Chapter Forty-Five: Grilled Fish Under the Scorching Sun

“Master, Master,” I called, unwilling to give up, hurrying after him to ask, “Then, in a little while, will you summon auspicious clouds for us to ride down the mountain?”

“No.”

This time, he didn’t even pause, simply tossed those two words back to me and kept walking forward, not once turning to look at me.

Though doubt filled my heart, I dared not call out to him again. I hurried to catch up, following in his footsteps.

Back in the Demon Realm, I’d once heard Chixiao mention it. Three thousand years ago, the Violet Lotus and Momeili had fought in the Shuliu Desert. That day, countless demons perished, and many of the immortals were gravely wounded.

I’d known of this, yet never imagined that Momeili had wounded him so grievously. After over three thousand years of quiet cultivation and healing, even now, he was as frail as a mortal. The simplest of immortal spells—summoning a cloud—was beyond his power.

My heart ached with regret; it was all because of my own carelessness. After being with him for so long, I hadn’t noticed at all.

“Master, you—”

I couldn’t help calling out to him, torn between stepping forward to ask about that ancient battle, to know just how deeply he’d been hurt three thousand years ago.

“Hm?” He halted, turning his head to look at me. “Little Fish, hurry up and keep pace!”

“Yes, Master.”

Biting my lip, I agreed, deciding not to question him further. If my suspicions were true, with his pride, who knows how he’d feel if I brought it up?

What did it matter if the staircase stretched for a thousand or ten thousand miles? To walk it with Violet Lotus was a blessing, not a hardship.

Or so I told myself, though I still wondered: for Violet Lotus, was this truly a blessing, or something else entirely?

Unable to use magic before him, I could only rely on my legs and strength. Not even an hour had passed before I was gasping for breath. Looking ahead at Violet Lotus, who walked with such ease, I could only lament in my heart.

He was truly remarkable, traversing the path so lightly even without magic.

“Master, where are we going?” I hurried to catch up and asked.

He stopped and replied, “The mortal world.”

“Where in the mortal world?” I pressed.

“Lincheng, in the Eastern Yue Kingdom, to the Abode of Immortals.”

He answered calmly and continued walking.

“Is the Eastern Yue Kingdom far from here?”

“Far?”

“How… how far is it?”

“Not far.”

…

The conversation ended there.

From this exchange, I drew a conclusion: the Eastern Yue Kingdom was very far, Lincheng was very far, and the Abode of Immortals was even farther. I could scarcely imagine how my delicate little carp body would survive such a hopelessly long journey.

Even if I somehow endured the ordeal, by the time we reached the Abode of Immortals in Lincheng, Eastern Yue, who could guarantee that I would still appear as I do now—fair, lazy, and so endearingly pitiable?

At that moment, the sun blazed fiercely, as if fire itself was roasting the earth. I, a little carp, felt as scorched and frantic as if I were leaping from a boiling cauldron. My heart was heavy with sorrow, and with every thought of being baked into a little black fish by the merciless sun—having to parade about before Violet Lotus in that charred state—I wished I could simply faint away, sparing him the sight and myself the shame.

“What’s the matter? You’ve fallen so far behind. Hurry up and catch up,” he said, without so much as turning his head.

I had no idea how he’d sensed that I’d lagged behind.

“Master, it’s so hot. I’m exhausted and can’t walk anymore,” I panted, squatting on the ground, utterly unwilling to take another step. I was just too tired!