Chapter Four: An Unusual Mortal

In the rear courtyard of the Purple Profound Mansion, Qin Yu sat alone, drinking wine. Yet his power of dominion was always focused on the lower realm. Though he could not intervene directly, as a father, he remained deeply concerned for his two sons.

“Brother Yu…” Jiang Li came again to stand behind Qin Yu. Qin Yu set down his cup, a look of tender pity on his face. “Li’er, what’s troubling you?”

Li’er bit her lip, hesitant to speak, her voice soft. “Xiao Shuang, he…” It was no wonder—since the two brothers had departed, Jiang Li had grown ever more anxious about them. What once had her asking every few days, now had her asking several times a day.

Qin Yu smiled gently, reaching out to draw Li’er’s slender waist close and comfort her. “Don’t worry. Xiao Shuang is, after all, a seventh-level Immortal Emperor. In the mortal realm, no one can threaten him. And even if something unexpected happened, Xiao Si could appear at his side in an instant. Surely you don’t believe anyone in the mortal world could overcome a high god equipped with two top-tier Hongmeng treasures?”

“I know…” Li’er sighed softly. “It’s just… not seeing them makes my heart uneasy.”

“Heh, don’t worry. When they return, perhaps they’ll bring you an even greater surprise.” Qin Yu smiled, though his heart was tinged with melancholy. “I’m no different, after all. I’m their father… Xiao Shuang, the game of the Controllers has begun. I hope my decision helps you go farther on your path.”

…

In this technological universe, humanity’s obsession with technology had come to dominate all else. Earth, once the core planet of cultivation, had now become a world of pure technology. Cultivators were long forgotten by ordinary mortals, their existence surviving only within certain ancient formations, preserving the old ways.

Earth had already passed through three eras of technological civilization. No one knew why, but each time technology reached a certain height, disaster would strike, shattering their progress and dealing a devastating blow. Now, civilization had once more reached impressive heights, and some so-called prophets had begun speculating about when the next catastrophe would come.

The Colorful Tower, Earth’s tallest building, soared from the ground straight into the clouds. At its highest point, the Crystal Hall, twenty-three thousand meters above the surface, people could gaze through glass at a dazzling night sky—a view utterly unlike anything on the ground. Of course, tickets for the Crystal Hall were exorbitant; an ordinary person could not afford one even after ten years’ wages, making it a haunt for the wealthy.

Yet, as with all things, there were exceptions. A young man in casual sportswear strolled through the ticket gate, never once showing any proof of purchase. Neither machines nor security reacted in the slightest, letting him enter the elevator to the Crystal Hall unhindered.

“It’s much more relaxed in the mortal realm—not nearly as oppressive as Mist City,” Qin Shuang murmured with a smile, though his mind was busy with reflection. “No matter how technology advances, it can’t truly change anything. It can’t even solve simple planetary drift or cosmic collisions. Compared to cultivators, it’s woefully inadequate.”

With the most advanced elevator transporting him swiftly, it took only forty-eight seconds to ascend the full twenty-three thousand meters, overcoming the force of Earth’s gravity. One had to admit, in the past few centuries, Earth’s technological progress had been nothing short of revolutionary.

“Forty-eight seconds… even a tribulation-stage cultivator could traverse this distance in a single instant,” Qin Shuang mused as he blended in with the crowd, strolling through the Crystal Hall. He gazed at the night sky through the glass, marveling: “Who would have thought? Standing on solid ground, with just a thin layer of glass between you and the heavens, the night becomes even more splendid and mysterious.” With a single thought, Qin Shuang vanished—most strangely, of the hundred or so people in the hall, not one noticed his disappearance.

Outside Earth’s atmosphere, Qin Shuang stood suspended in the void, utterly indifferent to the sensation of weightlessness. He looked down at the slowly turning blue planet beneath his feet. “Beautiful… I wonder, compared to the Purple Profound Star, which is more so? One day, I must visit father’s homeland and see it for myself.”

“Hm? Many cultivators…” As Qin Shuang swept the cosmos with his divine sense, he discovered a planet of cultivators. “Interesting. Let’s take a look.” Without the desire to cultivate at the moment, and newly arrived in the lower realm, everything was novel to him. Even the ancient Earth game of four people playing mahjong had caught his curiosity.

The constraints of the mortal world were negligible for Qin Shuang. With a single thought, he traversed hundreds of thousands of light-years instantly, according to Earth’s measurements. Not far ahead, a green planet loomed a hundred times the size of Earth. Yet, scanning it with his immortal sense, Qin Shuang found only about a million inhabitants. Compared to Earth’s billions, it was almost empty by comparison.

“Hm?” Suddenly, Qin Shuang sensed something amiss. The dozens of cultivators he’d noticed were rushing with great speed toward a gathering of mortals. Judging by the excitement on their faces and their unconcealed killing intent, they were clearly coming to make trouble for those mortals.

“All this for a dozen mortals? Is it really necessary to send fifty cultivators?” Even Qin Shuang was surprised at the sight. Sweeping his immortal sense over the mortals, he found them unremarkable except for their robust physiques.

“Well now, there are strange things every day, but today is truly bizarre.” Qin Shuang chuckled softly, descending to a nearby mountain close to the mortals. With a flick of his finger, he carved a chair from a boulder and sat down comfortably to watch the show.

Neither the cultivators nor the mortals sensed Qin Shuang’s presence, but that didn’t stop them from being acutely aware of each other.

“They’re coming after us,” Lei Shan grunted, still chewing on a hunk of meat.

“What’s wrong, Brother Lei?” a young man beside him asked, pausing with his chopsticks in midair, puzzled. Soon, though, he understood, his eyes blazing with anger. “Good—they’ve come! If not for them, we wouldn’t have lost contact with Brother Lei Tian. We won’t run any longer. Let’s fight them!” In the blink of an eye, all the men were on their feet, faces flushed with rage, glaring at the direction from which the fifty cultivators approached. Clearly, a deep-seated enmity existed between the two groups.

“Remarkable! Truly remarkable!” Qin Shuang poured himself another drink, watching with great interest. “No divine sense, no technological devices, no cultivation level—yet they can sense cultivators at the Void period. Truly, the universe is full of marvels.”

Before long, the fifty cultivators hovered in the air, glowering down at the mortals. Their leader, a Void-stage expert, barked, “You uncivilized savages, hand over Ruan Lingyu, or none of you will leave alive today!”

“Hmph! You damn Taoists—we found Ruan Lingyu first, she should belong to us! You’re the ones trying to steal her, yet you call us savages. Shameless!” Before Lei Shan could retort, one of the young men spat back furiously.

“And who do you think you are, to speak to me that way? You need to be taught a lesson!” the leader snapped. As he spoke, a fan-shaped mid-grade spiritual artifact shot from his hand, hurtling toward the young man’s head.

Qin Shuang had no intention of intervening. In this universe, survival of the fittest was the law—helping today would not ensure their safety tomorrow. Better to let nature take its course. In Qin Shuang’s eyes, the young man’s death was all but certain.

A thunderous boom erupted. Dust billowed, shrouding everyone in a cloud so thick that nothing could be seen by the naked eye.

Qin Shuang’s heart gave a sudden jolt. In the Qin family, his cultivation was the lowest—just a seventh-level Immortal Emperor—but here in the mortal world, he was invincible. Even a tribulation-stage cultivator was as insignificant as an ant before him. Yet, what his immortal sense had just seen stunned him.

At the last instant, as the mid-grade artifact was about to strike, Lei Shan’s arm flashed with golden light, intercepting the blow. The fan struck his arm but failed to do any harm, instead rebounding back to its owner. By Qin Shuang’s estimation, in that split second, the power released by Lei Shan’s arm was at least on par with a late Void-stage cultivator—perhaps even approaching the tribulation stage.

What was even more astonishing was that the cultivators showed no surprise at all, as if accustomed to such displays. The Void-stage leader laughed, “Well, Lei Shan, let’s see how you savages can protect Ruan Lingyu today!”

“Despicable cultivators! If you’ve got the guts, come down here and I, Lei, will smash your skull and tear out your nascent soul!” Lei Shan roared. Though mortals, they had no ability to fly, their bodies were incredibly tough—at close combat, they were not inferior to these cultivators at all.

Qin Shuang was astonished. His immortal sense had confirmed these men were mere mortals—yet they could withstand the attacks of Void-stage cultivators. This was a first for him.

“Fascinating. No wonder Xiao Shuang wanted to come to the lower realm—this place truly is marvelous!” Far away on another mortal planet, in a humble tavern, Qin Si lounged with his legs crossed, sipping his wine and humming along to the music, his spirit sense always following Qin Shuang’s adventures in the distance.

(At the request of my friend An Xiang, I offer this blessing on her behalf: An Xiang sends birthday wishes to her future master Tang Jia San Shao—may the legendary Schumacher’s ‘Wei’ name never fade!)