Unintended Immortality
Chapter 544: The Drip Spring in the Heart of the Desert

Chapter 544: The Drip Spring in the Heart of the Desert

“Come down, Lady Calico.” Song You looked up at the calico cat perched atop the mound of earth.

“Alright!”

Though the mound was high, descending was no challenge.

The calico cat padded to the edge, peered down, then leaped. Using the protrusions in the earth for support, she bounced off them effortlessly, landing gracefully on the ground.

“So this is the soil we were looking for?” The cat tilted her head, staring up at Song You.

“Exactly.”

“And we didn’t even have to search for it?”

“Exactly.”

“Then the swallow doesn’t have to keep flying anymore,” she added, turning to the side. “Poor thing, he’s exhausted herself.”

“I wasn’t of much help...”

The swallow hung his head in shame.

“It was simply fate.” Song You smiled. “Fate didn’t lead us to an underground passage, but it saved us effort in another way. It’s just a different kind of experience.”

Hearing this, the swallow nodded, saying nothing more.

“Hmm...”

The cat stepped closer, lifting her head to gaze at the glowing red essence in Song You’s hands. The flickering light captivated her, washing away all other thoughts and worries. Her clear eyes reflected nothing but the crimson glow.

Without thinking, she rose onto her hind legs, extending her front paws. Though still over a chi away, she couldn't resist the urge to reach out, making grasping motions in the air.

Watching this, Song You chuckled and turned to the swallow.

“Sometimes, things are simple. They don't matter as much as we think they do. Overthinking only adds unnecessary burdens. Better to learn from Lady Calico. Carry less in your mind, care less about trivial things. When your heart is empty, clarity comes naturally. And with clarity, comes ease, comfort, and an open mind.”

The cat, hearing him speak of her, turned her head in confusion and stared at Song You. Seeing that he had no further words, she turned back and continued gazing at the red glow.

The swallow watched her too, lost in thought.

Lady Calico was, indeed, happy. And, indeed, she carried a rare kind of ease in her heart.

“It's just dust...”

“It's just rain...”

“It's just a bug...”

The swallow recalled Lady Calico’s words.

Not just these, there were many things she simply didn't care about. Hardships, failures... But as the swallow thought about it carefully, he realized it wasn’t just Lady Calico. Most people didn’t dwell on these things either.

So in the end, what did “caring” mean? If no one else was bothered, then wasn’t worrying about them just self-inflicted trouble?

This realization struck the swallow.

Lady Calico had been subtly influencing him. Otherwise, he might never have reached such a thought.

The swallow fell into silent contemplation, deep in thought.

Song You, too, lost his drowsiness. Sitting cross-legged, he focused on the fire-element spiritual resonance.

“Whoosh...”

A surge of red light erupted beneath him.

This fire-element spiritual resonance had formed in the northwest, belonging neither entirely to the west nor the north. If classified by the Five Elements, it undoubtedly fell under fire—blazing and restless. It embodied movement, force, acceleration, and destruction.

If left in its natural state, it would be as heavy as a mountain. It would be searing hot, its destructive power immense. Ordinary demons, deities, or cultivators wouldn’t dare approach, let alone touch or take it.

Simply getting too close might lead to spontaneous combustion from the sheer heat, or worse, its chaotic energy could disrupt their spiritual balance. It would cause loss of control, unstable power, cultivation collapse, and even rapid aging.

Yet now, it drifted lightly in the air like a feather, its aggressive nature entirely subdued. It had become docile, like a lantern illuminating the desert night, gently swaying with the breeze.

The crimson glow mingled with the stars and moon, casting light over a small patch of the vast desert.

This lonely group stood as the only figures in the endless sands.

But it was time to leave.

“Rustle...”

Song You took out the Yudi Jisheng, carefully turning its pages. The crisp, delicate sound of the paper filled the silence, stirring a sense of nostalgia within him.

Ten years.

Without realizing it, ten years had passed.

This very book—its pages had yellowed, weathered by time, sun, and wind. The paper had grown dry and brittle, fragile beneath his fingers, as though one careless motion could fold or tear a corner.

He flipped to the simple map.

Lady Calico, her gaze finally shifting from the fire essence, padded over and peeked at the book, her head tilting curiously.

The swallow, too, landed lightly on the Daoist’s shoulder. It then looked down at the map alongside them.

“Where are we going next?” The cat turned her head, staring unblinkingly at the Daoist.

Only the horse remained indifferent, lying silently on the Gobi Desert.

“Lady Calico, look at the grease stains you left from eating fish.” Song You brushed the book’s pages with the back of his hand, speaking helplessly.

“That’s not...”

The cat wanted to argue, but after sniffing the faint scent coming from the stain, she had to admit that it was indeed from the secret-recipe dried fish she had eaten earlier. Some crumbs must have fallen onto the book and, after being pressed between the pages for so long, left a small mark.

But she didn't care. Shaking her head nonchalantly, she simply muttered, “It’s just a grease stain.”

Song You chuckled, not pressing the matter.

The Great Yan map spread across the pages showed that they had already traveled more than half the journey—each of it filled with memories.

Now, all that remained was the vast Western Regions, which was enormous, covering an area equivalent to several prefectures in eastern Great Yan.

They had to keep going.

This land held the most expansive landscapes, breathtaking scenery, the Jiangnan beyond the frontier, the dreamlike prosperity of the Silk Road, and exotic cultures. How could they miss it?

However, as they traveled further west, language would become an issue.

Beyond that, only the southwestern prefectures remained.

“Yunzhou...”

Coincidentally, the grease stain left by Lady Calico had landed just south of Yunzhou.

“Qiyun Mountain...” Song You murmured to himself before turning to the cat. “How do you wish to travel?”

“I’ll follow you.”

“And what about Yan An?”

“I only seek paths and streams for you, sir.”

“...”

Very well, everyone had made their decisions.

With a soft thud, Song You closed the book. His mind was set.

A faint streak of pale white appeared at the horizon, gradually brightening the Gobi Desert, dimming the glow of the spiritual resonance.

The first rays of morning sunlight kissed the highest peaks of the rugged earthen mounds.

This was the coldest moment of the night, so much so that his hands and feet had already turned icy. But it was the perfect time to set out.

Song You carefully stored the spiritual resonance in a pouch, placing it alongside the other three essences. Then, securing his belongings onto the horse’s back, he took out a roasted flatbread and a dried fish for breakfast.

Eating as he walked, he headed toward the distant horizon.

***

The merchant had returned from the Western Regions.

It was truly a strange experience.

After traveling westward for two thousand li, he finally left behind the great drought. Suddenly, the scenery transformed into a pleasant spring landscape. Not only was the oppressive heat completely gone, but there was even a lingering chill, like the last bite of winter.

After that long and grueling two-thousand-mile journey, the moment he saw the first rushing stream of melting snow, the emotion was indescribable.

And beyond that, there were even snow-capped mountains.

Thinking back on the road he had taken, the merchant knew that if he hadn’t met that Daoist and received water from him, he might not have made it out alive.

But what had become of that Daoist?

A hint of worry crept into the merchant’s heart. Yet, he was a merchant. Since he had come all this way to trade, he had to return.

That road had to be traveled once more. And he needed to hurry.

Once summer arrived, the heat would become even more unbearable, so intense that even finding shade might not be enough to prevent death.

The very thought of it sent a shiver through him.

Not daring to linger, the merchant quickly exchanged his silks for spices. He prepared an even larger supply of water, and set off on his return journey.

Along the way, he encountered bones of the starved and even dying travelers. Logically, there was no reason to help them.

After all, how could he save others when he could barely ensure his own survival? He had steeled himself for such moments, prepared to look on with indifference.

But no matter how firm his resolve, he couldn’t shake the memory of that Daoist—the man who had gone days without drinking yet still offered him water without hesitation.

Even the hardest heart has its moments of weakness.

And so, as he traveled, he found himself giving away mouthfuls of life-saving water—just a little, here and there. And every time he did, he cursed himself for being foolish.

Because of this, his already limited water supply grew even more scarce. Each time he stopped to rest, he had to spend extra time and effort searching for more drinking water.

Yet, the drought seemed worse than before, far worse than he had anticipated.

By the time he crossed the vast, endless Gobi Desert and reached the hottest part of the journey, he was already feeling lightheaded. His steps were unsteady, and thirst was clawing at his throat.

And there was no water to be found. No place to buy it.

It was as if he had been thrown back to where he started.

“This is bad...” A deep sense of dread settled in his chest.

Yet even that dread felt hazy. He knew, rationally, that the situation was dire.

And yet, against all logic, he couldn't help but cling to a sliver of hope.

Last time, there had been a Daoist. Last time, he had been given water. Would there be another miracle this time? Who would come to his rescue this time?

As he trudged forward, someone approached from ahead. It was a man with the features of the Great Yan people, his lips still moist. Seeing that the merchant seemed on the verge of collapse, he took the initiative to speak, “Sir, hold on a little longer. Just ahead, in Mount Huayan, there's water. There’s the Drip Spring, and there’ll be plenty to drink.”

Drip Spring?

What was that?

The merchant could no longer open his mouth or utter a word.

His face had become so gaunt that he barely looked human. Summoning the last of his strength, he forced his stiff body to move forward. Slowly turning his head, he cast a doubtful gaze at the man who had spoken.

It sounded like a spring formed from dripping water.

Could it be that cracks in Mount Huayan were dripping water?

But in this parched land, how could Mount Huayan produce water? Where would this so-called Drip Spring come from?

Step by step, he moved forward. Though unsure if the man had spoken the truth, a sliver of hope flickered within him.

He had no idea how far he had walked. Just as his strength gave out and his consciousness blurred, he suddenly saw a gathering of people and animals ahead. Raising his head, he beheld a shallow, crystal-clear lake shimmering under the sunlight.

Countless merchants, travelers, and wandering commoners crowded its shores—drinking, scooping water, leading camels to replenish their supplies. Each person carried an air of solemn reverence.

“...”

The merchant stood frozen in place.

The sun could scorch the land dry. Where had this spring come from?

Staggering forward, he all but collapsed at the lakeside. He drank until his thirst was quenched, then lay on the ground to rest. Only then did a conversation drift into his ears.

“Sir, you may not know this, but this spring is called Drip Spring. It wasn’t formed by water dripping from the mountain. Long ago, an immortal passed through this place. Seeing the suffering of all living beings, he was moved with compassion. So he sat here and cast his magic, enduring the scorching sun for days without leaving.

“When he finally rose, he took his water pouch and let a single drop fall to the ground. The moment that drop touched the earth, it transformed into this very lake.”