In Zhan Xueyang’s few remaining memories of seven thousand four hundred years ago, on a certain morning, he welcomed an immortal patient.

You Mountain was most beautiful at dusk, looking westward, when the setting sun cast magnificent light and jewels glittered brilliantly in the sunshine.

At that time, he still had the heart of a youth. Having been confined alone on You Mountain for so long, every person who came seeking medical treatment was a gift to him.

He treated them with all his heart and effort. During their stay on You Mountain, they would tell him many things about the outside world—about the current situations of the four great immortal clans, about how rain fell in the mortal realm, and how snow would fall too.

Zhan Xueyang had lived so long yet had never seen rain or snow.

You Mountain could only retain the setting sun and, occasionally, the moon, visible at night.

He couldn’t imagine what such scenes were like—gentle rain dancing, or the entire earth wrapped in silver, with snowflakes more delicate and beautiful than feathers. He pressed his lips tightly, trying hard not to let himself feel “longing.”

Zhan Xueyang was born knowing that he had to remain on You Mountain, spending countless millennia alone until the royal descendant was born and the spiritual veins were joined—only then would he regain his freedom.

The day the immortal lady arrived wasn’t You Mountain’s most beautiful hour.

The sky was unusually misty, with even the sun not yet risen. She wore a crimson robe, with vermilion between her brows, approaching slowly. Her red immortal clothes were embroidered with silver lotus flowers. With each step, her slender white legs were revealed—that immortal robe was actually split all the way to her thigh, its vibrant color tantalizingly visible.

Zhan Xueyang was polishing his axe. When he saw her, he nearly slipped and injured himself.

She was startled for a moment, then curved her lips into a smile: “Little demon, your eyes are misbehaving. Where are you looking?”

Zhan Xueyang’s face flushed red, half from embarrassment, half from anger. He resided on You Mountain as the master of this realm, yet his role as master was humble—the entire mountain had only him as a living being. However, apart from lacking living creatures, You Mountain possessed world-rare magical artifacts, flowing spiritual springs, and the only remaining ancient formation arrays.

Countless people sought his healing, treating him with utmost respect and granting his every request. Only this strange immortal lady, dressed like… like a seductress, yet with an aura of pure, intense immortal energy. But if she were truly an immortal lady, how could she dress this way? Wasn’t she ashamed?

Zhan Xueyang was momentarily shocked and suspicious of her identity, which was why he looked twice.

Unexpectedly, she called him “little demon” and wrongly accused him of being a lecher.

How could a healer be a “lecher”? He wasn’t very old yet, hadn’t reached the age of desiring women, and only thought about waiting for His Highness or dreaming of seeing the beautiful snow in the mortal realm.

He immediately put on a stern face, assuming the dignity of You Mountain’s sole master: “I won’t treat you. Leave.”

This was the first time he had ever turned someone away.

She didn’t get angry or panic. Instead, she walked over, bent down to look at him: “Don’t be so petty. I was just joking with you. How about I apologize? I’m really in pain. Won’t you take a look?”

She pressed her hand to her chest, speaking in a tone used to coax children, yet with a grinning face.

Zhan Xueyang heard this and sneered, grabbing her by the collar, intending to personally throw her out of You Mountain. This was the… most annoying patient he had ever seen.

On You Mountain, he was the most powerful existence. Even though she appeared arrogant, she couldn’t resist him.

Just as Zhan Xueyang was about to throw her out, a low, helpless sigh reached his ears.

She hugged his arm and said softly, “It hurts… be gentle. Some Master of You Mountain, with a merciful heart—I’m about to die in your hands.”

Zhan Xueyang felt he was being mocked. He turned back, glaring at her.

But she softly collapsed.

She hadn’t lied to Zhan Xueyang. She was indeed severely injured. Seeing her disheveled entrance yet still in the mood to be cheeky, Zhan Xueyang thought she was feigning illness, deliberately causing trouble.

Unexpectedly, she was more severely injured than any patient who had come to him that year.

There was a large hole in her chest, her soul nearly scattered, with her spiritual marrow showing signs of dispersion—fatal injuries for any immortal being.

Yet she could still smile.

At that time, Zhan Xueyang was young and not yet so cold-hearted. He had saved too many people to truly watch her immortal soul scatter and die.

After much hesitation, he carried her back.

This was a very strange experience for Zhan Xueyang, a complete loss. She lay deathly still on his bed. As his first reluctantly treated patient, she gave nothing in return, not even able to tell him about the outside world like others did.

She slept deeply, her body too severely injured. Zhan Xueyang had to use his own hoarded treasures to fill this bottomless pit.

Every time he passed by her side, he felt a surge of anger.

As his anger grew, it became extremely stifling. What healer would use his entire savings to treat a patient who wouldn’t pay?

What made him even more displeased was that when others came seeking treatment that involved undressing, they always had a righteous air: “Realm Master, please treat as needed. I trust the Realm Master.”

The Master of You Mountain, Zhan Xueyang, when treating others, was calm and serious, as if looking at a piece of dead meat or the quicksand people outside. Only when removing her clothes did he not dare to look much, as if one extra glance would make him what she had earlier claimed—taking advantage of her.

Just before he was about to explode, she finally awoke.

Zhan Xueyang had returned with spiritual spring water to find her holding a quicksand person, squeezing here and pinching there. The little quicksand person in her arms struggled desperately.

Her eyes were like spring flowers in full bloom, overwhelmingly delighted: “So cute!”

Zhan Xueyang: “…” He walked over with a cold face, set down the spiritual spring water, and said, “If you’re better, then get out. Before you leave, pay your treatment fee.”

She hugged a pile of small quicksand people, sitting cross-legged beside him: “No spirit stones. I was driven out of my home. No treatment fee either. Why don’t you stab me again?”

This was the first time Master Zhan had been refused payment, and so brazenly at that.

He turned around to see her looking up at him with a smile, mischievous and joking. That feeling of anger began to rise again. With a stern face, he was considering what medicine to give her to make her intestines rupture when his hand was pried open and a small golden lotus flower was placed in his palm.

“Are you angry? This is all I have—my birth lotus. Will you accept it as payment?”

It was a beautiful plum blossom, trembling in his palm, about to bloom. Zhan Xueyang wanted to show his disdain by throwing it back in her face, but after hesitating for a long while, he simply couldn’t take his eyes off it.

You Mountain, it seemed, could not grow flowers.

Even if someone brought him vibrant flowers or spiritual beasts, they would die the next day. He had never seen such a beautiful lotus flower, with pale golden light flowing through it, incomparably precious.

She tilted her head to look at him, this still childish savior of hers.

Seeing him like a child, obviously liking it very much but finally throwing it back to her, he coldly said: “Not necessary. No flower can survive past the second day on You Mountain.”

She cradled the birth lotus and placed it back in his arms.

“This one can. As long as I live, it won’t wither. Don’t believe me? Try it.”

Zhan Xueyang’s lips moved slightly, and he finally hesitantly held the lotus.

He placed it in his room and watched it all night without sleeping. The next day, when the sun rose, he hurriedly went to check—it was still there!

Enchantingly beautiful, just as lovely as yesterday.

The joy that rose in his heart was endless. The immortal lady stood at the door, smiling softly: “Rare to see you smile. Do you like it that much?”

He acted as if caught doing something wrong, immediately suppressing his smile: “I didn’t allow you to enter.”

She yawned: “Little demon, I can’t help it. You stared at me all night, almost drooling. I was afraid you’d eat me, so I stayed up with you all night. I was worried that if you did this every day, you might go crazy staring at the flower.”

He frowned: “Who stared at you all night?”

She pointed to the flower on his window frame: “I told you, that’s my birth lotus. I can feel everything it experiences.”

She blinked: “So just now when you touched it, it was equivalent to…”

Heat rushed up, and Zhan Xueyang exclaimed: “Insolent! Preposterous!”

Her laughter was crisp: “Can’t be helped. You saved my life, and it’s also my life. This is all I have to give you. I, the noble…” She paused, “…wouldn’t default on a debt.”

He pressed his lips together tightly. The lotus in his hand seemed to burn; he couldn’t decide whether to throw it away or keep it.

She cupped his face and sighed: “Promise me, don’t look at it with that gaze tonight. It’s scared, and so am I.”

He quickly slapped her hand away.

The immortal lady’s fair hand instantly turned red. His gaze fell on her hand, and he felt an inexplicable panic in his heart.

But she merely raised an eyebrow, seemingly unconcerned, quite free-spirited. She asked him: “Do you have wine?”

His mind was in chaos, and he didn’t react immediately, just pointed randomly.

She said, “The little demon is so nice.”

She gracefully went to fetch the wine jar. After she walked away, Zhan Xueyang finally came to his senses, hurriedly put down the lotus in his hand, and stayed several yards away from it, as if facing a great enemy.

It innocently emitted its beauty, quiet and peaceful, completely unlike its owner.

After a long while, Zhan Xueyang finally remembered his wine!

That wine was the world’s strongest immortal brew, with only a few jars in the entire Eight Wildernesses. He hadn’t even dared to drink it himself. Sure enough, when he ran over, the immortal lady had already collapsed drunk beneath the jeweled rocks.

He went over, gritting his teeth. Great, she hadn’t left him a single drop.

However, he couldn’t blame her. He had pointed the direction himself, implicitly allowing her to drink.

Zhan Xueyang felt so distressed that his face darkened. The young demon race with inherited powers had never even tasted alcohol.

He smelled the fragrance and feared that if he got drunk, he might cause trouble. He had planned to wait until he finished his tasks and settled the quicksand people before drinking. Now she had consumed it all.

He shook her awake roughly: “Take your lotus and get out tomorrow.”

The immortal lady opened her eyes hazily, saw him, her cheeks flushed, with a smile that could topple kingdoms, her lips and teeth entwined: “Little demon.”

Zhan Xueyang: “I’m not a little demon.”

She said, “Oh, then are you a big demon who received an inheritance?”

He was so angry he gritted his teeth: “You—how did you know?”

His demon bloodline was supposed to be a secret; everyone thought he was of the immortal race. She smiled and beckoned to him: “Come here, I’ll tell you quietly.”

At that time, his curiosity was still very strong, and he hesitantly moved closer.

Her breath was fragrant like orchids: “This is my talent. I can see through a person’s true form at a glance. I’m only telling you this.”

He was somewhat shocked, having never heard of anyone with such a talent. Zhan Xueyang knew her birth must be extraordinary—how could someone with a birth lotus be an ordinary immortal? However, being able to see through his true form at a glance was more terrifying than the ancient demon-revealing mirror.

Then he remembered something else, and his face turned red instantly.

“You… you can see my true form?”

She tilted her head, leaning on his knee: “Yes, what are you? A snake? You don’t look like one. More like a dog, but with tiger claws…”

As she spoke, she started laughing, curiously asking: “Do you have two of those?”

“Two of what?” Zhan Xueyang was too young to understand what she meant.

She whispered a few words in his ear, and his mind went blank. Then his face nearly burned with heat, and he gritted his teeth: “I’m not from the snake clan!”

“Oh,” she said with disappointment, “then you only have one.”

His voice trembled: “I’ll kill you!”

Her water-misted eyes blinked. Having drunk the immortal wine, her eyes and brows were filled with spring charm, yet she was heavily intoxicated. She sat up and pressed his neck, laughing uncontrollably: “Who taught you such vulgar words? Do you even know what they mean?”

He didn’t understand. In the books he had read, referring to oneself as “lao zi” could make one seem imposing and fierce.

With his neck held, it was as if the back of his destiny had been grasped.

Zhan Xueyang stiffened: “What… what are you doing?” He wasn’t afraid she would harm him—killing was impossible on You Mountain.

Even if he died, he would come back to life.

Their eyes met, and he couldn’t control himself, wanting to turn his head away. But the next moment, the thoroughly intoxicated immortal lady did something that made him want to perish with her, though this wasn’t possible on You Mountain.

She pressed his head against her bosom and patted the back of his head, like petting a puppy.

“No vulgar words. I don’t like hearing them. Don’t be like my annoying step-brother. Be good.” She mumbled, “With me injured like this, he should be either dead or crippled by now.”

Zhan Xueyang couldn’t hear anything because his cheek touched something soft, and the fragrance of a woman engulfed him.

He was stunned for a moment, then violently pushed her away, almost fleeing in panic.

He ran wildly to the small stream behind the mountain, scooped up water, and frantically washed his face. He… he had been defiled by a bad woman.

The cold water couldn’t dispel his heat. He simply plunged his head in completely.

But it was useless, completely useless. He felt his pulse; it was racing. Grinding his teeth in hatred, he lifted his dripping head, then couldn’t help but touch his face again.

That feeling just now…

No, he couldn’t recall it. He grabbed a quicksand person: “Throw her out. All of you, throw her out for me.”

The quicksand people accepted the command and left.

“Wait.” He gritted his teeth. “She… she still hasn’t paid the treatment fee. Who wants her lousy lotus?”

They scratched their heads, looking at Zhan Xueyang. He seemed to have been seen through: “What are you looking at? Get ou—go!”