Chapter Seven: The Princess of Donglai

No one knew how much time had passed before the woman in green slowly opened her eyes.

Ye Mo was just fixing his gaze on the Bloodred Vine in her arms, pondering how much he ought to ask for it.

The woman in green suddenly noticed a young martial artist with a longsword strapped to his back sitting across from her. Startled, she sensed something amiss at her chest, and when she glanced down at her ample bosom, she saw that her pink binding cloth was undone.

“You scoundrel! How dare you violate my honor! I’ll kill you for this!” she cried out in a mixture of shock and rage, grabbing the sharp sword at her side and trying to rise.

But a wave of excruciating pain coursed through her chest, leaving her limp on the ground, nearly fainting again.

Lying there helpless, she discovered a generous amount of cool green herbal poultice smeared over her chest.

It all came back to her: the vicious battle with the black-clad swordsman in the forest that afternoon, the grievous wounds, the loss of consciousness. Now, she had awakened in a cave, her injuries treated with herbs. Clearly, it was this ordinary-looking young martial artist before her who had rescued her, undoing her bindings to tend to her wounds.

“Was it you who saved me?” she finally asked, her voice tinged with resignation and a trace of wounded pride as she looked at Ye Mo. Judging by his plain clothes and unremarkable looks, she found herself involuntarily dissatisfied.

“Mm,” Ye Mo replied, momentarily at a loss for words. The process of saving her had been awkward enough; best to say as little as possible.

“Thank you,” she murmured, a complex expression on her face.

“You’re welcome,” Ye Mo answered calmly.

“I am Mo Ling. May I ask your name?”

“Ye Mo.”

A long, awkward silence ensued, lasting the time it takes to burn an incense stick. The atmosphere inside the cave was unbearably tense.

“Er…” After a while, Ye Mo could no longer hold back. He realized he’d be at a disadvantage if he remained silent. “Miss Mo Ling, I used my own herbs to treat your wounds. Shouldn’t you give me some compensation?”

Mo Ling was taken aback. So, all this time, Ye Mo had been thinking about payment for the herbs. How petty, she thought.

“But I have no silver with me,” she replied.

“I don’t want silver. I saved your life, and I used up a whole packet of healing herbs—it should be enough to exchange for the Bloodred Vine you’re holding. I don’t like owing favors, nor do I like being owed. Let’s call it even—neither of us in debt to the other,” Ye Mo said, pointing at the vine in her arms.

“But I desperately need that vine! I’m in the middle stages of body refinement and I need it to advance to the late stage!” Mo Ling protested.

She knew full well that without Ye Mo’s help she would be dead, let alone still possess the vine. But her situation was dire; she truly needed it to improve her strength.

“You have six inches in your hand. Give me four and keep two for yourself,” Ye Mo bargained.

“…Fine,” Mo Ling finally agreed after a long silence.

She cut off four inches of the Bloodred Vine and tossed it to Ye Mo, keeping less than two inches for herself. Gravely injured, she knew she would not be able to keep the vine if Ye Mo had wanted to take it by force. Yet he made no move to exploit her further, for which she was secretly grateful. Had her attacker been the black-clad swordsman, she would rather have died to preserve her honor.

“We’re even now,” Ye Mo said, accepting the four inches of vine with satisfaction and leaning back against the cave wall to rest. Together with the three inches he’d taken from the black-clad swordsman, he now had seven inches in total.

Ye Mo was secretly delighted. For the price of a packet of healing herbs worth a few silver taels, he had obtained a seventh-grade body refining herb worth several gold taels—a highly profitable trade. Once his internal injuries improved, he could begin body refinement and attempt to break through to the seventh layer.

“Did you also end up on this island after your sea vessel was caught in a storm?” Mo Ling asked, trying to dispel the awkward silence.

“Yes, our ship was caught in a violent storm the night before last and drifted here. There are probably many other martial artists on the island. I have no idea how to get off,” Ye Mo replied, helplessly.

“Where are you from?” she asked.

“I’m from Wu Kingdom. What about you?” Ye Mo was curious.

“I am Princess Mo Ling of Donglai Kingdom,” she announced, a note of pride in her voice.

“You’re a princess of Donglai? Then why do you look so destitute, and why were you being chased over a single body-refining herb?” Ye Mo doubted her story and gave her a skeptical glance.

“I set out with over twenty royal guards and several chests of treasure! When the ship sank, I was the only one to survive. The guards either drowned or disappeared, and all the treasure was lost at sea. I washed up on this desolate island with nothing but my sword. If my guards were still here, that black-clad man would have been skinned and quartered for daring to rob me!” Mo Ling pouted, her anger plain.

“You really are the princess of Donglai? Then what are you doing at sea? For someone like me, a minor martial artist with no future in Wu Kingdom, it made sense to gamble everything on an adventure in the Eastern Sea. But you—a noble princess, living in luxury, surrounded by fine horses and carriages—why risk your life at sea? Don’t you know how dangerous it is? Are you sure you’re not an impostor?” Ye Mo was genuinely puzzled.

“What would I gain by pretending to be a princess here? On this lonely island, it makes no difference! And I am not only a princess of Donglai—I am also the granddaughter of a cultivator in the Qi Refining stage. Unfortunately, my grandfather left to travel the Eastern Sea and never returned. I grew tired of the idle life of a peaceful princess, so I set out to seek him, hoping he would take me as his disciple and teach me the ways of cultivation. I want to become an immortal cultivator as powerful as my grandfather,” Mo Ling declared haughtily.

“Wait, your grandfather is a cultivator?” Ye Mo was truly astonished, sitting upright. In his eyes, being related to a cultivator was a hundred times more valuable than any royal title.

“Of course!” Mo Ling giggled at his surprise.

“That’s amazing! You must know a lot about cultivators, then!”

Ye Mo pressed her eagerly.

“Yes. When I was little, my grandfather used to tell me stories about the world of cultivation in the Eastern Sea. I know far more about cultivators than most martial artists,” Mo Ling nodded.

“The merchants claimed they knew the location of an immortal village on a spirit island in the Eastern Sea. Is it true?” Ye Mo asked quickly.

“There really are mysterious immortal villages in the Eastern Sea. Otherwise, why would anyone risk the storms to seek them out?” she replied.

“My grandfather told me these villages are the lowest tier of immortal cities, not ordinary settlements. They serve as the most important strongholds for cultivators. Immortal cities are divided into levels—village, town, city—each with vastly different populations, functions, and overall power, including alchemy and artifact forging.”

“Cultivators are generally divided into two types: city lords and wanderers.”

“The city lord is the master of the immortal city, possessing territory and power and serving as the leader of the cultivation world. In any immortal city, the city lord is usually the most powerful cultivator.”

“Wanderers have no city of their own. They may serve a city lord as subordinates, or they may travel freely among various immortal cities, answering to no one. Some organize trade guilds or professional associations to make their own way.”

“The so-called immortal villages the merchants spoke of are actually the lowest-tier immortal cities, built by cultivators in the Qi Refining stage. They have walls and defenses to keep out sea monsters and evil cultivators.”

“Even martial artists like us, if we are fortunate enough to find these villages, are allowed to enter. But for higher-level towns or cities, it’s nearly impossible for ordinary martial artists to get in—only cultivators are admitted.”

Mo Ling spoke with evident pride. Only someone like her, a true descendant of cultivators, could know such details; ordinary people at best had only heard rumors of immortal villages.

“So the immortal villages of the Eastern Sea really exist! As long as I keep searching, I might find one!” Ye Mo’s face lit up with excitement.

Even if cultivators looked down on him and refused to accept him as a disciple, it was still a hope, a goal to strive for. He had already sold the family home and set out in search of an immortal village; there was no turning back.

“Don’t be too happy yet,” Mo Ling warned, her face serious.

“Why not? If the villages exist, why are you so worried?” Ye Mo asked, puzzled.

“There’s a matter of life and death we must solve before seeking any immortal village,” she said solemnly.

“What is it?” Ye Mo had a bad feeling.

“My grandfather told me that sea monsters often appear on these islands. Especially at the end of each month, when the tides rise at night, sea monsters surge onto the islands with the waves, searching for food. The main function of the immortal cities is to defend against these sea monsters.”

“What? At the end of every month, the tides rise and sea monsters invade the islands?” Ye Mo was shocked. He immediately thought of the young demon crab he had encountered on the beach—not yet fully grown, and already he had barely survived. If more were to come, it would be a disaster.