Gao Yang took a deep, unsteady breath.
Though he had possessed this body and felt no true affection for the man who once lived in it, he still couldn't comprehend it.
To seek immortality—must one sever all bonds of kinship?
If becoming a cultivator meant discarding one's humanity, what meaning did this so-called Dao even hold?
He glanced around the temple grounds, confusion twisting in his gut. Was this truly a place of cultivation—or a domain of ghosts?
The man's desperate eyes pleaded with him until they dulled into silent begging. The little paper girl clutched his hand, unwilling to release it. The paper boy, with his solemn, godlike poise, stood watchfully by.
There was no way back now.
Gao Yang gritted his teeth and followed them into the temple.
A harsh creak echoed behind him. From the ancient locust tree by the gate, rats began to fall one after another, squealing sharply as they landed. They scurried up the wooden doors, pushing and gnawing until the gates of Azure Mountain Temple closed with a slow, dreadful thud.
Above, vultures descended in a storm of black feathers. Their claws tore through the air, snatching up the rats and ripping their flesh apart. The crunch of bones and the wet sound of tearing filled the silence.
Gao Yang turned in horror, witnessing the grisly scene. His breath grew ragged.
This place was wrong—so very wrong.
Inside, a narrow path coiled up the mountain. The girl walked ahead beside the boy, one on each side, their paper forms swaying gently in the mist. The air thickened with a sweet, unnatural scent. Lining both sides of the path were trees heavy with fruit—each fruit shaped like a sleeping infant's face, murmuring faint, dreamlike sounds.
He looked closer.
Each tree grew from a grave mound.
They walked for what felt like an eternity until the path ended at a sheer mountain wall. Beneath it yawned a dark, damp cave. To the right of the entrance stood a crooked stone stele, its surface etched with three jagged characters:
Azure Mountain Temple.
The two attendants halted. Their fragile forms fluttered, turning into drifting paper that fell into a pair of pale, jade-like hands.
Those hands belonged to the Immortal Mistress.
She threaded the two paper dolls onto a cord and hung them at her waist, where a dozen others dangled lifelessly.
Her cold eyes swept over Gao Yang. "Come in."
He focused on her right eye—it looked perfectly human now.
The air inside was damp and foul, thick with decay. Yet the Immortal Mistress walked calmly, unaffected, her voice soft and graceful.
"From today on, I am your master. You have twelve senior brothers and sisters. You'll meet them soon." She smiled faintly. "Tell me, Thirteen—don't you think Azure Mountain Temple is beautiful? More than you expected?"
Through Gao Yang's eyes, two worlds overlapped.
In his left eye, he saw a rotting goat corpse in the corner, the source of the stench. Rats and insects swarmed the floor. One ran across her foot—she calmly crushed it beneath her heel.
In his right eye, waterfalls cascaded down cliffs wreathed in mist. Elegant pavilions shimmered amid clouds. Where the corpse lay, a wounded celestial beast rested while birds circled around it, singing.
Two realities—one divine, one infernal—flickered over each other. Gao Yang's vision swam. Which was real?
Under her calm, expectant gaze, he forced a strained smile. "It's… beautiful."
She nodded with faint satisfaction, but her gaze shifted toward the beast, and her tone chilled. "Xiao Man!"
From the shadows, a frail girl of about ten stumbled forward, tripping and falling to her knees. "Immortal Mistress, forgive me! I—I don't know when it came in!"
The Mistress raised her hand. The birds around the beast shrieked and rushed toward the girl.
In Gao Yang's left eye, they were not birds but a swarm of rats and centipedes sinking their teeth into her flesh.
"Ahhh!" Xiao Man screamed, writhing on the ground. "Spare me, Immortal Mistress!"
Unable to watch, Gao Yang stepped forward. "M-Master, please… spare her."
A soft hum escaped the Mistress's throat. With a wave of her sleeve, the creatures scattered. Xiao Man, trembling and bleeding, bowed repeatedly. "Thank you, Immortal Mistress. Thank you, young Immortal."
"She will tend to your needs from now on," said the Mistress coldly. "You'll call him Thirteen."
"Yes, Mistress," Xiao Man whispered.
The Immortal turned to Gao Yang. "You are my thirteenth disciple. Forget your name, your past, your village. From this moment on, you are Thirteen. You have no ties to Chai Village."
He bowed deeply. "Yes, Master."
"Come," she said. "Meet your senior brothers and sisters."
They followed a narrow side path, turning right. After some distance, thirteen elegant pavilions appeared through the mist, glowing faintly in the half-light.
"These will be your quarters," said the Mistress. "You will live and cultivate here. Each morning at the seventh bell, come to me for three hours of instruction."
But through Gao Yang's left eye, the pavilions were nothing but damp, fetid caves.
He forced himself to believe the vision of beauty, masking the unease twisting in his chest.
Suddenly, the Mistress turned and gripped his chin. Her right eye twitched—something beneath the surface writhed. A pale, fleshy worm emerged, wriggling outward until it almost touched his own eye.
"Don't move," she hissed.
Terror froze him. His stomach churned violently.
After a breathless eternity, she released him. "It's fine now."
He touched his cheek; blood stained his fingertips. With a gentle brush of her hand, the wound vanished.
When Gao Yang looked up, twelve figures stood before him.
His senior brothers and sisters.
They were radiant—otherworldly—each surrounded by ethereal light.
"Welcome, Thirteenth Junior Brother!" one greeted warmly.
"Thirteenth Junior Brother's a bit ugly," another laughed.
"He just hasn't built his foundation yet," said a third. "He'll be handsome soon enough."
"Yes," another chimed, "we were all hideous once."
The Mistress smiled. "Thirteen, greet your seniors."
Gao Yang bowed respectfully. "Greetings, Senior Brothers and Sisters."
He tried to steady his expression—but his left eye betrayed him.
What he saw made his stomach lurch.
Each radiant immortal was a twisted monster. Some were hunched and shriveled, others covered in sores. One woman's face was half-decayed, and a plump maggot writhed in and out of her empty eye socket.
He couldn't hold it back—he vomited again.
The air grew cold.
"Thirteen is prone to sickness when he's upset," said the Mistress calmly. "No matter—I will cure him." Her tone turned commanding. "Care for him while I'm away. I shall return in three days to help him form his foundation."
With a graceful flick of her sleeve, she vanished into the mist.
Gao Yang wiped his mouth, forcing a weak smile. "Senior brothers, senior sisters…"
Their warmth vanished instantly. Faces hardened into disdain. Without a word, one by one, they turned and left.
Gao Yang stood alone beneath the swirling fog, the silence pressing down like a weight—colder than ever before.