In the northern reaches of the Kingdom of Dongsheng, mountain ranges stretched endlessly.

Among them stood a colossal peak that pierced the clouds like a giant sword thrust into the heavens—hence its name, the Cloud-Sword Mountains.

Along the winding mountain path, two figures trudged forward, one young and one old. The youth leading the way was strikingly handsome, yet his prematurely graying hair and sickly pallor made him look like a walking ghost.

After only a few steps, the boy suddenly clutched his chest, his face contorted in pain as he doubled over in a fit of coughing. His pale, refined features flushed crimson with the strain.

"Young master, let's rest for a while?"

The old man hurried to his side, patting his back with a pained expression.

*Hack—ptui!*

Jiang Xiaobai coughed violently before spitting out a mouthful of blood-streaked phlegm.

Gazing up at the snow-capped peaks stretching endlessly into the distance, his eyes burned red with frustration.

Other transmigrators got to live the high life—feasting on fine wine and meat, with beauties draped over their arms.

And him?

Thirteen years in this world. Thirteen years of sickness.

Bedridden for so long he couldn’t even muster the damn strength to jerk off.

Moreover, despite being in the prime of his youth, half his hair had already turned white.

Was this premature aging?

*"Cloud-wrapped peaks hide secrets untold,

None dare tread the misty expanse so bold.

Jagged cliffs crowned with eternal snow,

Jade-like streams that ceaselessly flow...

Damn it all, damn it all!"*

Bitterly, Jiang Xiaobai raised his head and couldn't help but roar these lines, his voice cracking with suppressed sobs toward the end.

"Young master, please take care of yourself. No more poetry!" The elderly servant behind him wore a pained expression. "Once we obtain the elixir, your illness will surely be cured!"

"It's been a month," Jiang Xiaobai muttered, lifting his gaze to the towering mountains, his frustration growing more palpable. "A whole month, and not a single soul in sight. Immortals... do they even exist in this world?"

"Of course they do!" The old man opened his mouth as if to argue but finally just insisted, "They *must* exist!"

Sighing, Jiang Xiaobai glanced at the old man before trudging onward up the mountain path, bracing against the biting wind.

The servant watched his young master's lonely, weary figure with aching heart and followed silently behind.

Half an hour later...

Exhausted from walking, Jiang Xiaobai plopped down on a large rock, watching as the old man skillfully built a fire and began roasting the stale flatbread. He couldn't help but complain, "Grandpa Song, this bread's been around for a month! How come it hasn't gone bad yet?"

"Young master, the cold preserves it," Song Fengquan explained patiently, his breath forming little clouds in the frigid air. "Frozen solid as a rock—won't spoil anytime soon." He continued tending to the bread over the flames, occasionally sprinkling fresh snow on top to soften it. The snowflakes hissed and sizzled as they met the fire.

Jiang Xiaobai remained silent, absently rubbing the warm jade piece between his fingers for comfort.

After a while, Song Fengquan handed him a freshly warmed piece of bread. "Here you go, young master."

Jiang accepted it with numb fingers, took a reluctant bite, and forced himself to swallow the dry mouthful. His gaze drifted toward the endless snow-capped mountains stretching before them. With a bitter smile, he recited, "A thousand miles of autumn grief, a wanderer's plight; A hundred years of illness, climbing alone this height."

He sighed heavily. "Why must my path be so fraught with hardship?"

"Once we obtain the elixir, everything will be better, young master," Song Fengquan encouraged between bites of his own bread, looking at Jiang with undisguised admiration. "Especially for someone as talented as you. After your recovery, you'll surely pass the imperial exams with honors and bring glory to your ancestors!"

"Ah, if only I weren't plagued by this illness," Jiang murmured, his face twisting with bitterness. "I could spend my days composing poetry, enjoying life's pleasures, with beauties in my arms—not that I'd need a whole harem or anything..."

His words were abruptly cut short as a sharp pain lanced through his chest, sending him into another violent coughing fit.

Song Fengquan immediately stood up and gently patted Jiang Xiaobai on the back.

"Ah, Grandpa Song!"

Gasping for breath, Jiang Xiaobai asked, "Do you think... I might die here?"

"Not a chance!"

Though his heart weighed heavy at the sight of the blood Jiang Xiaobai had coughed onto the ground, Song Fengquan shook his head firmly. "We will get that elixir—no doubt about it!"

"Yeah, we definitely will!"

Wiping the blood from his lips, Jiang Xiaobai took another bite of the cold flatbread.

After finishing one, he raised his hand with a hint of forced nonchalance. "Alright, hand me another one!"

"Sure!"

Seeing Jiang Xiaobai’s appetite return, Song Fengquan felt a flicker of relief and passed him a freshly baked piece.

But just then, his pupils constricted. His gaze locked onto something behind Jiang Xiaobai, and his voice came out in a strained whisper. "Young master... don’t move."

"Huh?"

Confusion flashed across Jiang Xiaobai’s face as he stole a glance over his shoulder.

What he saw made his blood run cold.

He couldn’t make out the details—only a massive shadow creeping steadily toward him.

Gulp!

Jiang Xiaobai swallowed hard, beads of cold sweat trickling down his forehead.

As the shadow drew nearer, Song Fengquan's expression grew increasingly grave.

Suddenly, his voice cut through the air like a whip: "Young master, get down!"

Without a second thought, Jiang Xiaobai threw himself flat onto the snow-covered ground.

ROAR!

A deafening bellow shook the air as Song Fengquan lashed out with a powerful punch.

THUD!

A dull impact echoed, and Song Fengquan's body was sent flying backward.

Witnessing this, Jiang Xiaobai's heart clenched with dread.

He knew exactly how skilled Song Fengquan was—even five burly men attacking at once couldn’t so much as scratch him.

Yet this sudden monstrosity had just sent the old man flying!

After tumbling twice across the ground, Song Fengquan lifted his head, his face drained of color. "It's... it's a demon..."

Jiang Xiaobai finally dared to look up.

Before him stood a savage beast, its entire body cloaked in snow-white fur.

A pair of sapphire-blue eyes, a single horn protruding from its forehead, and breath so frigid it could freeze the very air.

When those eyes locked onto him, Jiang Xiaobai felt as though he'd been plunged into an icy abyss.

*Crack!*

The warm jade in his hand split with a sharp fissure.

*ROAR!*

The demonic beast bellowed again, its razor-sharp claws swiping at him.

Utterly defenseless, Jiang Xiaobai was sent flying, crashing onto the snow-covered ground, his blood staining the pristine white.

The bone-deep pain forced ragged gasps from his lungs as he lifted his head, watching the beast charge toward him once more. A bitter laugh escaped his lips. *"To die before even proving myself? Just my damn luck!"*

As the beast's gaping maw loomed over him, he could only squeeze his eyes shut, his face deathly pale.

He feared death—yet in that moment, he also welcomed it.

At least this torment would finally end.

Several breaths later.

*Drip.*

*Drip.*

Something warm splashed onto Jiang Xiaobai's face, trickling into his mouth.

Is this... blood?

He forced his eyes open again.

The massive white beast stood motionless before him. The blood was dripping from its head—or rather, from the gleaming sword impaled straight through its skull.

Where did this sword come from?

Jiang Xiaobai scanned his surroundings, but there wasn't a soul in sight.

Just as confusion gripped him, a delicate fragrance wafted through the air. His gaze lifted, and his breath caught in his throat.

Descending gracefully from the heavens was a vision of ethereal beauty. A woman clad in flowing white robes floated down like a petal on the breeze. Her eyes held the chill of winter, her figure slender yet curvaceous, every movement radiating an otherworldly grace. Her features were so exquisite they seemed carved from jade, breathtaking enough to shame the lotus blossoms themselves.

"Beauty that eclipses all, past and present..." Jiang Xiaobai's lips moved weakly, his voice fading to a whisper only he could hear. "So... so there really are... immortals in this world..."

"Young master..."

Song Fengquan rushed forward as he saw Jiang Xiaobai collapse unconscious.

Just as Jiang Xiaobai was about to hit the ground, Song caught him in his arms. His eyes reddened at the sight of the bloody wounds riddling Jiang’s body, his hands trembling uncontrollably.

But then, as if struck by a sudden thought, he lifted his head toward the ethereally beautiful woman and dropped to his knees, kowtowing desperately. "Immortal One, I beg you—save my young master!"

He had seen it clearly.

The flying sword had arrived first—only then did its wielder follow. The delay between the two had spanned several breaths.

As a practitioner of internal martial arts, he knew no such miraculous techniques existed in their world. Only the legendary immortals could wield such power.

The stunning woman remained silent, her gaze fixed on the prostrate Song Fengquan.

Just then, another figure streaked across the sky, landing a short distance away.

This newcomer was also a young woman. Though not as breathtakingly beautiful as the one in white, she carried an air of transcendent grace.

"Master!"

The girl bowed deeply to the white-robed woman, though confusion flickered in her eyes.

Her master had abruptly accelerated mid-flight, only to stop here of all places.

But when she noticed the kneeling Song Fengquan and the blood-soaked Jiang Xiaobai beside him, realization dawned.

His gaze swept over the fallen demon beast nearby, and he couldn't help but mutter, "Huh? What's a demon beast doing in the outer mountain area?"

Turning to the woman beside him, he asked, "Master, what about them—"

"Leave them be. Let's return to the sect."

The breathtakingly beautiful woman's voice was as clear and cold as a mountain spring. Without another word, she turned to leave.

"Immortals, please wait!"

Song Fengquan, seeing them about to depart, called out urgently, his voice trembling. "M-my young master's fiancée joined your Cloud Sword Sect half a year ago. H-her name is Xiao Shuyun. Please, for her sake, save my young master..."

As he spoke, he continued kowtowing fervently.

Xiao Shuyun?

The stunning woman showed no reaction, but the younger disciple beside her clearly recognized the name, her expression flickering with surprise.

She turned to her master and said in a hushed tone, "Master, Xiao Shuyun is one of Third Elder's disciples—quite talented."

Then, hesitating for a moment, she leaned in closer and whispered something else, too soft for others to hear.

The beautiful woman's brows furrowed slightly. After a brief silence, she finally spoke, her voice still cool but carrying an undeniable authority.

"Yaoyao, go check his constitution."

"Yes, Master!"

Chu Yao nodded respectfully and stepped forward.

As she drew closer, she finally got a clear look at Jiang Xiaobai's face, and her eyes flickered with surprise.

What a strikingly handsome young man.

Yet... why was his complexion so unnaturally pale? And despite his youth, his hair was already streaked with gray—clear signs of frailty and illness.

A pang of sympathy stirred within her. Gently, she lifted her hand and placed a smooth stone over Jiang Xiaobai's abdomen.

Then, to her astonishment, the stone began to emit an eerie, shimmering glow.