Chapter Two: Brothers

In the ancient city of Old River in Jizhou, southern Xinjiang, the head of the Che family, Che Hongshi, had two sons: the elder, Che Yeming, and the younger, Che Wuyou. Though the younger appeared dull and simple, the elder had shown extraordinary promise from the moment of his birth.

Twelve years ago, on the day Che Yeming was born, Jizhou had just weathered a thunderstorm. After the rain, the vast sky was washed clean, a deep blue unmarred by a single cloud. The newly risen sun cast its slanting rays, not unbearably hot but laced with the coolness of fresh rain. A brilliant rainbow arched across the heavens, bearing the sun as if a bridge of colors stretched from the horizon to Jizhou, spanning to the Old River City.

At that very moment, Che Yeming came into the world. Seeing their beloved child safely delivered, Che Hongshi and his wife Ye Hongyu were overjoyed, unable to contain their delight as they gazed lovingly at the newborn, their own flesh and blood. Yet, they noticed Che Yeming was unlike any ordinary infant—he did not cry or fuss, but instead looked around with eyes bright as stars, brimming with curiosity as he took in his surroundings and examined his parents.

Che Hongshi glanced at his wife, still busy coaxing the child, then at the serene, lively-eyed Che Yeming. Something felt amiss—was this truly how a newborn should behave? Why did he neither cry nor fuss, but rather gaze with an almost contemplative air? Yes, that was it—contemplation.

Even with his worldly experience, Che Hongshi had never seen such a demeanor in a newborn. He considered many possibilities and his face grew troubled; could something be wrong with the child?

Ye Hongyu, after a while, noticed the child’s expression remained unchanged, cold and distant, his gaze occasionally unfamiliar as he stared intently at them, as if scrutinizing them. She looked up at her husband’s furrowed brow, then at her oddly peculiar son, and her own joyful expression slowly solidified.

She opened her mouth, wanting to say something to her husband, but found herself at a loss. For a moment, the family of three simply stared at one another in silence, an odd atmosphere gradually pervading the air.

Just as Che Hongshi and his wife’s brows knitted ever tighter, Che Yeming’s small face suddenly broke into a “human-like” smile. Then, in a milky voice, he said, “Excellent, excellent, I am finally born safely. This feeling is truly wonderful.”

This utterance startled both parents. No newborn could speak so fluently—at most, they might babble “father” or “mother,” but to speak so intelligibly was unheard of, an occurrence beyond all imagination.

They exchanged glances, each seeing the shock in the other's eyes. Fortunately, their cultivation was considerable; though faced with such a bizarre event, they managed not to flee in panic. The birth of a child was an occasion for joy in any family, and for those who cultivated immortality, even more so. Yet what had happened in the Che family was simply too astonishing.

Luckily, the child behaved properly thereafter, doing nothing else outlandish. After all, he was their own flesh and blood. At first, Che Hongshi and his wife felt uneasy about Che Yeming’s origin, unsure how to regard him—he was simply too extraordinary. They left him mostly in the care of the servants.

But as time passed, Che Yeming proved himself exceptionally clever and lovable, delighting all who met him. As for his peculiar behavior at birth, it was attributed to his innate talent.

Che Yeming possessed extraordinary aptitude. Whatever cultivation method or weapon he was taught, he mastered after seeing it only once. In the path of cultivation, he advanced at lightning speed, renowned within thousands of miles as a prodigy of immortality. Che Hongshi, seeing his son’s achievements, treasured him as if he were a priceless gem. He spared no effort in nurturing him, and whatever Che Yeming wished to do, he was granted—no matter how excessive the request, Che Hongshi felt no displeasure, but instead sought every way to fulfill his son’s desires.

Even when Che Yeming caused trouble, Che Hongshi could not bear to rebuke him, merely dismissing it with a smile. Sometimes, the chief steward would offer a word of caution, but Che Hongshi would reply, “Yeming is so clever and insightful—our guidance may have no positive effect, and might even constrain him, hindering his growth.”

Che Hongshi often sighed quietly, “With a son like this, what more could I ask for?” Such was his affection and pride for Che Yeming.

Heaven’s way is unjust, yet fair. Ordinary people, though lacking longevity and power, are blessed with many offspring and need not fear the extinction of their line. Immortal cultivators, however, find it difficult to bear children, for cultivation defies nature; some may have only one child in their lifetime, and the more powerful the cultivator, the fewer their descendants.

Yet, seven years after Che Yeming’s birth, Ye Hongyu became pregnant again. Che Hongshi, seeing himself about to become a father once more, was ecstatic—his spirit soared as if riding the spring wind, his usually stern face softened, and he was invigorated, feeling decades younger. With his mood so buoyant, his cultivation, long stagnant, began to stir and progress once more.

Seeing the Che family thriving, Che Hongshi one day boasted to his wife, “Does all this mean our family is destined for revival? Might I live to see the Che clan regain its former glory? A thousand centuries ago, we were counted among the ten great immortal families, but now we are so diminished—perhaps it is time for resurgence, for the world to remember us again.”

He sighed heavily, “But ten thousand years is far too long. In that time, our family has faced countless crises, fleeing enemies, enduring betrayal and attacks, repeatedly narrowing our domain, shifting our base, and moving from the central plains to southern Xinjiang, to Jizhou. We suffered greatly, but since laying our foundation in Old River City two thousand years ago, we have enjoyed relative peace.”

Along this tumultuous journey, many precious books, elixirs, and spiritual artifacts were lost—some stolen, some abandoned, most vanished in those bitter days. For a family to rise anew without elixirs, tomes, or treasures is almost impossible, so much so that even in dreams he dared not hope.

Ye Hongyu saw her husband’s mood grow heavy and gently patted his hand, offering words of comfort.

Che Hongshi shook his head, as if to dispel the gloom, then smiled at his wife, “At least I see hope in Yeming. His talent is unmatched, his resolve firm, his temperament strong—I see the bearing of our ancestors in him. When he was born, signs of the extraordinary were everywhere; it’s clear he is no ordinary person. I believe that even our ancestors in the celestial realm could not bear to see their descendants so humiliated and overlooked. They must have sent Yeming to revive our clan.”

His face flushed with excitement, but when he looked up, he saw his wife was not as moved, merely smiling as she listened. Embarrassed, he feigned anger, “What, you don’t believe? We immortal cultivators seldom have children, and each one is hard-won. Yet now we have another—surely the ancestors saw that Yeming alone could not shoulder this burden, and thus sent him a younger brother to assist. I wonder what kind of child this younger brother will be.”

Even he could not help but feel anticipation.

With Che Yeming as a precedent, the Che couple were no longer surprised by the unusual. On the day Che Wuyou was born, the sky was perpetually overcast, and the whole of southern Xinjiang lay beneath a veil of mist and rain.

Che Wuyou, like any ordinary child, was born with a lusty cry. His birth was smooth, and nothing startling occurred as with Che Yeming. Though the couple felt a faint disappointment deep within, their hearts were still full of joy. After all, who does not wish their child to be exceptional and gifted?

Yet their happiness did not last long. The Che couple soon noticed something lacking in Che Wuyou. Che Hongshi, experienced as he was and versed in the arts of bone and destiny, could find no fault no matter how he examined the child. Still, both felt something was amiss, though they could not pinpoint what.

Among immortal cultivators, though children are rare, those born usually inherit powerful bloodlines, sometimes even ancestral traits. It is unusual for a newborn to show obvious deficiencies.

Time passed. Compared to Che Yeming’s intelligence and agility, Che Wuyou was awkward and clumsy. His aptitude for cultivation was mediocre, even below that of ordinary children. A simple family sword technique mastered in a few tries by others eluded him—even after many repetitions, he could not grasp it.

At first, Che Hongshi harbored hope for Che Wuyou, wishing he might be as exceptional as his brother. Later, his hope faded, wishing only for him to possess half his brother’s talent. Eventually, Che Hongshi was utterly disappointed, hoping only that Che Wuyou could live as a normal cultivator in peace.

But even this modest hope was dashed. The family sword technique, when performed by Che Wuyou, looked like a monkey’s antics. If the Che ancestors could witness it, they would surely be infuriated to death. Though the technique was not exceptionally rare, it was still the fruit of generations—seeing it so crudely mishandled, Che Hongshi lost all hope in his younger son.

He became indifferent toward Che Wuyou, caring little, preferring not to see him lest he be vexed, and if he did, it was only to sneer or mock. In contrast, while Che Hongshi grew ever more distant, Ye Hongyu cherished Che Wuyou as her very life. Though as he grew older he became increasingly dull, her affection never waned; indeed, his frailty stirred even greater tenderness within her.

Though the couple’s feelings remained deep, they quarreled often over Che Wuyou, their differences in attitude growing ever sharper.

That day, Che Hongshi had just returned from the ancestral hall and, seeing a maid, casually asked whether Che Yeming had come home yet. Unexpectedly, Che Wuyou answered instead, which displeased him.

But thinking of his wife, he softened, intending to speak kindly to Che Wuyou, to show a father’s gentle concern. Yet upon hearing Che Wuyou say he was going to practice cultivation, Che Hongshi’s anger flared—how could someone with such poor talent even think of cultivation? Che Wuyou’s words revived old grievances. His anger rising, he looked at his son’s dull face and irrelevant replies, his mood shattered, all tenderness vanished, and he blurted out, “Fool!”

Even with his cultivation at the Return-to-Origin stage, Che Hongshi feared he might lose control and act too harshly, so he quickly fled the scene.