The next day.
Morning light, soft and golden, poured down upon the capital. Within the city, early risers had already begun their daily routines.
Shops run by traveling merchants opened their doors early, welcoming guests from all directions. Outside the blacksmith's forge, a broad-shouldered man pushed open his shop door. As usual, he began tending the furnace. His gaze swept across the street idly—until he paused, startled.
"Huh? When did a medical hall open over there? Wasn't that Old Li's general store?"
The man had lived here for decades and knew his neighbors well. That newly opened clinic had clearly been Old Li's shop just yesterday. Overnight, it had somehow transformed?
Creaaak.
The door to the clinic swung open. A silver-haired, handsome young man stepped out slowly. Sensing the blacksmith's gaze, he turned his head and offered a gentle smile.
The blacksmith blinked. He returned the smile instinctively, though a trace of doubt lingered in his heart.
That silver-haired youth was none other than Chen Xiaoming.
Since he had chosen to lie low here, Chen Xiaoming figured he might as well find something to do. Cultivating origin comprehension, understanding the essence of his bloodline, and accumulating experience—those things went without saying.
But more than that, Chen Xiaoming still couldn't let go of the concept of the Origin of Karma.
Thinking of how Old Devil Wang pursued the Dao through mortality, Chen Xiaoming—who had time to spare—decided he might as well try it for himself.
He had already comprehended the Grand Daos of Space and Time. If he could add Karma to the mix, he could truly make his name infamous across the Myriad Realms.
As for why he opened a medical clinic? Simple.
He was trying to follow Old Devil Wang's path to enlightenment.
To understand the divine, one must first return to the mundane. Only by shedding immortal essence could one pursue the Dao in its purest form.
He picked up a reclining chair and lay back casually, closing his eyes, resting in serene silence.
Time passed slowly. The neighboring residents gradually caught wind of the story behind the new clinic.
When they heard someone had paid a hefty sum to buy the place from Old Li, they looked at Chen Xiaoming with a hint of pity in their eyes.
These were honest, simple folk. While the capital might be grand, this was a remote corner with little foot traffic. Paying that kind of price for the shop? It was a loss.
Especially seeing how Chen Xiaoming was just lounging outside in the early morning, many could only chuckle and shake their heads.
Creaaak.
The wooden side door next to the clinic opened. A figure in white stepped out—it was Wang Lin.
He had noticed the change next door from the moment it happened. Now, seeing Chen Xiaoming lounging in a recliner, he found the man harder to understand than ever.
"Yo, Brother Wang, morning!"
Chen Xiaoming opened his eyes and smiled as he greeted Wang Lin.
Pursuing enlightenment was one thing—but choosing to become neighbors with Wang Lin? That was a little indulgence of Chen Xiaoming's own amusement.
"I'm Chen Xiaoming. I'll be in your care from now on!"
He stood up from his recliner and walked over, gesturing toward the clinic with a light smile that felt like spring wind melting snow.
"…Wang Lin," came the brief reply.
Wang Lin frowned slightly. Deep inside, he couldn't shake the feeling that this man before him was elusive and enigmatic—no one he had ever met gave him such a sense of unpredictability.
Subconsciously, he grew more cautious of Chen Xiaoming.
Their gazes met. Chen Xiaoming soon withdrew his eyes—he had no interest in making enemies with Wang Lin. Nor did he have any reason to. If anything, considering Wang Lin would eventually comprehend the Origin of Karma, it was only natural that Chen Xiaoming would seek a future opportunity to engage in Dao-discussion with him.
After a few casual exchanges, Chen Xiaoming returned to his chair, lying back down, eyes closed once more.
Wang Lin, meanwhile, returned to his own shop and resumed carving his wood sculptures.
Thus, the morning passed quietly, with Chen Xiaoming napping out of sheer boredom. A few curious souls passed by, but upon seeing the "clinic" manned solely by a resting youth, they could only shake their heads and leave.
By noon, Chen Xiaoming glanced at the sky. Reminding himself that he was now a mortal, he stood and made his way to a nearby tavern.
"Boss, a jug of your finest wine and a few dishes."
He stepped into the tavern and spoke in a relaxed tone, choosing a seat by the window.
Tossing a silver ingot to the innkeeper, the man grinned and bustled away cheerfully.
Before long, the food and wine were served.
"Please enjoy, honored guest," the waiter said with a courteous smile before departing.
Chen Xiaoming took a sip of the aged wine, picked up his chopsticks, and popped a piece of beef into his mouth. The flavor was unexpectedly rich.
In his previous life, he'd longed to experience the rough life of the jianghu—drinking heavily, eating heartily, living freely.
But fate played tricks. He hadn't walked into the martial world, but instead… had become a sapling.
There was no hearty meat or wine in those days—only sunlight, photosynthesis, and respiration.
Now, thinking back, it had been many years since he'd last eaten a proper meal.
A jug of fine wine granted him a fleeting reprieve from immortality. Through the window, he gazed at the clinic across the street. Pedestrians came and went, but no one entered. Still, he was content to do as he pleased.
Time slipped by. As sunset painted the sky, Chen Xiaoming's figure emerged from the tavern, swaying slightly with tipsy ease.
He rose with the dusk, returned with the sunset.
Back inside the clinic, he locked the door, lay on the bed, and though his body showed signs of drink, his eyes were astonishingly clear.
Three months later.
The quiet street hadn't changed much since Chen Xiaoming's arrival. Neighbors slowly grew accustomed to the eccentric doctor in their midst.
"Uncle Chen! Uncle Chen! I brought the wine you asked for!"
One early morning, a boy named Huzi ran toward the clinic with a jug of fruit wine. He called out softly, slipping the wine into a corner behind the door.
"My dad said drinking too much isn't good for your health…"
He hesitated, clearly concerned, but still chose to voice his worry.
"Don't listen to your dad. Between him and me, who's the doctor here, huh?"
With a casual wave of his hand, Chen Xiaoming retrieved the fruit wine without a shred of shame. Compared to the tavern's strong liquor, this mild fruit wine suited him far better.
In these three months, he'd grown familiar with the locals. Especially with the blacksmith, Da Niu, and his family. Once, Da Niu had injured himself working, and Chen Xiaoming treated him with little effort. Since then, the locals had come to realize that while Chen Xiaoming might not look dependable, he was the real deal, someone with genuine skill beneath the carefree exterior.
"Uhh... Uncle Chen, I'll be off now," said the boy Huzi, scratching his head. He was starting to realize that maybe Uncle Chen had a point. After all, Chen Xiaoming was the actual healer, while his father was just a blacksmith. Maybe his father had been mistaken.
Ah, whatever.
Huzi gave a quick farewell and darted into Wang Lin's shop nearby.
Chen Xiaoming glanced his way, then chuckled softly, unfazed. He leaned back in his recliner, took a small sip of his fruit wine, and let out a contented sigh. After several months of this quiet, laid-back life, he was finally beginning to feel... a little more human.
Time passes easily, aging only the mortal man.
The years slip by unnoticed,
And before the evening pavilion,
Even the spring-kissed robe and falling twilight haze
cannot rouse one from the wine-dream.
-------
Want to read ahead of schedule? Head over to my Patreon ——— patreon(.)com/igotneonlight [remove the parenthesis ( )]