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

Duan Qiniang's tears finally stopped. She wiped her cheeks with a handkerchief, stood up, and walked to Li Bai's side. She didn't try to persuade him further, but simply said softly, "Young master, the porridge is still warm. I'll get you another bowl." Li Bai shook his head, his gaze still fixed on the distant mountains outside the window. The sun was setting, and the sky was ablaze with brilliant sunset clouds, painting Zhongnan Mountain in a golden-red hue. Tomorrow would be the day that would decide everything. He turned to look at Duan Qiniang and suddenly smiled, "Qiniang, if I can return tomorrow, I'll take you to Shu to see the real Shu Mountains." Duan Qiniang nodded vigorously, tears welling up again. As night deepened, the bells of Qingwei Temple rang out, long and solemn, as if counting down to an impending moment.

When the bell tolled, Li Bai had already left the room.

He didn't go through the main gate, but instead climbed over the low wall of the backyard and hurried along the mountain path. The moonlight was faint, mostly obscured by clouds, shrouding the forest in darkness. The fallen leaves rustled under his feet, and occasionally a night bird would take flight, its flapping wings particularly clear in the silence. Li Bai moved quickly, but his breathing was steady, his inner energy flowing slowly through his meridians, repairing the fatigue of the past few days.

There are two days left until the investiture ceremony.

Chang'an City is just ahead.

***

At 11:45 AM, Li Bai stood beside the dry well in the backyard of Xuandu Temple.

Chang'an City tonight was different from any other. Even from several miles away, he could feel the tense atmosphere—there were three times more torches on the city walls than usual, the footsteps of patrolling soldiers were as dense as rain, and the shouts of those checking people at the city gates could be faintly heard, drifting in the night wind. The air was filled with a sense of oppression, a mixture of the smells of incense, dust, and metal—the solemnity before a grand ceremony, and the strict discipline of the power machine at full operation.

Li Bai took a deep breath; the air carried the coolness of early autumn, along with the faint smell of smoke drifting from the distant city of Chang'an.

He moved the stone slab at the wellhead and jumped down.

The bottom of the well remained damp and cold, the earthy smell mingling with the rusty scent of bronze. Li Bai didn't light a tinderbox; his Foundation Establishment cultivation allowed him to make out the general outlines even in the darkness. He walked quickly along the passage, his fingers brushing against the stone wall, feeling that the watermarks left from the previous night had completely dried, the stone surface rough and cold.

Enter the grotto.

The bronze altar stood silently in the darkness, like a sleeping ancient behemoth.

Li Bai walked to the altar and took out a tinderbox from his robes, lighting it. The dim light illuminated the surface of the altar—the patterns he had been repairing over the past few days shimmered with a faint golden luster in the firelight, like a network of blood flowing beneath skin. The repair was 95% complete, with only the last three most intricate defects remaining.

These three locations are situated on the edge of the circular platform at the top of the altar, arranged in a triangular symmetrical pattern.

Each defect involves the convergence of at least five energy channels, with patterns as fine as a hair and a structure as complex as a maze. A few nights ago, Li Bai tried to bridge them with talismans, but the results were poor—the energy fluctuated violently when it passed through, even causing some of the patterns to crack. He understood that conventional methods would not work.

Unconventional methods must be used.

He took out the box of special pigments from his pocket. The box was made of sandalwood, about the size of a palm, with a simple spirit-gathering array engraved on its surface. Opening the lid, he found a semi-solidified dark red paste inside, emitting a strong cinnabar scent mixed with the sweet, fishy smell of some kind of demonic beast blood. This was "Crimson Dragon Blood Sand," which he had obtained at the Chang'an black market with his last few spirit stones; it had an excellent affinity for spiritual energy conduction.

Then he took out three small wolf-hair brushes.

The nib is made of snow wolf tail hair, as fine as a needle, and the pen shaft is made of century-old peach wood, engraved with runes to stabilize the mind.

Li Bai sat cross-legged in front of the altar and closed his eyes.

In his mind, the chapters on formations from the *Azure Lotus Sword Manual* surfaced. Those words, diagrams, and annotations overlapped, compared, and corrected with the patterns on the altar before him. Simultaneously, the mind of a modern geologist was at work: the energy channels were like underground rivers, the patterned structure like geological faults, and the defects like cracks in the rock strata…

What is needed is "guidance" rather than "blockage," and "adaptation" rather than "forced implementation."

He opened his eyes.

My gaze fell on the first defect.

It was a circular area about three inches in diameter, where the original patterns had been completely worn away, leaving only a smooth bronze surface. But the "entrances" to the five energy channels around it remained, like five streams converging at the edge of a dried-up lake.

Li Bai dipped his brush in the blood of a red dragon and held the tip above the damaged area.

Instead of directly drawing, he channeled his true energy into the tip of his brush. A pale golden light spread from the brush handle to the tip, and the blood-red sand began to glow faintly under the stimulation of his true energy, emitting a warm red light. He held his breath, his wrist as steady as a rock.

The first stroke is made.

It's not a pattern, but a dot.

The point is located in the exact center of the defective area.

The moment the pen tip touched the bronze surface, Li Bai felt a faint suction force—the altar was actively absorbing the spiritual energy from the blood sand. He steadied his wrist, continuously outputting his true essence, causing the red dot to slowly expand, forming a circular base with a diameter of half an inch.

Then, the pen tip began to move.

It's not about restoring the original patterns—that's impossible, because the original patterns have completely disappeared. Instead, it's about deriving the most reasonable "connection path" based on the direction, angle, and spiritual energy attributes of the five surrounding energy channels.

The pen tip glides across the bronze surface, leaving behind delicate, hair-like red lines.

The lines are not straight lines, but curves with subtle arcs, like the natural branching of plant roots, or the path of water flowing with the terrain. After drawing an inch, Li Bai would pause for a moment, using his true essence to sense the degree of resonance between the lines and the surrounding energy channels, and adjust the angle and thickness of the next inch.

The air gradually filled with the pungent smell of cinnabar and the sweet, metallic scent of blood.

Fine beads of sweat appeared on Li Bai's forehead.

This wasn't physical labor, but rather extremely precise manipulation and calculation of spiritual energy. Each stroke required a great deal of mental effort, with true essence flowing rapidly through his meridians, emitting a slight humming sound. His eyes were fixed on the tip of the pen, his pupils reflecting the interplay of red lines and pale golden true essence.

Time passed in silence.

After an unknown amount of time, the first defect was repaired.

Five red lines extend from the central base, seamlessly connecting with the five surrounding energy channels. The surfaces of the lines gleam with a warm red light, and spiritual energy flows smoothly within them without the slightest fluctuation.

Li Bai let out a long breath and wiped the sweat from his forehead.

His throat was dry, so he took out his water pouch and took a sip. The water was cool, and it slid down his esophagus, relieving some of his fatigue. But he didn't rest; his gaze turned to the second defect.

This part is more complicated.

The damaged area was an irregular polygon, involving seven energy channels, three of which were uniquely structured as "bidirectional flow." Li Bai closed his eyes and mentally rehearsed the scenario again. This time, he incorporated concepts from modern fluid mechanics—spiritual energy, like a fluid, is affected by pressure, resistance, and inertia when flowing through a pipe…

The pen tip fell again.

This time, he didn't draw simple lines, but a miniature "network of nodes." The red lines intertwined, forming tiny ring structures, with even finer branches connecting the rings. The entire network looked like a delicate leaf vein, or some kind of integrated circuit.

Sweat slid down Li Bai's cheeks, dripping onto the bronze surface with a soft "hiss" sound before evaporating instantly.

His wrist began to tremble slightly.

The consumption of true essence was too great. After repairing the altar for two consecutive nights, plus the deductions and preparations during the day, the true essence reserves of a Foundation Establishment cultivator were nearly exhausted. But he gritted his teeth, and the output of true essence did not weaken in the slightest—if it were interrupted, the spiritual power in the blood sand would go out of control, and the entire node network would collapse.

The pen tip moved with difficulty across the bronze surface.

Every inch felt like wading through a swamp.

Finally, the last stroke was completed.

All seven energy channels were connected, and the red light of the node network glowed steadily, with spiritual energy circulating within, forming a self-consistent small energy field. Li Bai put down his pen, his arm so weak he could barely lift it. He slumped to the ground, panting heavily, his chest heaving violently.

Only his heavy breathing could be heard in the cave.

The light from the tinderbox flickered, casting swaying shadows on the surface of the altar.

After resting for about fifteen minutes, Li Bai struggled to sit up and looked at the third missing piece.

This is the last one.

This is also the most crucial point—located directly above the energy core of the altar. The damaged area is only the size of a fingernail, but it involves the convergence of nine energy channels. These nine channels are the backbone of the entire altar formation, like the aorta in the human body.

There can be no mistakes whatsoever.

Li Bai closed his eyes and regulated his breathing for a moment. His true energy in his dantian was almost depleted, like a well about to dry up. But he still had one last resort—the Azure Lotus Sword.

He drew the Azure Lotus Sword.

The sword glowed with a cool, bluish light in the darkness, and the lotus patterns on the blade seemed to come alive, slowly flowing. The hilt felt warm to the touch, like holding a piece of warm jade. Li Bai pointed the sword tip at the third chipped spot and channeled his true energy into the blade.

The blue light shone brightly.

It's not an attack, but a "guidance".

The essence of the Azure Lotus Sword's sword energy is highly condensed spiritual power, possessing the characteristics of "purification" and "penetration." What Li Bai needs to do is not to forcibly open up the gaps with the sword energy, but to use the sword energy as a "template" to guide the Crimson Dragon Blood Sand to form the most perfect pattern structure.

The pen tip was dipped in blood and sand again.

This time, the pen tip did not directly touch the bronze surface, but was suspended three inches above the defect.

Li Bai held a sword in his left hand and a pen in his right.

The azure light from the sword tip enveloped the damaged area, and nine energy channels were clearly visible under the azure light—they were not simple lines, but three-dimensional interwoven spiritual energy veins, like the roots of a large tree twisting and turning underground.

The pen tip begins to move.

It wasn't painted on bronze, but rather in the "air".

Guided by true essence, the blood-red sand flowed from the tip of the brush, but instead of falling, it hovered in mid-air, forming streaks of red light following the trajectory of the brush tip. These streaks were not two-dimensional patterns, but three-dimensional structural models—every turn, every intersection, and every arc precisely corresponded to the spatial relationships of the nine energy channels.

Li Bai was completely absorbed.

His eyes, hands, sword, pen, and all his mind were focused on this small space.

Blue and red light intertwined.

Sword energy resonates with spiritual power.

A faint humming sound filled the air, like countless strings vibrating simultaneously. The other patterns on the altar's surface also began to glow with golden light, echoing the blue and red light emanating from the surrounding area. The spiritual energy within the entire grotto began to flow, forming a faint vortex that stirred Li Bai's robes.

The last stroke.

The pen tip traced a perfect closed loop in the air.

The red light trail model, suspended in mid-air, suddenly contracted, transforming into a beam of red light that precisely landed in the damaged area. The bronze surface glowed with a dazzling red light, and the nine energy channels trembled simultaneously, as spiritual power surged forth like a flood, pouring into this newly formed "core node."

Successful.

Li Bai put away his pen and sword, staggered back two steps, and leaned against the stone wall.

He was drenched in sweat, his pale white scholar's robe clinging to his body, cool and sticky. His arms were so weak he could barely lift them, his lower abdomen felt empty, and even standing was a struggle. But he looked at the altar and smiled.

The three missing sections on the top of the altar have disappeared.

In its place were three intricate and beautiful red veined nodes. They blended perfectly with the surrounding golden veins, with spiritual energy flowing smoothly within them, and the entire altar surface shimmered with a faint golden-red halo, as if it were breathing.

Repair complete.

hundred percent.

Li Bai rested for half an hour before regaining some strength. He walked to the altar and placed the jade talisman of the Western Mausoleum Divine Kingdom into the recess. The jade talisman shimmered with a blue light, blending with the golden-red halo of the altar, causing the entire grotto to tremble slightly and ripples to spread across the space like water.

It lasted for three breaths, then subsided.

enough.

Li Bai took out the jade talisman, and the halo slowly dimmed. The altar returned to calm, but the feeling of "completeness" was still clearly perceptible. It was now a teleportation array that could be activated at any time. Although its range was small and its duration short, it was enough to create chaos, and enough... for him to take a gamble.

***

Before dawn, Li Bai returned to his secret hideout near Qingwei Temple.

This was an abandoned local temple, hidden in a mountain valley, surrounded by overgrown weeds. Duan Qiniang had been waiting there, her eyes red and swollen from a sleepless night. When she saw Li Bai stagger in, she rushed forward to help him up.

"Young master, you..."

"It's nothing, I'm just tired." Li Bai waved his hand and sat down next to the dilapidated offering table.

Duan Qiniang brought over hot water and dry rations. Li Bai drank a few sips of water and ate some bread, and his pale face regained some color. He took out a few items from his pocket and spread them on the offering table.

Three pieces of silk cloth.

The first map depicts a simplified map of Chang'an's terrain—main streets, the location of the palace, the topography of Leyouyuan, and several "best routes of movement" marked in red. These routes avoid the main imperial guard deployment points and utilize cover such as walls, ditches, and forests.

The second image is a detailed structural diagram of the underground grottoes of Xuandu Temple, marking the location of the altar, energy nodes, and several emergency exits.

The third one is blank.

Li Bai picked up the third piece of silk, dipped it in ink, and began to paint. He painted slowly but steadily. The lines were simple yet precise, outlining the contours of the mountains and rivers of Sichuan—the approximate locations of Qingcheng Mountain, Emei Mountain, and the Shu Mountain Secret Realm, as well as several "potential safe points" marked with special symbols.

After finishing the drawing, he took out a small cloth bag.

Inside were twenty taels of silver, five low-grade spirit stones, and three pills sealed with wax—a hemostatic pill, a qi-restoring pill, and a poison-repelling pill.

"Seventh Sister".

Li Bai raised his head and looked at Duan Qiniang.

The morning light streamed through the window of the dilapidated temple, illuminating his face. You could see the bloodshot eyes and weariness in them, as well as an unwavering determination.

"Keep these safe."

He folded the three pieces of silk cloth neatly and pushed them, along with the small cloth bag, in front of Duan Qiniang.

Duan Qiniang's hands were trembling.

"Young master, what's wrong with you...?"

"Listen to me." Li Bai's voice was calm, yet carried a resolute force. "Tomorrow is the investiture ceremony. I will go to Leyouyuan to do what I must do. If I do not return in three days, or if any major upheaval occurs in Chang'an—such as palace intrigue, mutiny, or fire—don't worry about anything. Immediately take these things and leave Chang'an."

He pointed to the silk cloth: "Follow the route on the first map to leave the city, but don't go through the city gate. Go through the drainage tunnel marked here. After leaving the city, go to Shu. The markings on the third map indicate potentially safe places. When you arrive in Shu, find a place called 'Qingcheng Mountain,' and ask a woodcutter surnamed 'Zhao' at the foot of the mountain. Show him the second map, and he will understand."

Duan Qiniang's tears fell: "Young master, what are you doing? Why... why does it sound like you're making your final arrangements..."

"Because this is what will happen afterward." Li Bai smiled, a smile tinged with bitterness and relief. "Seventh Sister, you've helped me a lot, and I'm eternally grateful. But this matter is my own personal tribulation, and it shouldn't involve you. This silver and spirit stones are enough for you to live comfortably in Shu for a few years. The pills are for emergencies, so keep them safe."

He paused, his voice lowering slightly: "If possible... perhaps someone will find you someday based on the markings on these silks. When that happens, tell them everything you know. About me, about the altar, about... the Western Mausoleum Divine Kingdom."

Duan Qiniang burst into tears.

She gripped Li Bai's sleeve, her fingers turning white with pressure: "Young master, I don't want any of this. I just want you to come back safely! We can go together, right now, away from Chang'an, to Shu, to anywhere..."

"You can't leave." Li Bai gently pried her fingers apart. "There are some things that must be done. There are some people that must be seen. There are some words that must be said."

He stood up and walked to the entrance of the dilapidated temple.

Daylight had broken. The distant outline of Chang'an was faintly visible in the morning mist, the eaves and corners of the palace reflecting the rising sun, shimmering with golden light. That was the center of power, and the place he would go tomorrow.

"Seventh Sister, remember my words." Li Bai didn't turn around. "If I don't hear from you in three days, leave immediately. Don't look back, don't hesitate."

Duan Qiniang knelt on the ground, her tears wetting the silk cloth in her hand.

She knew she couldn't persuade him anymore.

This man's resolve was as unwavering as a mountain.

***

The night before the investiture ceremony.

Li Bai returned to his room at Qingwei Temple.

He didn't light a lamp, but by the moonlight, he placed the Azure Lotus Sword and the Broken Azure Nether Sword on the table. The two swords were placed side by side; the Azure Lotus Sword gleamed with a cold, clear light, while the Broken Sword lay silent and dim. Li Bai reached out and ran his fingers over the blades.

The Azure Lotus Sword felt warm to the touch, and the lotus pattern on its blade glowed slightly, as if in response.

The broken sword was cold, and the cracks on its blade remained menacing.

Li Bai closed his eyes and began to regulate his breathing.

The true essence in his dantian slowly recovered, like water seeping back from a dried-up riverbed. He circulated the mental cultivation method of the Azure Lotus Sword Manual, and spiritual energy gathered from all directions, seeping through his skin into his meridians, transforming into pale golden true essence, and pouring into his dantian.

It's slow, but very steady.

Time passes little by little.

When the moon was high in the sky, Li Bai opened his eyes.

He had reached his peak condition—not physically, as days of exhaustion could not be fully recovered from; but mentally. All distracting thoughts were eliminated, all hesitations were cut off, and only one thought remained in his mind, one goal.

He walked to the window and opened it.

The myriad lights of Chang'an City were all within sight.

Those were countless families, countless ordinary yet warm nights. Smoke curled from chimneys, candlelight flickered, and the occasional laughter of children drifted through the air. Further away, the palace was brightly lit, like a lurking beast awaiting tomorrow's grand celebration.

Li Bai gazed at the lights and murmured to himself.

Yu Huan, regardless of success or failure, this is my last gamble for you, and for myself.

If fate is truly unavoidable...

He didn't continue.

Her gaze, however, was as firm as a cold star, reflecting the myriad lights of Chang'an City, and also the face of the woman named Yang Xiaohuan a thousand years later.

Two lifetimes as a human, three lifetimes of love and tribulations.

Tomorrow, we'll settle everything at once.