Chapter 2
I had no right to that “so did I.”
A useless creature without spiritual roots, I wasn’t qualified to become an outer disciple—or even Li Qi’s personal maid.
They sent me down to the foot of the sect’s mountain to work as a menial servant.
I understood. I’d read all about it in storybooks.
Even the servants of Divine Sword Mountain lived among immortal gardens and spirit pools. Point a wooden stick, and the water jars filled, dinner cooked itself, and the clothes came clean.
I pushed open the door. An indescribable sour stench hit me in the face.
Bodies long unwashed. Hair uncombed. Sweat-soaked clothes and filthy bedding.
The people in the servants’ compound all had useless roots spanning the five elements, as most mortals did. I was the first to have none at all.
They put me in a cramped little room with a dozen other girls.
A gap on the communal bed, too narrow even to turn over in, was mine.
So the storybooks had lied.
My nightmare began that day.
The sky over Divine Sword Mountain rarely grew completely dark. Brilliant luminous pearls shone all night.
And so the servants never truly rested.
Whenever a cultivator wanted something, we had to get up from the bed where we could only lie flat.
Carry water. Chop wood. Cook. Wash clothes. Tend fires. Sweep…
The cultivators of Divine Sword Mountain relied on a spirit spring for their cultivation. Its water was pale pink, heavier than ordinary water.
Pampered from childhood, I couldn’t bear the strain. I stumbled and fell.
A whip lashed down.
Just as our family’s groom would flog a disobedient horse.
I scrambled to my feet, seized my buckets, and hurried off to fetch more water.
Once the buckets were full, the firewood had run out.
Once the firewood was stacked, the food had gone cold.
Thousands of servants spun like tops. I had no idea how long I’d worked before I returned to the communal bed.
The girl beside me leaned over. “Sister, your clothes are stuck to you with blood.”
Only then did the heavy ache reach me. I couldn’t stop the tears.
The girl took some scissors and cut my clothes away from the lash wound. Then she went outside, gathered a little medicinal herb, and laid it on my back.
She was small and thin, her touch gentle. “I’m Cuicui. What’s your name, Sister?”
I gasped with pain. “Call me Sister Jiu’er.”
She nodded. “Don’t be afraid. This herb works wonders. Leave it on for a little while and you’ll be well again.”
I murmured assent, then started sobbing again.
Divine Sword Mountain really was remarkable. Even the herbs that grew here were miraculous. Such a terrible wound could heal in moments.
She hadn’t lied. Before long, I was as good as new.
Our sleeping places were side by side. When we had time, we slept together; when we were busy, we worked together.
She told me her family lived in a village outside the mountain. They’d sold her here as a servant to pay for her elder brother’s marriage.
“Sold you? People get paid for sending someone here to work?”
She nodded. “Of course. Everyone knows how bitter a servant’s life is on Divine Sword Mountain.”
A bitter laugh escaped me. Ha. So this was what all that kneeling and begging had bought me?
They even owed me the price of my own sale.
The world revered cultivators too much. Jingzhou lay too far from Divine Sword Mountain.
The storybooks spoke only of flying swords, endless transformations, soaring through the heavens and burrowing through the earth, mysteries without end.
Attendants wore fluttering robes. Menial servants could turn stones to gold.
Mortals lived hard lives, so they imagined an immortal mountain as a paradise apart from the world, where everyone was happy and everything went well.
For the first time, I regretted coming.
If I had stayed home, I would surely be married to Zheng Heng by now. Next year I would give him a legitimate son and repeat my mother’s life.
An ordinary life, yes. But better than this torment without an end in sight.