights at the north gate had never been this quiet. Only the howling of the north wind and the monk’s chanting persisted into the deep hours of the night.

Cough...

The monk’s face showed even more signs of exhaustion, and his lips were cracked and dry. Yet he did not stop chanting, continuing until his spiritual energy was utterly drained.

It wasn’t until the fifth watch, just before dawn, that he finally paused to rest.

Almost as soon as he closed his eyes, a divine being entered his dream.

In his dream, he saw a hunched old woman, not even as tall as a person’s knee. It wasn’t that she was simply short—she was small in stature, though her proportions were the same as those of any other elderly lady.

The old woman introduced herself as the local Land God of Hansu. She came to his dream not for any other reason but to convey a message to the people: At dawn the next day, around 9 to 11 a.m., there would be a great rain from the heavens.

Those who were not yet infected could bathe in the rain to prevent the plague, and those already ill would experience some relief, possibly gaining one or two more days of life.

The next morning—

A middle-aged man, who looked remarkably similar to the minor official who had guided them the previous day, was seen running around the area. He was spreading the word about the divine message from the dream, worried that people might not take it seriously or might not even know what time it would take place.

Thanks to his efforts, everyone who was able to move, whether sick or healthy, came outside to wait. Even those gravely ill and unable to walk were carried out by others to open spaces.

The monk, though uncertain, looked up at the sky.

It wasn’t a sunny day, but the sky was a pale, leaden white with only a few light gray streaks. There were no dark clouds—how could there be any rain?

Moreover, it was the middle of winter. If precipitation were to fall, it should be snow, not rain.

Recalling the minor official’s request from the previous night, the monk took the opportunity to call out to the middle-aged man as he passed by once again, “Benefactor.”

“Hm?” The man immediately stopped, his bloodshot eyes gazing at the monk as he bowed respectfully. “Master, why have you called me?”

“Benefactor, is your surname Jin?” the monk asked.

“How did you know?” the middle-aged man responded, surprised.

“Your younger brother asked me to give you his regards,” the monk said.

“Er Jin…” The man was momentarily stunned, then hurriedly asked, “How is Er Jin? Is he still handling the duties at the quarantine ward?”

“When I entered, your brother was stationed at the city gate.”

“That’s good to hear,” the man sighed with relief, clearly reassured now that his brother was no longer in the dangerous quarantine area.

“You have a deep bond with your brother,” Master Yidu remarked, before asking, “Last night, I too dreamed of a divine being. Did everyone have the same dream?”

“Yes, Master,” the man replied. “I asked around, and everyone had the same dream. Moreover, I frequently visit the Snow Temple in the city, and I’ve seen the Land God there before—she looked exactly the same as in the dream.”

“I see.”

“Is there anything else, Master?” the man asked.

“There is one more thing…”

Master Yidu cleared his throat and humbly asked for assistance, “I am here reciting sutras to ease the pain of the afflicted. I can help dozens of people each day. Might I trouble you, Benefactor Jin, to bring over the patients who are farther away and suffering the most severely?”

The middle-aged man agreed without hesitation and hurried off. By now, the open-air area of the quarantine ward was crowded with patients.

Master Yidu couldn’t help but look up at the sky once more.

If the divine being truly intended to manifest, why wait until today?

Yet, in the brief moment they had exchanged words, the sky above had changed—clouds had gathered, dark and heavy, forming a small patch directly over Hansu.

Judging by the time, it was approaching 9 a.m.. And just as 9 a.m. arrived, a gentle rain began to fall.

This rain was miraculous. It landed on the body without feeling cold—only a slight coolness at most. For those afflicted with the plague, it even relieved the excruciating headache they suffered. The rain fell silently to the ground, soaking in without a trace. It couldn’t wet their clothes, instead seeping directly into their bodies.

The entire city was astounded, convinced they had witnessed divine intervention.

“Land God… Land God…” Master Yidu murmured these words to himself as he looked up, letting the rain wash over him. Suddenly, a smile broke across his face.

“Heh…” How could this be the work of the gods? It was the work of a fellow traveler.

The smile on the monk’s face grew wider.

Though he had encountered many kindred spirits during his journey through Gui Commandery, he couldn’t help but feel deeply moved once again.

Lowering his gaze, he looked at the people around him. Having already exhausted his spiritual energy, the monk could do nothing more.

He closed his eyes and bowed his head, silently praying in his heart, “Buddha above, my cultivation is shallow, and my power is meager. Yet, seeing the suffering of the people of Gui Commandery, my heart cannot bear it. I have depleted all my strength, which is but a drop in the ocean.

“If the Buddha can hear my plea, please show great compassion and lend me a fraction of your boundless power. I am willing to exchange a portion of my lifespan in return.”

The fine drizzle continued to drift gently down.

Miraculously, it seemed as if the Buddha had truly heard his prayer. When Master Yidu opened his eyes again, the spiritual energy he had drained was almost entirely restored.

“Amitabha…”

The monk closed his eyes once more and began chanting the Buddhist mantra.

***

At noon…

Song You arrived at the quarantine ward with Lady Calico and the swordsman, where they saw countless people waiting for death, as well as a chubby monk surrounded by the crowd, chanting Buddhist sutras like a living Bodhisattva.@@novelbin@@

They had encountered many plague-stricken people during their journey, yet each time they saw such suffering, their hearts still ached with compassion.

The chubby monk was using his spells to relieve the pain of the afflicted—helping dozens of people each day. He also used a powerful incantation to slow the progression of the disease, though it could only be performed for one person per day.

The toll on him was immense; when his spiritual energy ran out, he began to draw from his very essence. Yet there were thousands in this quarantine ward alone. At this rate, how many lifetimes would it cost him?

As he had said before, “Don’t underestimate the faint glow of a firefly; it still harbors the ambition to light up the night.”

His heart burned with a fervor that seemed tireless.

When the monk paused for a moment, Song You asked him about his actions. The monk simply replied, “This world does not consist of a single universe with countless beings. Rather, in the eyes of each of those countless people, there is an entire universe. To save one person is not merely to save a single life; it is to save the entire world as that person sees it.”

An intriguing way of thinking. And quite an intriguing man.

Song You enjoyed conversing and spending time with people like this monk. He appreciated seeing the world through their eyes.

Originally, he had come to bid farewell before heading to the Snowy Plains. However, after speaking with the monk and being influenced by his perspective, Song You decided to stay a few more days, joining him in extending the lives of the patients in Hansu County.

Any surplus spiritual energy was still condensed into pills, which he entrusted to the local Land God to deliver to the villages of Hansu County.

The Land God herself was rather pitiable.

Hansu County bordered the Snowy Plains, home to a great demon king who disregarded even the Heavenly Court and could not be vanquished by the legitimate gods of the Thunder Division. For a deity like her, maintaining her power was already a struggle. The plague had decimated the population of Hansu, leaving less than thirty percent of the people alive.

Even those who survived had little thought of worshiping the gods, and if they did, it was no longer directed toward her. With her worship cut off, she was on the verge of fading away, and her divine form was now barely larger than Lady Calico’s cat form.

Though the Land God had no notable achievements, it wasn’t due to a lack of will—she simply lacked the power. In the end, she was still far better than the official gods of the Heavenly Court.

So, he decided to help her gather some incense offerings.

Thus, the Daoist, the cat, and the swordsman all stayed at the quarantine ward, not leaving for the entire day. Influenced by Song You’s actions, the remaining officials and wealthy families of the county began to show more care for the quarantine ward. The food provided each day improved.

Upon hearing that a skilled cultivator was treating patients there, able to alleviate pain and slow the disease, some wealthy people and officials even brought their own sick family members to the ward for care.

The situation for the people in the quarantine ward improved considerably.

The middle-aged man surnamed Jin, who had previously worked as a minor official at the Hansu County office, proved to be quite resourceful. In the early days of the Nine-Day Plague, the symptoms were not too painful. The monk’s Mantra of Deliverance from Suffering was more effective when used on the severely ill, so Jin coordinated with several mildly ill individuals to bring over the most critical patients each day, assisting in every way he could.

They were all just waiting for true hope to arrive.

However, Doctor Cai’s treatment was far more than just a simple prescription. Besides the internal and external herbal remedies, it also required acupuncture and fumigation therapy to fully eradicate the illness. This demanded not only medical supplies but also personnel.

Though Gui Commandery was just a single commandery and not particularly remote, it would take time for the doctor’s methods to be disseminated throughout the entire commandery via the commandery seat. The report had to reach the governor, and the resources of Hezhou would need to be mobilized to support Gui Commandery.

However, Hezhou was already exhausted and might not have the capacity to provide sufficient manpower and supplies to save the entire county. It might even be necessary to appeal to the imperial court in Changjing, Angzhou. Who knew how long that would take?

Hope was finally here, but it wouldn’t be easy to wait for it to materialize.