Chapter 1
A gentle breeze caressed, like a pair of soft hands brushing across one’s cheeks.
Xia Nanxing had always been frail since childhood, prone to catching colds and fevers. Whether at home or in the hospital, the windows were always tightly shut; there was no way wind could get in.
Could the nurse have forgotten to close it?
He raised his hand to touch the bedside but couldn't find the call button. The texture under his palm wasn’t the familiar soft bed sheets, but something that felt rough, like burlap. Xia Nanxing frowned and struggled to open his eyes.
It wasn’t the familiar white ceiling of the hospital, but a slanted wooden roof, dark brown in color, with unfamiliar intersecting beams.
???
Xia Nanxing jolted awake, fully alert.
He clearly remembered that he had been living in the hospital for the past several months, bouncing between the intensive care unit and the regular ward. So how had he closed his eyes, only to open them and find himself in this antique wooden house?
Sitting up, he looked around. He was sitting on a creaky wooden bed covered with rough fabric. Piles of herbs, some fresh and some dried, filled almost every inch of the small room, nearly drowning a small table in the center. Against the walls stood a rickety multi-compartment cabinet, half of which was filled with bamboo and jade books, while the other half was cluttered with medicine grinders, mortar and pestles, and cutting tools for herbs.
It was a complete set of traditional Chinese medicine tools. Had Xia Nanxing not grown up in a family of traditional medicine practitioners, he might not have recognized all of these ancient relics.
The items were old, covered in a thick layer of dust, indicating they hadn't been used in a long time. Xia Nanxing was dazed for a moment, torn between whether this was a dream or definitely a dream. Lazily, he got up, clearing a narrow path through the clutter. He walked over to the cabinet, casually fiddled with some of the medicinal tools, and opened a bamboo scroll lying nearby.
The yellowed bamboo strips were filled with strong, bold ink characters, clear as if written yesterday. A faint glow emanated from the writing, making it easy to read even in the dim, unlit room.
“Disciples’ Code of Conduct, Renxin Mountain. First…”
A quick glance through it revealed that it was essentially a half-classical version of the "Code of Ethics for Doctors" that used to hang on the walls of the hospital.
What caught Xia Nanxing’s attention were the three characters at the very beginning—Renxin Mountain.
He had just read about this tiny sect in a cultivation novel a few days ago. The only named character from Renxin Mountain was a cannon fodder beauty with the same name as him. Not only did they share the same name, but the character in the book also had the same congenital heart disease. The only difference was that in the novel, Xia Nanxing was healed by dual cultivation with the protagonist, Long Aotian, a child of destiny.
Uh…
Xia Nanxing was stunned for a moment. He silently put down the book, picked up another one, read a few lines, then put it down again. After flipping through the seventh book, Renxin Mountain's Disciple Roster, his years of reading web novels while bedridden helped him realize the truth.
This wasn’t a dream—he had transmigrated into a novel. Worse yet, he had transmigrated into the body of a cannon fodder character. Even more irritating was that despite being in a book, his congenital heart disease had come along for the ride. Based on his extensive experience with illness, he could tell that his condition was just as dire as it had been in his previous life—practically on death's doorstep.
Since he could remember, he had received countless critical condition notices. Whenever death came, it wouldn't surprise him. In fact, now that he was still alive, he quickly collected himself and carefully recalled the original owner’s experiences.
Stripping away the filler, the basic plot was: the original Xia Nanxing fainted outside the sect, was picked up by Long Aotian, and after developing mutual feelings, they dual cultivated. This cured his heart disease. Later, during a great battle, he sacrificed himself to save Long Aotian, becoming a tragic memory, forever etched in Long Aotian’s heart.
Xia Nanxing: Thanks for the offer, but I’ll pass. I only read romance novels because I dislike harem plots in men’s stories. I prefer romance plots with a focused emotional line and a heavy emphasis on career progression.
No way was he following the original plot. Xia Nanxing was determined not to leave the mountain. He began to sort through his current advantages.
Even though Renxin Mountain was just a small, rundown sect, at least he was the sect leader. Granted, if you crossed out his deceased parents and the disciples who had left the sect, there were only three disciples left. But still, he had resources!
He had houses, spiritual fields, an entire mountain, bridges, flowing streams...
Well, the bridge had collapsed, there were only three wooden houses, and they were all on the verge of falling apart. The medicinal herb field was pitifully small, three-quarters of it was barren, and the only things thriving were the rushing stream and the tall grass swaying in the wind. Every so often, the sound of broken bridge fragments being swept against the shore by the current echoed through the air with a "plop."
This was the scene Xia Nanxing saw when he opened the door.
Though his body remained weak, Xia Nanxing's mindset was surprisingly positive. He calmly glanced at the tiny herb field, which he could cover with a single finger.
The quantity didn’t matter. What mattered was using them wisely.
Since this was a cultivation world, and dual cultivation could cure heart disease, there were bound to be many life-saving spiritual herbs and remedies. After rummaging through the house for a while, he actually found one.
The name was simple and to the point: Life-Saving Pill. It could protect the heart for half an hour in a life-threatening situation. It didn’t seem like much, but life and death often hinged on a single breath. As long as you could hold on, even half an hour—or half a minute—could pull someone back from death’s door and give them enough time for treatment. It was essentially a 100% success rate CPR pill.
If he could make several, half an hour after half an hour… as long as his hands were fast enough, he could achieve an infinite loop and survive indefinitely!
Flipping the page…
You could only take one per month. More than that, and it would have no effect. Excessive consumption in a short period would lead to toxic build-up, worsening the condition. The last section said so.
Doesn’t matter, Xia Nanxing thought. Let’s make a few first. The longer I can survive, the more time I’ll have to find a real cure. I’ve already died once, so the worst that can happen is starting over again. I absolutely refuse to lower myself or suffer humiliation.
Grumble… His stomach reminded him that he was hungry.
Although Xia Nanxing was the sect leader, it wasn’t because of his strength. His parents, the previous sect leaders, had died saving mortals from a beast, leaving behind two disciples—one whose cultivation was even worse than his, and the other who was always traveling. Naturally, the position of sect leader fell to him.
The original Xia Nanxing’s cultivation was laughably low. His weak constitution made cultivation difficult, and at seventeen, he had barely managed to sense qi. Afterward, he made no further progress. In most sects, someone like him would be kicked out as a bottom-tier disciple.
At this level, don’t even mention fasting.
Fortunately, the food supplies were still sufficient. Xia Nanxing dragged out some old pots, bowls, a small charcoal stove, and a bucket of rice from under the bed. The rice grains shimmered with a faint spiritual glow, likely protected by a spell to prevent spoilage. The rice was white and shiny, looking very appetizing. Several strings of cured meat hung outside the windows, and there was a small vegetable garden behind the house, much more lively than the herb field. A spiritual irrigation device stood in the center, sprinkling water over the lush green leaves.
There was rice, meat, and vegetables. If he could catch some fish from the stream, it would be perfect. Unfortunately, Xia Nanxing’s body couldn’t handle fishing, so he could only dream about it.
Whoever had prepared these supplies knew that his cultivation was nearly non-existent. There were even fire starters next to the charcoal stove. Xia Nanxing, unfamiliar with using them, spent quite a while figuring it out, and in the process, burned his finger, leaving a painful blister.
Using his limited cooking skills—mostly from making cat food rather than human meals—he managed to prepare a meal that was nutritious enough to fill his stomach, though it wasn’t particularly tasty. After eating, he found a small stool amidst the pile of herbs, sat at the door, and finished his meal. It was a bit rough, but it sufficed.
After eating, it was time to study. He cleared the herbs off the small table and pulled down all the medicinal books from the cabinet, spreading them across the table. Xia Nanxing began reviewing the illustrations of various herbs and spiritual materials.
In his previous life, his family had a vast collection of traditional Chinese medicinal texts. Having been influenced by his parents, who were both traditional doctors, Xia Nanxing had read plenty of these. Studying now was a breeze. Many of the herbs looked exactly like those from modern Chinese medicine books. It only took him most of the afternoon to memorize the herbs he needed.
As night fell, his frail body couldn’t handle staying up late. He marked his place with a few herb leaves, closed the windows, climbed into bed, and covered himself with the blanket. Obediently, he went to sleep.
Other than the bed being a bit hard, there was nothing to complain about. In fact, with no IV lines, no pills to swallow, and no need to spend six hours a day under a saline drip, Xia Nanxing found his current state much more comfortable despite still being sick.
The following days were simple yet pleasant. His daily habit of hospital check-ups had ingrained a punctual internal clock in him. Every morning, he woke up, felt his heart beating, smiled in satisfaction, prepared breakfast, then got to work on his medicine-making tasks: gathering herbs, weighing them, cutting them, mixing them, grinding them, and finally, shaping them into pills.
Most of these steps went smoothly. Xia Nanxing worked slowly but managed to finish before nightfall. The hard part was the final step—shaping the pills.
It wasn’t just about rolling them in your hands. You had to infuse them with spiritual energy. Xia Nanxing’s cultivation was already weak, and he wasn’t skilled at using spiritual energy. Often, the energy would wildly rush through his body, making him dizzy for half a day before he could barely channel it into his hands. The moment he pressed his palms together…
Splat. The herbs turned into a pile of ash, and his spiritual energy was depleted, leaving him needing two days to recover before he could try again.
This cycle repeated for nearly a month. The spring breeze gradually took on the warmth of early summer, and Xia Nanxing finally started to get the hang of using spiritual energy. On a sunny afternoon, a small, pitch-black Life-Saving Pill appeared in his palm. Its color, scent, and spiritual aura matched the book’s description perfectly.
Xia Nanxing smiled and admired his work for a long time, proudly concluding, “As expected of me!”
Should he try eating one first? The book mentioned that occasionally consuming one could provide short-term heart protection. The past few days had been taxing on him, and his medication had run out. His symptoms of heart palpitations and chest pain had worsened. Several times, he had instinctively reached for the medicine by his bedside, only to find it wasn’t there.
Determined, Xia Nanxing popped the little black pill into his mouth. Just as he was about to swallow, there was a sudden knock on the wooden door.
He had explored the front of the mountain in the past few days. All the other houses were locked, and the other two disciples were clearly not around. The mountain should be empty. The wooden house wasn’t soundproof, so even if someone had returned, there should’ve been footsteps. Yet today, besides the rustling of tall grass, he hadn’t heard anything.
Thud.
Another knock. Xia Nanxing listened carefully. The sound came from the bottom of the door, like someone was gently kicking it.
Could it be… Long Aotian? Such stealthy movements, it must be either a protagonist or a beast.
In any case, he couldn’t open the door.
Xia Nanxing held his breath, pretending no one was home. The knocking stopped.
Just as he was about to relax, the tightly shut window suddenly creaked open.
“Who’s there?”
There was no fateful lightning strike or golden glow signaling the arrival of a chosen one. Not even a shadow appeared. Only a single warm orange dandelion swayed in the evening breeze.
“Meow~”
The dandelion meowed.
“Meow?” Xia Nanxing’s eyes lit up. Instantly, he seemed to be filled with energy. He swept the herbs aside and quickly walked to the window.
A fluffy little orange cat finally managed to prop its chin on the windowsill. With a push of its front paws and a kick of its back legs, it leaped through the window and landed perfectly in Xia Nanxing’s arms. “Meow~~~”
That familiar, drawn-out meow was unmistakably from the little stray orange tabby that had never seemed to grow up, always lingering around the hospital alley.
“Orange Kitty~” Xia Nanxing mimicked the cat’s meow, his usually bright voice taking on a softer, sweeter tone. His hands, more delicate than when handling herbs, gently rubbed the fluffy little head.
“Meow~ Meow meow meow~” The chubby tabby nuzzled its neck into Xia Nanxing’s palm, purring contentedly with its eyes half-closed.
Xia Nanxing’s heart melted. He pulled out the little charcoal stove to cook up a meal for the cat. “The ingredients are limited. No dried fish, so you’ll have to make do… Wait, are you hurt?”
The paw pads of the little tabby were covered in thick, half-dried blood. Judging by how quickly it moved, the blood probably wasn’t its own, but there was a fresh cut on its left hind leg. The wound, about the length of a finger, looked like a knife wound, with blood still seeping out.
“Meow?” The chubby tabby suddenly kicked off with its hind legs, its previously content eyes snapping open as if it suddenly remembered something. It gave Xia Nanxing a light kick and leaped back onto the windowsill, leaving behind a “meow!” as it darted away.
How can it run so fast when it’s injured? Did I hurt it?
Xia Nanxing worriedly poked his head out the window, but the little cat had already disappeared.
Thud! The door knocked again.
“Orange Kitty?” Xia Nanxing crouched by the door and asked softly.
He wanted to open the door, but the sound was firm and strong, not something a small cat’s paw could produce.
“Meow meow meow!” A soft, fluffy meow came from outside. Xia Nanxing hesitated, then cautiously opened the door, only to be greeted by the sight of the chubby tabby perched atop a head of jet-black hair, holding a hand with its paw. The person was lying face down on the ground, severely injured and unconscious.
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