Chapter 8: Swallowing the Elixir, Spurring Wings, Aspiring to Ascend as an Immortal

Chapter 8: Swallowing the Elixir, Urging Wings, Yearning for Immortality

Zhang Sanlu’s heart was filled with both joy and shock.

He rejoiced because, just as he had suspected, the other side was an illusion; after his self-inflicted wound, he had indeed returned to reality. Yet he was equally shocked—why had the injuries he suffered in the illusion manifested here as well, in exactly the same places?

“N…urse…” Zhang Sanlu, gritting his teeth against the pain, strained his neck to call out to the nurse on duty.

“Careful, don’t move your neck too much—watch your wound.” The nurse, Liu, though wearing a mask and large gold-rimmed glasses that obscured her features, seemed quite young.

“B…reath…” Zhang Sanlu couldn’t swallow; saliva pooled at the corner of his mouth and dribbled out.

“Too tight, is it rubbing against your wound? Let me loosen it a bit.” Nurse Liu first dabbed the saliva from his mouth with a tissue from the bedside, then reached behind his neck and loosened the tie by one notch.

Zhang Sanlu immediately felt the pressure on his chest ease. He took a deep breath, cool air flooding his lungs.

Something tumbled from his chest, rolling out through the loosened collar and landing on the pillow beside his neck.

Nurse Liu let out a soft exclamation, then peered down at the object on the pillow.

“What…is it? Let me see!” A sudden unease gripped Zhang Sanlu. His mouth was parched, and an ominous premonition welled up within him.

“What is this thing?” Nurse Liu, frowning, pulled down her mask and picked up the object, holding it up close for inspection.

It was a dark red pellet— the Longevity Elixir that the Master of Profound Enlightenment had bestowed upon him. The very elixir he had pretended to swallow in front of Su Qing!

A thunderclap seemed to explode in Zhang Sanlu’s mind. His teeth chattered with tremulous intensity.

He had been so certain, so resolute in dismissing everything on the other side as mere illusion. But now, with this tangible object before him, his conviction began to waver.

If that world was truly only an illusion, how had this thing appeared here?

But if that world was indeed another reality, then what about his fellow disciples who had died, Kong Gao whose head had been severed, those hundreds of black ceramic jars stuffed with human heads, even the Master of Profound Enlightenment who turned into a mere skin after his suicide? Those horrific, unfathomable images kept flickering through his mind.

Zhang Sanlu’s thirst grew unbearable, his thoughts tangled and chaotic. He needed to calm himself.

Meanwhile, Nurse Liu stared intently at the pellet, her gaze now grave. She seemed to recognize it as a kind of Chinese herbal pill, but it had no business being here—certainly not on a patient who had been unconscious for days and had just attempted suicide.

After all, patients were routinely given full-body checks after sedatives and before being fitted with restraints.

Their bewildered eyes met in the silence.

After a brief struggle within himself, Zhang Sanlu abandoned the idea of explaining the truth to Nurse Liu. Who would believe the ravings of a madman? She would probably rather believe someone had accidentally dropped a pill here.

But—

What would happen if she swallowed this elixir? An insistent voice arose in Zhang Sanlu’s mind. He was intensely curious: in that other world, the Longevity Elixir had allowed the Master of Profound Enlightenment to live to two hundred eighty years—what might it do in this world? Would it grant longevity here as well? Or would it turn someone into a monster like that master? Zhang Sanlu’s curiosity gnawed at him—what would become of her if she took it?

Swallow it.

Just bring it to your lips.

And swallow it!

Eat it, and perhaps you will obtain eternal life!

Nurse Liu tore her gaze from Zhang Sanlu and fixed her attention on the elixir, studying the intricate patterns etched on its surface, as if she could see a dark red glow flowing along the lines.

Her face drew closer to the pill. The elixir drew closer to her lips.

Those crimson lips and the dark red pellet seemed almost to merge as one.

“Nurse Liu!”

Zhang Sanlu suddenly snapped out of his trance and shouted.

“Nurse Liu.”

At that very moment, the door behind them opened and a middle-aged man’s voice called out.

“Ah!” Nurse Liu jumped and turned to look.

Standing in the doorway was Doctor Zhou, one hand on the doorknob, the other in the pocket of his white coat, a stethoscope hanging from his neck as he looked at Nurse Liu inside the room.

“Doctor Zhou, take a look at this.” Nurse Liu hurried over, holding out the pellet. “This fell from Xiao Zhang—it’s not one of your prescriptions, is it?”

Doctor Zhou took the pellet, examined it carefully, and shook his head. “The only medications I’ve prescribed for Xiao Zhang are chlorpromazine hydrochloride and clozapine tablets, to help with his hallucinations and mood. He’s also on some other sedatives, but there’s nothing like this Chinese medicine.”

“Could it be from another doctor?”

“When has any doctor at our hospital ever prescribed herbal medicine?”

Doctor Zhou brought the pellet over to Zhang Sanlu’s bedside. “Xiao Zhang, can you hear me?”

Zhang Sanlu understood what he wanted to ask, so he nodded, then shook his head.

Doctor Zhou could only sigh and, taking out an empty pillbox, placed the pellet inside. He turned to Nurse Liu: “I’ll check with the other doctors, and if necessary, get the lab to analyze its contents.”

Nurse Liu nodded, then glanced at Zhang Sanlu, hesitating. “Doctor Zhou, do you think Xiao Zhang’s condition worsened because he took this pill?”

Zhang Sanlu caught the concern in Nurse Liu’s voice and, turning to look at her, felt a pang of guilt for having just moments ago considered making her try the pill.

“Xiao Zhang, focus on getting better. You will recover,” Doctor Zhou said, and Zhang Sanlu felt his hand gently patting his shoulder.

“But Xiao Zhang, since you’re fairly lucid right now, can you tell me what kind of stress-induced hallucination you experienced when you cut yourself with the spoon handle in the cafeteria?”

At those words, Zhang Sanlu tensed. The bizarre and terrifying scenes flooded his mind once again, and his restrained body twisted involuntarily. Though Doctor Zhou’s tone was gentle, Zhang Sanlu sensed something strange.

Yes, a sensation.

A strange, meaningless sound gurgled from Doctor Zhou’s body.

Everything around Zhang Sanlu began to blur. His vision clouded, and the doctor’s voice faded, muffled and distant, as if coming from inside a bag.

Zhang Sanlu thought of the Master of Profound Enlightenment, who, after death, had become nothing but a skin inside a bag.

A guttural sound echoed.

The bed seemed to flip. Where he had been lying and looking up at the white ceiling, now it seemed he was sprawled across the ceiling itself.

A black ceiling.

The air was thick with the earthy tang of soil, laced with the scent of blood.

That guttural sound again.

Zhang Sanlu lifted his head, and there, in front of him, was himself, body twitching and convulsing in arrhythmic spasms.