I was a mineral prospector in Chengdu, who transmigrated into the body of a mortal sword immortal.

Li Bai limped through the increasingly dark forest. The knocking sounds grew clearer, each one like a blow to his skull, making his eardrums ring. He leaned against a tree trunk, panting. The wound on his left arm throbbed with pain under the rough bandage; hunger caused his stomach to cramp, and thirst made his throat burn. But he couldn't stop. The sound was just ahead; perhaps he could find its source just around that moss-covered boulder. He took a deep breath and was about to take a step when a soft "crack" came from the bushes ahead—not from a wild animal, but from footsteps. A figure emerged from the twilight, carrying a large bamboo basket on his back and a hoe in his hand. It was an old man, his hair white, his face covered with deep wrinkles, staring at him with astonishment, especially at his bloodstained arm and tattered clothes.

The two looked at each other from ten steps apart.

Li Bai's hand rested on the hilt of his sword, his muscles tense. The old mountain dweller also stopped, his hoe slightly raised, his eyes wary. The light in the forest was already dim, with only a lingering, dark red glow on the western horizon filtering through the gaps in the tree canopy and casting dappled shadows on the old man's face. His bamboo basket was filled with various herbs, emitting a mixture of bitterness and fragrance, some still covered in damp soil.

"Thump...thump...thump..."

The knocking continued, coming from behind the old man, and seemed to be getting closer.

The old man spoke first, his voice hoarse and thick with a Sichuan accent: "Who...who are you? What happened to you?"

Li Bai loosened the hilt of his sword, trying to make his voice sound calm: "I am... a scholar searching for ancient sites. I got lost in the mountains and encountered wolves."

"A wolf?" The old man frowned even more, looking him up and down. "Alone? Coming to a place like this to search for historical sites? You must be crazy."

"It was indeed a bit reckless," Li Bai said with a wry smile, pulling out a few copper coins from his pocket—his only remaining silver. "Old man, I still have some money on me. Could I... exchange it for some food and drink? Also, do you have any herbs in this basket that can treat external injuries?"

The old man stared at the copper coin in Li Bai's hand, then at his pale face and blood-stained sleeve, and remained silent for a moment. The tapping continued, each sound making the wooden plaque in Li Bai's arms slightly warm. The old man seemed to notice the sound, listened intently, and then sighed: "Come with me."

***

The old man led Li Bai eastward for about half a mile, until they reached a sheltered mountain hollow. There was a naturally formed rock shelter there, with some dry firewood piled underneath, and a small stove made of stones, with embers still burning inside. Clearly, this was the old man's temporary resting place.

"Sit down." The old man pointed to a flat stone, put down his bamboo basket, and began rummaging through it.

Li Bai sat down as instructed, only then feeling his bones groaning. He unloaded his luggage, leaned against the rock wall, and scanned his surroundings. The rock shelter wasn't large, but it was enough to shelter him from the wind and rain. In the corner were some bags of dry food and a water gourd. The air was filled with the smell of firewood smoke, herbs, and the unique scent of an old man who had spent years working in the mountains—a mixture of sweat and earth.

The old man took out several herbs from his bamboo basket, placed them on a stone, and crushed them with another stone. The herbs had serrated leaves, and when crushed, they released a green juice that emitted a pungent, spicy smell. He then took out a small cloth bag from his pocket, opened it, and found some white powder inside.

"Stretch out your hand," the old man said.

Li Bai unwrapped the bandage on his left arm. The wound was exposed to the air; the area around the hole left by the wolf's fang was red, swollen, and inflamed, with an ominous yellow tinge at the edges. The old man glanced at it and clicked his tongue: "Two more days later, this arm would have been useless."

He rinsed the wound with clean water—water poured from a water hyacinth, clear and icy cold—which stung the wound but also slightly relieved the burning sensation. Then, the old man applied crushed herbs to the wound and re-bandaged it with clean strips of cloth. The moment the herbs were applied, a cooling sensation seeped into the skin, and the pain lessened considerably.

"This is 'Ghost Arrow Grass,' which mountain people use to treat external injuries, stopping bleeding and reducing swelling," the old man said while bandaging. "You're lucky; I just happened to pick a few today."

After bandaging him up, the old man took out two coarse bread cakes from his food bag, broke one in half and handed it to Li Bai, then handed him a water gourd: "Eat."

Li Bai took the cake and took a bite. The cake was hard, with a rough, bran-like texture, but in his extreme hunger, it was a delicacy. He chewed it heartily and then gulped down several mouthfuls of water. The cool water slid down his parched throat like sweet rain nourishing parched land. He drank several mouthfuls before restraining himself from drinking more—he knew that in the deep mountains, water was more precious than food.

The old man broke off half a pancake for himself and chewed slowly, his gaze fixed on Li Bai. Only after Li Bai had almost finished eating did he speak: "You said you're a scholar searching for historical sites?"

"Yes." Li Bai nodded, carefully wrapped the remaining cakes, and put them into his bag. "I've heard that there are some ancient ruins deep in the Shu Mountains, so I'd like to come and explore them."

"Ancient ruins?" The old man smiled, a smile tinged with bitterness and an indescribable emotion. "Young man, do you know what this place is? This is deep within the main vein of the Shu Mountains, a place even the most experienced hunters dare not easily venture into. As for those 'ancient ruins' you speak of, I've been gathering herbs in these mountains for forty years, and I have heard of some, but..."

He paused, then looked northwest. The knocking continued, but now it sounded clearer, as if it were coming from nearby.

"Did you hear that sound?" the old man asked.

"I heard it," Li Bai said. "It's been going on since yesterday evening. Old man, do you know what that sound is?"

The old man remained silent for a long time. Dusk had completely enveloped the forest, and the light under the rock shelter had dimmed, with only the faint red glow of the remaining embers in the stove illuminating his wrinkled face. In the distance, the mournful cries of owls echoed, long and drawn-out.

"That voice..." the old man said slowly, "came from the direction of 'Hidden Mist Valley'."

***

"Hidden Valley of Misty Clouds?" Li Bai repeated the name.

"Hmm." The old man added a few more pieces of firewood to the stove, and the flames reignited, dispelling the surrounding darkness and chill. "Go north, cross that mountain ahead, and you'll reach the territory of Misty Valley. That place... is very eerie."

The firelight illuminated the old man's face, and his expression became solemn, his eyes revealing a hint of awe, or perhaps fear.

"What kind of strange method is it?" Li Bai pressed.

"Mist-Hidden Valley, as the name suggests, is shrouded in thick fog all year round," the old man said. "It's not ordinary mountain fog, but the kind of thick, white fog that's as thick as rice porridge. Once you go in, you can't see anything more than three steps away, and even your voice can't travel far. Moreover, that fog is poisonous—not extremely poisonous, but if you inhale too much, you'll feel dizzy, your limbs will go weak, and eventually you'll lose your way and die inside."

Li Bai recalled the woodcutter's words: "A black square stone with eyes carved on it... a road sign..."

"Waymarks?" The old man shook his head. "In Misty Valley, no waymarks are useful. My grandfather's generation had a herb gatherer who didn't believe in superstitions and insisted on going in to collect a kind of 'Mist Spirit Mushroom' that only grows in Misty Valley. He made thorough preparations, bringing ropes, a compass, and even marking the way. And what happened? Three days later, someone found him at the valley entrance—he had gone mad, constantly muttering 'The door is open, the door is open,' without a single injury, just completely delirious. He died less than half a month later."

"A door?" Li Bai's heart skipped a beat.

"Yes, a door." The old man lowered his voice. "Our ancestors said that there was a 'Gate of Immortals' deep within Misty Valley. It's called a door, but no one has ever really seen it. Some say it's a glowing crack, some say it's a moving boulder, and some say... it's not a door at all, but an entrance to another world."

Li Bai's hand instinctively pressed against his chest, where the wooden plaque was slightly warm to the rhythm of the tapping. The Immortal Gate… the entrance to another world… was this related to what he was searching for?

"Besides Misty Valley, are there any other strange places around here?" Li Bai asked again.

"There's a place called 'Thunderous Ravine' to the west," the old man said. "That place is strange. Even on a clear day, sometimes you can hear a thunderous roar that shakes the ground. But when you look up at the sky, there isn't a single cloud. Some say it's the mountain god's anger, while others say it's something moving underground. When I was young, I was curious and went there once. I heard a loud bang as soon as I reached the mouth of the ravine, and I was so scared that I turned around and ran away. I never dared to go any closer again."

Misty Valley, Thunderous Ravine.

Li Bai silently noted down the two names. The knocking sound came from the direction of Misty Valley, and the unusually loud noise from Thunderous Ravine... could it also be related to some kind of "relic"?

"Old man," Li Bai took out all the remaining copper coins from his pocket, about twenty or so, and placed them in front of the old man, "These coins can be exchanged for some dry food, water, and the kind of herbal medicine for treating injuries. Also... I would like to ask you to show me the way to Misty Valley."

The old man stared at the copper coins, then looked up at Li Bai, his eyes filled with complex emotions: "Young man, didn't you hear what I just said? Misty Valley is a no-go! That place can kill!"

"I must go." Li Bai's voice was calm, but it conveyed an undeniable firmness. "I have a reason why I absolutely must go."

"What reason could be more important than life?" the old man asked, somewhat agitated. "You speak with an air of refinement, like a scholar. Why must you choose to walk a path that leads to your death? You have parents, a wife, and children at home, don't you? What will they do if you die in there?"

Parents, wife, children...

Li Bai's mind flashed with Yang Xiaohuan's face, with the deep sorrow and helplessness hidden in her eyes. Then he saw Yang Yuhuan's face again, a fifteen-year-old girl, beautiful and extraordinary, yet destined to enter the deep palace and meet her end at Mawei Slope.

"It is precisely because there are things more important than life," Li Bai said softly, "that I must go."

The old man fell silent. He stared at Li Bai for a long time, the firelight flickering in his aged eyes. Finally, he sighed deeply, reached out and put away the copper coins: "Enough, enough. You scholars are all as stubborn as oxen. When I was young, I also met someone like you..."

He paused, seemingly lost in memories, but quickly shook his head and pulled out a few things from the bamboo basket: two coarse flour cakes wrapped in oil paper, a small bag of fried rice, and several dark ointments wrapped in leaves.

"Take these," the old man said. "The cakes and fried rice are enough for you for three days, so eat them sparingly. This ointment is made from 'Ghost Arrow Grass' and several other herbs; it's more effective for treating external injuries than fresh herbs. Change it every day. Water..." He picked up his water gourd, hesitated for a moment, and then handed it to Li Bai. "Here you go. There's a stream about five miles ahead; the water is very clean. You can fill it up there."

Li Bai accepted the gifts and carefully put them away. The water gourd was made of bamboo, its surface worn smooth and shiny, clearly having been with the old man for many years. This gift far exceeded the value of the twenty-odd copper coins.

"Thank you," Li Bai said solemnly.

"Don't thank me yet." The old man waved his hand, then took out a small cloth bag from his pocket. He opened it and found some dried grass leaves that emitted a strange fragrance. "This is 'Awakening Grass.' Crush it and stuff it into your nostrils to protect against the miasma in Misty Valley. Remember, once you enter the mist, you need to change it every hour, otherwise it won't be effective."

Li Bai took the cloth bag and carefully put it into his arms.

"As for the road..." The old man stood up, walked to the edge of the rock shelter, and pointed north. "Do you see that mountain? There's a rock on the top that looks like an eagle's beak."

Li Bai followed his finger and looked in the direction he was pointing. In the twilight, the outline of the mountains to the north resembled the spine of a giant beast, and on the summit of one of the mountains was indeed a protruding rock, shaped much like an eagle's beak.

"Go north from here, along the ridgeline, and you'll reach Eagle's Beak Rock in about two hours. From Eagle's Beak Rock, head east, and there's a very hidden path, made by herb gatherers in the past. It's probably covered by vines now, but you should be able to find it if you look carefully. Follow the path downhill, and you'll reach the eastern entrance to Misty Valley—the mist is relatively thinner there, and a stream flows out of the valley. You can follow the stream inwards; at least you won't completely lose your way."

The old man turned to look at Li Bai: "Remember, once you enter Misty Valley, everything depends on yourself. I can only guide you, not guarantee your safety. If... if you feel something is wrong, turn back immediately and return along the stream. You only have one life; once it's gone, it's gone."

Li Bai nodded: "I've got it."

The old man sighed again, sat back down by the fire, and added the last few pieces of firewood to the stove. The flames leaped, casting long, distorted shadows of the two men onto the rock wall.

"That knocking sound..." Li Bai suddenly asked, "Do you know exactly what made it?"

The old man shook his head: "I don't know. This sound started about two weeks ago. At first, it was very faint, only appearing every few days. Recently, it's become more frequent and louder. People in the mountains say that something from Misty Valley is about to come out." He paused, lowering his voice, "My grandfather said that the 'Immortal Gate' of Misty Valley opens once every few decades. When the gate opens, there are all sorts of strange phenomena—strange noises, earthquakes, changes in the mist… This knocking sound might be a sign that the gate is about to open."

Li Bai's heart skipped a beat.

Is the door about to open?

If there really is a "Divine Gate" deep within Misty Valley, and if that gate is truly related to the Shu Mountain Secret Realm and ancient inheritances... then now, perhaps, is his only chance.

There are at most three days before the eunuchs arrive in Chengdu.

He must find the power to change his fate within three days.

"Old man," Li Bai stood up, slung his bag over his shoulder, and hung the water gourd at his waist, "thank you for saving my life and showing me the way. If I can get out of here alive..."

"Don't say that," the old man interrupted him, stood up, patted him on the shoulder, and said, "Come out alive, then come find me for a drink. If you don't make it out... well, at least you tried, so you have no regrets."

without regret.

Li Bai pondered these four words and nodded. He bowed deeply to the old man, then turned and stepped into the night-shrouded forest.

An old man's voice came from behind: "Remember! Follow the ridgeline! When you see Eagle's Beak Rock, head east!"

Li Bai did not turn around, but simply raised his hand and waved to indicate that he had heard.

He followed the old man's directions and headed north. The path beneath his feet was rugged and uneven. The forest in the night resembled a sleeping giant, every tree and every stone hidden in darkness, with only occasional moonlight filtering through the canopy to provide some illumination. The wound on his left arm felt much cooler thanks to the ointment, but each step still aggravated it, causing sharp pains. The blisters on the soles of his feet had burst, and each step felt like walking on knife points.

But he didn't stop.

The knocking continued, coming from the north, clearly audible through the night and the forest.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Like a heartbeat, like a call, like the drumbeat of destiny.

Two hours later, Li Bai climbed the mountain with the eagle-beak rock. Standing on the summit, he looked back in the direction he had come from—the old man's rock shelter was no longer visible, only a dark forest and a few faint points of light in the distance, whether fireflies or starlight, were visible.

Then he turned around and looked north.

There, nestled among the mountains, lies an area shrouded in thick white fog. Even in the darkness of night, the fog is clearly visible—not ordinary mountain fog, but a milky-white, almost living fog, slowly flowing and swirling, completely enveloping the valley. Moonlight shines down above the fog, but cannot penetrate it, only forming a hazy halo on the surface, eerie and mysterious.

That is Misty Valley.

The knocking sound came from deep within the thick fog, and now it sounded clearer and more powerful, as if it were right next to my ear.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Each sound made the wooden plaque in his arms burn.

Li Bai stood atop the mountain, the night wind ruffling his tattered clothes and tousling his hair. He gazed at the valley shrouded in thick fog, in the direction where the legendary "Gate of Immortals" might be located.

Three days.

He only has three days.

He took a deep breath, gripped the hilt of his sword, and strode eastward to find the hidden path the old man had described.

The figure quickly disappeared into the night, leaving only the continuous knocking sound echoing through the mountains, like some ancient ritual slowly beginning.