Chapter 4: Old Stories, New Karma

"A great Black Madonna has appeared in the Western Mountains. I hear her power is vast—several Foundation seniors have already died at her hands."

"What? Even Foundation can’t fight her?"

"Yeah, I heard it’s already been reported to the Violet Sky Sect. Don’t know if a Violet Peak Adept will come."

"Hope Violet Sky Sect steps in, otherwise we won’t dare to gather herbs in the Western Mountains."

Ethan listened quietly, not interested at all.

The two continued:

"I heard, just heard, that a long, long time ago—at least fifty thousand years ago—that place was the home of a cultivation family, and that family produced a remarkable person. Maybe that Black Madonna got some treasure, that’s why she’s so powerful."

"We’re drinking coffee, not beer. What nonsense are you talking about? Fifty thousand years—you can’t even remember what happened last year, let alone fifty thousand."

"Hey, wasn’t someone at that table just drinking coffee? Where’d they go? I just saw them."

"You’re seeing things—they must’ve paid and left."

The screen door squeaked as I slipped out, unseen. Folks always talked bigger with caffeine in their veins. I couldn’t help but smile. Stories grew like kudzu in these towns—who was I to prune them now?

Western Mountains – Nameless Peak.

The Black Madonna knelt on the ground, not daring to breathe.

"Im... Immortal, what can I do for you?"

Ethan frowned slightly. The Black Madonna was pressed to the ground by an invisible force, forming a three-foot-deep pit.

Ethan didn’t speak, but in the Madonna’s mind, points of Dao power appeared. Translated, they meant: "Where did this rattle drum come from?"

She twisted her hands in her skirt, voice trembling. "A hundred years ago, after an earthquake, it came up from underground. I only felt this drum was indestructible, with a soul-captivating ability. So I kept it, not knowing it was Immortal’s item. Please punish me."

Ethan shook the rattle drum twice; the sound was as crisp and bright as ever. This was a gift from his mom when he was five, later refined into a magical tool during the Violet Peak stage, left in the family as a keepsake. Unexpectedly, by chance, it returned to him.

Ethan felt the long-stagnant bottleneck in his cultivation tremble slightly. Early True Immortal to mid-stage. The bottleneck that trapped Ethan for nearly ten thousand years loosened because of this drum.

Ethan was delighted. With a wave of his sleeve, a golden staff fell in front of the Black Madonna.

"I’ll exchange this staff for your drum, and our karma ends here."

This staff was used by a small demon at the Unity stage during the war against the demon clan. The discipline officer didn’t care for it, didn’t bother to register it; Ethan found it exquisite and kept it.

"Thank you, Immortal, for sparing my life! Thank you, Immortal, for sparing my life!"

The Madonna’s eyes filled with tears. In her world, debts were always paid in blood, but here was mercy—an American kind of deal, fair trade and the promise that the slate could be wiped clean. For Ethan, the rattle’s weight was more than magic; it was the sound of his mother’s laugh on a summer porch. He tucked it away carefully, feeling for the first time in centuries that the road ahead just might be open again.