Chapter 1: Returning to Youth

“Master, do immortals truly exist in this world?”

In the Hall of Serenity at the Purple Cloud Monastery, eight-year-old Li Ji'an raised his head, his clear eyes full of childlike innocence as he looked with anticipation at the presiding master, Liu Deshan.

After a moment,

“So much alike! Uncannily so! Just like my junior…” Li Ji'an received no answer, only the absent-minded murmur of Liu Deshan, lost in reminiscence.

A soft, nostalgic smile curled on Li Ji'an’s lips. He bowed slightly, choosing not to disturb this man who was once his senior and now his master.

“Blessings upon all beneath Heaven!” After a little while, Liu Deshan returned to himself, picked up the roster, and studied its details. His eyes, previously clouded, grew suddenly brighter.

“Your secular name is Li Ji'an?”

There was no need for Li Ji'an to reply; Liu Deshan’s heart pounded as he read the information before him. Three days earlier, while he was in seclusion, it was reported that a child had come, bearing a token from his junior, Master Chang'an, hoping to become his disciple. Though unable to meet the boy at first due to his retreat, he had not hesitated to order the child admitted to the Hall of Serenity, an exception to the usual rules.

Now, upon leaving seclusion, he summoned the child at once.

At first sight, he was stunned—

And now, he was almost certain—this must be his junior’s child!

“Hmph, you lectured me about twisted ideals, told me not to marry or have children—spoke of beauty as but bones, spoke of illusions, of living alone and free. And yet… Fortunately, I didn’t fall for your tricks.” For some inexplicable reason, Liu Deshan felt a rush of cheer, whether it was knowing his junior had an heir or simply relishing this chance to expose his junior’s hypocrisy. At this moment, Master Houde Liu Deshan seemed thirty years younger.

“Qingyun, come in.” In high spirits, Master Houde called toward the door.

“Disciple greets Master.” A plump young acolyte, about the same age as Li Ji'an, waddled in like a little ball, settling himself beside Li Ji'an on a meditation cushion.

“From this day forward, this is your junior. You must take good care of him, never bully him, but treat him as your own brother, dear as kin.” Liu Deshan admonished sternly.

“Huh?” The chubby boy had clearly never seen Liu Deshan so serious.

“Oh, by the way, you still need a priestly name… How about Chang'an?” Liu Deshan mused briefly, then smiled slyly—a rare expression for the usually solemn head of monastic education.

“Chang'an?” Such mischief from my senior…

“Thank you, Master, for granting me a name.” Li Ji'an bowed deeply.

“Chang'an, this is your senior brother Qingyun. Whatever your relationship with the other disciples, you must be as close as brothers to Qingyun, sharing joys and sorrows alike.” Liu Deshan repeated his instruction.

Li Ji'an lowered his head, tilting it slightly, and saw that Qingyun was looking at him in exactly the same way.

Three days ago, he had glimpsed this chubby boy from afar and already suspected; now, all doubt was gone.

The ancestral rules of Purple Cloud Monastery forbade marriage, but for over a hundred years, this rule was more nominal than real. The monastery had become a family temple, with knowledge and position passed from master to disciple, generation after generation, and few outsiders admitted. After a century, nearly all were of one line. From the abbot to the lowest disciple, most had a home in the nearby county town, just ten miles away.

However, their previous master, Master Shangshan of the Hall of Serenity, had been an exception—pure-hearted and solitary, he took only two disciples.

“Judging by this child’s age, my junior must have married before I even left the order. Hah.”

“All right, Qingyun, take your junior brother to get acquainted with the monastery and explain the rules to him.” Liu Deshan seemed to have urgent matters; he didn’t even answer the question every new disciple was supposed to ask, but hurriedly dismissed the boys, leaving the hall with a joyous face.

Though chubby, Qingyun was quick on his feet, leading Li Ji'an in a few steps to the corner of the side room outside the hall.

“Tell me the truth—are you Master’s son too?” Qingyun’s face flushed, and he seemed so aggrieved he might burst into tears at any moment.

…Just like my senior as a child—not the brightest.

Li Ji'an shook his head decisively.

“Really? Whew, you scared me! That’s good. Looks like my mom was fibbing—how could Dad have any other woman?”

Li Ji'an raised a brow—so even his senior had turned mischievous.

“Well then, from now on, stick with me—I’ll make sure nobody bullies you. Let me tell you a secret, but you can’t tell anyone else: my dad is—this!” The chubby boy beamed, giving a big thumbs up, utterly proud of having Liu Deshan as his father.

Good for him.

Seeing this child so proud of his father, Li Ji'an truly felt happy for Liu Deshan.

To be the pride of one’s own child—my senior should be content as a father.

“Junior brother, this is the Jade Emperor Hall—the abbot’s domain. The abbot is fierce and stingy; best stay away. Over here is the Dharma Hall. Whenever they go into town for rituals, there’s always plenty of good food…”

The Purple Cloud Monastery was small, without the strict, hierarchical ranks of the great temples—no “three capitals, five masters, eighteen heads.” There was just one abbot, five hall masters, and all the disciples and acolytes together barely numbered a hundred.

Returning to this familiar place felt as if it were only yesterday.

“Unknowingly, it’s been fifty-four years…”

Fifty-four years ago, Li Ji'an awakened the memories of a past life—he had already been in this world for eight years, born as an infant, and now eight years old.

The Celestial Dynasty—a feudal empire unlike any he had ever known.

The sufferings of commoners in a feudal society need no elaboration.

But when his memories returned, Li Ji'an did not wallow in self-pity. On the contrary, he was confident, undaunted even by the absence of any supernatural advantage. With the insight of a dedicated reader of twenty years, he knew this kind of ancient imperial setting inside and out.

At first, he planned to speed through it.

But he was forced to swallow ashes, magical talismans, and even weasel’s blood…

It was only after he realized the existence of martial artists that he understood—this was a low-magic, cultivation story.

Suffering, hardship, and even humiliation at the start were necessary.

He endured until both his parents died, and his fiancée broke off their engagement. He knew then—he had accumulated enough setbacks; it was time to make his mark.

With no regard for the family’s legacy, he sold every last acre of good land his ancestors had left him, took the money, and, full of ambition, went to the martial arts school in town.

Yet, after a year, he still couldn’t get through the basics.

Raised as a peasant, always hovering around the poverty line, his body was frail, and he couldn’t afford the best medicinal baths or supplements. Besides, the local school was mediocre at best.

As his money ran out, still unable to break through, he pushed himself harder, only to injure his lungs—coughing and wheezing, he became a hopeless invalid.

Unable to survive in town, he slunk back to his mountain village, beaten and destitute.

Luckily, no one wanted the old mud-brick house, so at least he had shelter.

He ended up working as a tenant farmer, never knowing where his next meal would come from, hope fading with each passing day.

He drifted through life, listless and despondent, waiting for a hope he doubted would ever come… Until, at thirty, on the edge of despair, he awoke one morning to find all his ailments miraculously gone. His worn, sickly body had returned to the state it was in when he first regained his past memories—eight years old again!

Yet time itself had not shifted.

Afraid he’d be taken for a demon, he barely had time to rejoice over his belated “golden finger” before fleeing the village.

Travel was difficult in ancient times, and population movement heavily restricted. In the end, he could only make his way back to the county town, searching for a new start.

But before he could even figure out his newfound ability, he was captured by human traffickers and mutilated.

Recalling this, Li Ji'an felt a sharp pang in his heart, his face turning deathly pale.

Even though twenty-seven years had passed, and even though he had been restored to youth a second time, with all physical scars erased, the five years he spent in that hell still haunted his dreams.

Fortunately, at thirteen, already with a deformed arm and a festering wound that would never heal on his back, he met Master Shangshan of the Hall of Serenity, just ten miles from the Purple Cloud Monastery.

At that moment, Qingyun glanced back and saw the terror on Li Ji'an’s face.

“Don’t be afraid, junior brother. I’m here.” Clumsily, he stepped in front of Li Ji'an, pointing at the statue inside the hall. “It’s fake, all fake—just clay.”

Drawn from his reverie, Li Ji'an’s face softened into a gentle, affectionate smile at the sight of Qingyun shielding him.

After that, Qingyun no longer took Li Ji'an on a tour of the monastery, but led him straight back to the Hall of Serenity.

Yet, just as they reached the dormitory outside the hall, Qingyun suddenly stopped. A group of senior disciples was waiting at the door, among them a brother from the Hall of Discipline.

“Oh no! Have they found out I spit into the Hall Master’s rice?” Qingyun shuddered and instinctively hid behind Li Ji'an.

A clamor arose—

The group surged forward, faces flushed with urgency, a far cry from their usual serene demeanor.

“I was wrong! I’ll never do it again!” Qingyun, on the verge of tears, staggered back and fell to the ground, covering his head and begging for mercy.

But after a moment, no reprimand came. No one pulled him up. Peeking through his fingers in confusion, Qingyun saw that everyone was crowding around Li Ji'an.

“They’re not after me?” He breathed a sigh of relief.

“But they’re bullying my junior brother!” His anger flared. “I’ll go get my dad.” But he didn’t dare confront the fierce brothers from the Discipline Hall himself.

Before he could sneak away, he saw the entire group kneel or squat down around Li Ji'an.

Their faces softened, replacing urgency with compassion and tenderness.

He even saw that fearsome brother from the Discipline Hall gently stroke Li Ji'an’s head, eyes glistening with tears.

“So alike… Uncannily so…”

“Junior brother… Is your name Li Ji'an?”

“Are you the nephew of… No, I mean, is Master Chang'an your…”

“Don’t ask what you shouldn’t!”

“How is Master… these days?”

…

Li Ji'an gazed at these children, now grown, and smiled in satisfaction.

Because he had once been caught in the rain, and someone had handed him an umbrella, he was all the more willing to hold an umbrella for others in the storm.

Twenty-seven years ago, after five years in hell, he was brought back here by Master Shangshan. He was thirteen then.

After that ordeal, this place became his true paradise. He settled down, and threw himself into the life of the monastery. The ambition of a traveler from another world was softened by his master’s kindness.

Drawing on knowledge from his past life, he improved the special effects in the Dharma Hall—phosphorus flames, smoke, and even tricks like catching ghosts barehanded from boiling oil, conjuring objects from thin air, or spitting real fire. He orchestrated marvels like “letters hidden in fish bellies,” “auspicious signs at Purple Cloud,” and “the white jade turtle,” turning the once obscure temple into the darling of county officials and nobles, greatly increasing its income.

On this foundation, the abbot allowed him to create a charitable hall within the monastery, to shelter those born to suffering and powerless to resist their fate.

By age thirty, every one of the eighteen children in the charity hall had been rescued by his own hands.

A decade passed…

Now, the eldest of those children was over twenty, and had become the head disciplinarian of the Hall of Discipline.

Moments later, the group of priests respectfully bowed three times in the direction Li Ji'an indicated.

“Junior brother, if you ever need anything, come to us.”

“No one in this monastery can bully you.”

“We’re all true brothers from now on…”

…

“My junior brother… he’s really that amazing? Why?” Qingyun stared, dumbfounded, not realizing that Master Houde had quietly appeared beside him.

“Because his father is—this!” Master Houde gave a big thumbs up.

“Dad—oh, I mean, Master, are you saying… his father is even more… this, than you?” Qingyun looked at Li Ji'an with awe and envy.