My Journey to Immortality Begins with Hunting-Chapter 145 – The Carpenter’s Workshop - Part 1

Night fell.

With no villages ahead and no inns behind. The moon hung high overhead, and in the barren wilderness, a thick fog drifted across the ground, making it hard to see the road.

Yet on this lonely stretch, a horse-drawn carriage continued onward. Concerned about the weather, the driver slowed the horses, spoke briefly to the passengers behind the curtains, then stopped and tied the carriage to a leafless old tree.

When the carriage curtain lifted, Li Yuan glanced around. Winter nights were foggy enough; it was even denser here in the mountains.

“Let’s just spend the night here,” he said.

“Yes, sir,” the driver, Wang San, replied. He worked for Xue Ning—not a martial artist, but a good, reliable man.

Before long, Li Yuan and Wang San started a bonfire together, with Tang Nian helping on the side.

Crackle! Pop! Crackle! A puppet brought over piles of firewood while Tang Nian tossed the sticks, one by one, into the flames.

“Sir, Young Lady, let me do it,” Wang San said with a shy smile. “You should rest.”

Li Yuan shook his head. “Another pair of hands gets it done faster. Let’s just do it together.”

“If you insist...” Wang San scratched his head awkwardly, thinking to himself how kind the master was.

“How much farther until Flowerpath County?” Li Yuan asked casually. He only had three birds under his control, each stationed somewhere important—one at the mass grave in case of trouble, one at Antelope Pass to guard against outside threats, and one at the Hundred Lotus Manor to watch for surprises. With none of them free, he had only a rough idea of how far they’d traveled.

Wang San, familiar with the route, answered, “We should arrive by late afternoon tomorrow.”

A while later, Li Yuan and Tang Nian ate a simple dinner, then climbed back into the carriage. Out in the wilderness, there was no place to bathe, and they had to find some remote spot behind the trees even to relieve themselves.

As the night deepened, all went still save for the crackling of the fire. Tang Nian, wrapped in a blanket, dozed off with her puppet beside her. After a while, noticing Li Yuan hadn’t come in yet, she peered out through the carriage curtains.

Under the star-filled sky, the youth, more like an older brother than a father figure, sat by the fading fire. He absently poked at the embers with a dead branch, lost in thought.

Everyone’s feelings were interconnected, after all. Tang Nian had lost her biological father, but she could sense Li Yuan’s genuine care for her. Though her emotions were still a bit tangled, she wanted to do something, anything, to show her gratitude.

“Godfather,” she called softly, “it’s cold. You should rest soon.”

“Go ahead and sleep,” Li Yuan answered, glancing over at her. “We’ll have to make do tonight, but tomorrow you can finally take a bath.”

“I don’t mind the outdoors,” Tang Nian said, pulling the blanket tighter. “But please don’t stay up too late.”

With that, she let the curtain drop. In the darkness, she pressed her small hand against the puppet’s cold, metallic chest and murmured, “Daddy, I promise I’ll find you an even stronger body someday.”

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The group set off again at daybreak. Partway through their journey, they were ambushed by a gang of vicious bandits, one of whom was ninth rank. Li Yuan intended to dispatch them with a few swift strikes; these outlaws had been terrorizing the region long enough.

Unexpectedly, Tang Nian spoke up, “Let me handle it.”

Li Yuan agreed, thinking she simply wanted practice. But her approach was far more direct than he expected. Without stepping off the carriage or even looking outside, Tang Nian commanded her six-bladed puppet to mow down the bandits, leaving no survivors. It was a bloody scene, with body parts scattered across the ground.

Wang San watched in terror, trembling at the ruthless efficiency.

Li Yuan felt a pang of regret; he never intended for a 12-year-old girl to carry out such a brutal task.

Sensing his thoughts, Tang Nian said quietly, “I’m not some greenhouse flower, Godfather.”

“You’re still young,” Li Yuan replied.

“I’m not that young,” she insisted, then added softly “but...thank you. I’ll try to keep your words in mind.”

Tang Nian turned away, leaning against the puppet that had climbed back into the carriage, a stubborn and slightly rebellious air about her.

Li Yuan chose not to press the issue and changed the subject. “Back at the Orange Blossom Sect, did you make any new friends?”

He’d brought Tang Nian along hoping she wouldn’t become too withdrawn. She’d lost touch with her old playmates Xiao Sheng and Niu Niu, so he’d left her free to mingle with the younger crowd at the Orange Blossom Sect. They shared a natural interest in each other’s crafts—Tang Nian’s puppetry and their poison, concealed weapons, and mechanical devices. Indeed, poison, hidden weapons, puppets, and traps—all tools of an assassin—shared many similarities. Combined, they could create truly fearsome methods of killing.

Continuing on their journey, Li Yuan and Tang Nian passed the time with idle conversation. It turned out that the He Family’s previous attempt to wipe out the Tang Family was rooted in their desire as assassins to harness the power of puppetry.

Cradling her large puppet in her arms, Tang Nian spoke in a cool, quiet voice. “I did make one friend, Liu Xiaoyu. She always came looking for me. I ask her about poisons; she pretends to ask me about puppetry.”

Li Yuan raised an eyebrow. “Pretends?”

Tang Nian hesitated for a moment before continuing, “What she really wants is information about you, Godfather. She likes you. She wants to be my...uh, little mom.”

Li Yuan blinked. “Wait, she actually said that?”

“No,” Tang Nian said. “That’s just what I think.”

Li Yuan ruffled her hair gently. “Don’t go getting carried away. Liu Xiaoyu is probably around 18 years old, so she should be like a big sister to you.”

He himself had already reached sixth rank and couldn’t have children with normal people anymore. He was perfectly content in his current marriage, with all his bonus stat points tied to Yan Yu, so he wasn’t considering another relationship right now. As for what might happen in a hundred years, well...he’d worry about it then.

They chatted off and on, letting the small talk break up the monotony of travel. Soon enough, they both fell silent. Tang Nian leaned on her puppet, eyes far too thoughtful for her age—clearly mulling over calculations related to her craft. Meanwhile, Li Yuan mulled over his idea of a visualization aid for his life chronicle, uncertain if the major clans and sects actually used something like it. Regardless, he intended to create one of his own that would align with his personal life chronicle.

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Delayed by the bandit attack, the group didn’t reach the eastern gate of Flowerpath County until after dark, and the township gates had already been sealed. Along the ramparts, a few flickering braziers lit the patrolling guards, casting long, shifting shadows. In addition to the usual sentries, two figures dressed in white sword-robes—both from the Frost Sword Sect—were also keeping watch; one a young girl, the other middle-aged.

“I heard the Blood Blade Patriarch is really young,” the girl said, intrigued.

“Young or not, he’s definitely over 50. You’d better call him Grandfather,” the older woman said.

“But sixth rank martial artists hardly seem to age,” the girl replied with a sigh. “Do they ever grow old at all?”

“From what I’ve heard,” the woman mused, “they don’t begin to age until the very end of their lifespan.”

As they chatted, a carriage pulled up beneath the walls, and a clear voice rang out from inside, “A person calling themselves Li Yuan has arrived.”

“That must be the Blood Blade Patriarch!” the older woman exclaimed. She hurried off with quick footsteps, directing the town guards to open the gate.

Moments later, the gate creaked open, and the two women led the carriage inside. Li Yuan disembarked, and both greeted him respectfully.

“Patriarch.”

“No need for formalities,” Li Yuan said. “What are your names?”

“I’m Han Ying,” the older woman answered.

“Pang Qian,” added the girl.

With that, Han Ying inclined her head politely. “Patriarch, if you’ll follow us...”

Li Yuan waved a hand. “No need for any welcome banquet, and I won’t require personal attendants. I’d like to meet Miss Pang Yuanhua.”

He had done a little homework beforehand. He knew that the Frost Sword Sect’s current leader was Pang Yuanhua, the young strategist who had repelled the Fragrant General’s assault by trickery. She possessed certain unique abilities, even discerning the spiritual connection in Li Yuan’s white finch.

Han Ying suddenly looked uneasy and lowered her gaze. Pang Qian, on the other hand, blurted, “Patriarch, my Aunt Pang is missing. We’re all searching for her.”

“Pang Qian!” Han Ying scolded, then turned apologetically to Li Yuan. “My apologies. This child doesn’t know when to hold her tongue.”

Li Yuan regarded the older swordswoman. “Why should her words be kept secret?”

Flustered, Han Ying bowed. “Well, to be honest, Lady Pang was our point of contact with the Blood Blade Sect. But now that she’s gone, our life chronicle has vanished with her. Our sect master intended to explain everything once you arrived, but this girl blurted it out first... We’re truly sorry.”

“Who’s running the sect now?” Li Yuan asked, somewhat intrigued.

“That would be our sect master, Pang Dantai,” Han Ying replied.

Li Yuan’s expression darkened slightly, though he said nothing beyond a neutral, “I see.”