Chapter Eleven: The Path of Destiny

Seeing Leng Bingtong’s sorrowful and desolate expression, with tears shimmering in her eyes, Yan Tian’s heart overflowed with tenderness. He gently supported her soft, fragrant shoulder and drew her close, resting her head against his chest. He stroked her back softly and spoke in a gentle voice, “There, there, don’t cry. Brother cares for you. Brother will buy you some candy…”

“All right, I won’t tease you anymore!” Yan Tian’s smile faded as he gazed at Leng Bingtong with deep affection. “Do you mind telling me your story?”

Leng Bingtong’s teeth itched with resentment, but somehow, she found herself unable—or rather unwilling—to expose Yan Tian’s true nature face to face.

Taking a deep breath, she said, “Guess how old I am this year.”

Yan Tian replied tenderly, “No matter how old you are, in my eyes, you will always be in the bloom of youth.”

“Please, be serious for once.”

“I have always been serious, truly,” Yan Tian swore earnestly. “I vow by my life that even if your hair turns white and your beauty fades, you will forever remain the most radiant moment of youth in my eyes.”

“Forget it, I’m too tired to argue with you.” Leng Bingtong rolled her eyes, utterly defeated by him. “I’ll tell you—I’m already over three hundred years old.”

“Oh, over three hundred years? That’s quite a long life…” Yan Tian casually remarked, then suddenly his expression changed to one of anxiety. “What did you say? You… you’re over three hundred years old? Damn, are you a monster?”

Leng Bingtong shook her head sadly. “I don’t even know what I really am. Monster, huh? Well, more than three hundred years ago, I was indeed a teenage girl. But if I’m human, then who could live this long? Who else can survive drowning, fire, or sword wounds? Even bullets, electric shocks, and explosions cannot kill me…”

“How can that be?” Yan Tian blurted out. “That’s impossible! Not even an artificial god could do that, right?”

Leng Bingtong stared out the kitchen window, her gaze seeming to pierce through time itself.

After a long silence, she began to tell her story in a low voice: “More than three hundred years ago, I was the daughter of a wealthy family. One day, I fell ill with a rare disease—what modern medicine calls leukemia—that no doctor back then could diagnose, let alone cure. My parents spent nearly all their wealth seeking the world’s finest doctors and rarest medicines, but nothing helped… You know, even today, leukemia is hard to cure.

“When all hope was lost, a mysterious traveler came to our city. He wasn’t a doctor but claimed he could heal me.

“My parents were like drowning people clutching at straws. Since this stranger promised a cure, they didn’t hesitate to beg him to help me.

“Before treating me, he said he would accept no payment. Back then, we thought perhaps he lacked confidence and felt awkward asking for money. But later, I realized the real reason was that he didn’t need anything; whatever he desired, he could easily obtain.

“Before starting treatment, he solemnly asked if I was prepared. He told me that birth, aging, sickness, and death are natural laws, the balance of life and death. If I tried to defy heaven’s will, I would suffer eternal punishment.

“At that time, I cared for none of that. Survival was my only thought. I had no objection and would never refuse this last hope.

“The stranger concocted a potion whose ingredients I will never know. I drank three bowls daily and soaked in the potion for four hours every day. This continued for three months. During that time, he also infused me with his internal Qi for one hour each day.

“Of course, he didn’t give me his Qi permanently but circulated it within my body for an hour before reclaiming it. It was only much later that I learned his Qi altered my constitution, freezing my body’s time at the age of seventeen.

“After three months of medicine, soaking, and Qi infusion, I miraculously recovered. I felt no more symptoms and even discovered I had immense strength—arms capable of lifting ten thousand pounds. Of course, I told no one this secret; I didn’t want to be seen as a monster.

“The stranger vanished quietly after my cure. When my family tried to thank him, we didn’t know where he had gone.

“I once thought I was lucky, but only later did I understand that he hadn’t lied. While saving my life, I had accepted heaven’s eternal punishment.

“The year after I recovered, I married. My husband was the top scholar in the imperial exams and a minister appointed by the emperor. He loved me dearly. He once promised to grow old with me, to share the joy of family with many children when our hair turned white.

“Years passed. My parents died one after another, and my husband rose to become prime minister, respected by all. But by then, his hair was white, and he was in his twilight years. As for me… I remained seventeen in appearance. He still loved and cherished me. Though I never bore him a child, he never blamed me or took a concubine to continue his lineage.

“He died at seventy-four, holding me and smiling, calling me ‘little girl.’ He told me I was a blessing from heaven, but heaven was fair—giving him an ageless wife, it would not grant him descendants.

“After his death, I was devastated. At his burial, I even sneaked into his coffin, intending to follow him in death. But I was wrong. Watching his body decay into dust, I realized I was not only ageless but immortal.

“I left the tomb and tried every method at his grave to kill myself. I was utterly alone in this world—no family, no kin. My parents were gone; my love was gone. What meaning was left for me? But no matter how hard I tried, I could not die… Not even the cruelest water or fire could end my life.

“Only then did I understand what the stranger had warned me. He told me the potion he used was a rare concoction meant for creating immortal warriors from corpses. Normally, it could only be used on the dead, but combined with his ‘Path of Fate’ Qi, it could be applied to the living. He hadn’t lied—I truly was an immortal warrior. Heaven’s eternal punishment was eternal loneliness and solitude.

“Since then, I have wandered the world alone, coldly watching the vicissitudes of time and the rise and fall of dynasties. I am a being cast aside by time. I dare not grow close to anyone nor seek love because I cannot bear the pain of watching friends and lovers consumed by time. I cannot find another like me to share eternity with…”

“You can never imagine such loneliness…”

At this, tears streamed down Leng Bingtong’s face.

Yan Tian was stunned—not only by her incredible story but also because it echoed the description of a rare martial art recorded in the Fallen Jade artifact.

That art was the “Path of Fate.” The jade recorded that the “Path of Fate” was a secret technique of Yan Tian’s ancestor and closest comrade, Yun Tianshou. The highest mastery of the “Path of Fate” could accelerate an enemy’s bodily time flow, causing them to age and wither into dust instantly. When applied to oneself, it could lock one’s time flow, granting immortality and eternal youth.

Yan Tian initially dismissed such claims as nonsense. What martial art could truly do that? If it were real, it would be a myth, not a martial art.

But now, hearing Leng Bingtong mention the “Path of Fate,” and seeing no reason for her to lie, he realized she must have indeed undergone its influence.

As for the immortal warrior, the jade also recorded them as war machines crafted by Yan Tian’s ancestor during his campaigns. These immortal warriors were made from the corpses of great masters and animated by techniques detailed in the “True Dragon Treasure Mirror.” They were tireless, immune to pain, incredibly strong, absolutely loyal, and could not die unless shattered to pieces.

Later, because creating immortal warriors was deemed unethical, Yan Tian’s ancestor ceased their manufacture, and the “True Dragon Treasure Mirror” was destroyed, with no record left in the jade.

Contemplating this, Yan Tian wondered: Could Leng Bingtong be connected to his ancestors? He asked, “Officer Leng, what was the name of the stranger who saved you?”

Leng Bingtong shook her head, wiping tears gently from her cheeks. “I don’t know. He only said his surname was Yun.”

His surname was Yun!