Immortal Travel of Longevity

Monk Jiming fell silent once more.

At this moment, he no longer felt his previous anxiety.

A single lamp had illuminated a room kept in darkness for a thousand years.

He seemed to see hope in the person before him—the hope to change everything.

Listening to these baffling words, Kong Ru's heart pounded wildly in his chest.

"F-Fellow Daoist Bufan, why are you saying all this? Am I... am I going to die? Why do you keep telling me to survive?"

"Fellow Daoist Bufan?"

"Fellow Daoist Bufan!? Why did you faint again?"

Kong Ru stood there in utter bewilderment, completely ignorant of what had just happened.

It was a muddled, incomprehensible mess.

"What in the world is going on?"

He parted his lips to speak again, but when he looked up, he saw the clouds abruptly parting and the fog dissipating. All the gloom in the sky vanished in an instant.

Borrowing Wu Daozi's brush, Chen Changsheng sketched one ink painting after another.

Wu Daozi occasionally offered his critique. "You have had little contact with the Art of Painting before, Fellow Daoist, yet your brushstrokes possess an undeniable Spiritual Energy. If you were to focus your mind on this path, given enough time, you would certainly be able to draw fiction into reality."

Chen Changsheng looked at the painting before him. He knew this was mere flattery; the painter was simply glossing over the flaws. "This Chen falls far short," he said.

Wu Daozi just smiled and said nothing.

Chen Changsheng was actually right; his skills did fall far short.

But Wu Daozi had not been wrong, either. Chen Changsheng's work truly brimmed with Spiritual Energy. This was something many who studied the Art of Painting lacked. Even Wu Daozi himself had lost that very same Spiritual Energy over his long years of practice.

Yet the flaw in Chen Changsheng's artwork was obvious. His paintings held no meaning. He painted simply for the sake of painting; his thoughts were not on the canvas, but somewhere else entirely.

Chen Changsheng turned to him and asked, "Has Fellow Daoist Wu found any inspiration recently? Are you still unable to paint that mountain of red flowers?"

Wu Daozi shook his head and let out a long sigh. "I have made no progress. I am afraid this is not something that can be achieved overnight."

Following the painter's gaze, Chen Changsheng looked out and saw the mountain blanketed in red flowers, as well as the Divine Jiao coiled around its peak.

He too was curious. Just what kind of painting would it take to capture that mountain, the dragon, and this faintly discernible fog all at once?

From afar, the full picture could be seen; up close, there was only fog.

How could a single painting simultaneously present two entirely different perspectives of near and far?

Chen Changsheng did not think it was impossible; he just could not figure out the principle behind it.

When Chen Changsheng looked back at Wu Daozi, he saw the painter staring at the landscape with utter intoxication and infatuation. It was a look that said no matter how many times he saw it, he would never grow tired of it.

Snapping out of his daze, Chen Changsheng looked down at the brush in his hand.

He seemed to understand something.

Perhaps this was why he could never draw fiction into reality like Wu Daozi did.

He lacked Wu Daozi's profound devotion to the Art of Painting.

Chen Changsheng had always believed that everything he saw and heard would eventually turn to smoke and fade with the passing years. In Wu Daozi's eyes, however, everything in the world was worth cherishing. Once captured on paper, those things would never dissipate with time. The painter always remembered what a place looked like, and even if it eventually changed, he would never forget its original appearance.

But Chen Changsheng would. He would forget.

Everything in this world urged him to forget his pain. And along with that pain, he was forced to forget many places and many people. He had always been forgetting.

The two of them were simply two entirely different kinds of people.

Chen Changsheng could not remember, and so, he could not paint.

He would never reach Wu Daozi's heights, no matter how much Spiritual Energy his artwork possessed.

Having thought through all of this, Chen Changsheng suddenly felt enlightened.

"This Chen understands..."

Wu Daozi was taken aback. Recovering his wits, he asked, "What have you come to understand, Fellow Daoist?"

Chen Changsheng let out a hearty laugh. "Fellow Daoist, the truth is that many things in this world are not about the result. Whether they are good or bad, whether they succeed or fail—at the end of the day, it all comes down to a clarity of mind. Today, This Chen's mind is clear. I am ultimately not a traveler on this path. No matter how hard I try, I will never draw fiction into reality as you do. Success or failure no longer matters."

"What matters is that This Chen has finally understood."

Listening to Chen Changsheng's cryptic words, Wu Daozi found himself feeling rather confused.

It was utterly baffling.

One simply could not make heads or tails of such a speech.

Yet Wu Daozi could relate. Once upon a time, he had been just like Chen Changsheng, speaking words that seemed to make no sense. Sometimes, those profound epiphanies were something only the person experiencing them could truly feel.

Clarity of mind was something that could not be forced.

A smile graced Wu Daozi's face as he cupped his hands. "Congratulations, Fellow Daoist."

Chen Changsheng returned the gesture. "Thank you for looking after me these past few days, Fellow Daoist Wu. It is time for This Chen to leave."

Wu Daozi stood up, clearly wanting to ask him to stay.

Chen Changsheng said, "Do not urge me to stay. This Chen's path lies across the wide world. I am destined to forget the road I came from. The two of us walk different Great Daos, yet we share a common spirit. Let This Chen offer you his blessing: may you one day sweep aside the clouds and fog, behold those blooming mountain flowers, and see the Divine Jiao bow its head."

Wu Daozi looked at Chen Changsheng. For some inexplicable reason, he saw an air of carefree grandeur in the man standing before him.

It was like looking at a wandering swordsman drifting freely through the jianghu.

He remembered little of the world, yet he was unfettered, living with profound clarity and absolute freedom.

Wu Daozi snapped out of his thoughts and cupped his hands in reply. "I accept your auspicious words, Fellow Daoist. May freedom follow you wherever you go."

And with that, they parted ways.

The painter watched Chen Changsheng walk away. Strangely, the further the man went, the clearer his silhouette became in Wu Daozi's eyes.

It was just like the brilliant mountain flowers and the Divine Jiao hiding within the fog.

Clear from a distance, yet obscured up close.

As he stared off for a long time, Wu Daozi felt a sudden wave of understanding.

A spark of inspiration fell into his mind.

"So that's how it is..."

Wu Daozi cried out in excitement, "I understand! I understand it now!"

"What pierces through that heavy fog is not technique—it is emotion! It is the indescribable passions and desires of the heart!"

"I finally understand!"

Wu Daozi burst into roaring laughter.

The next moment, he brought his brush down.

In just a few moments, a landscape painting appeared before him.

This time, there was an additional figure in the landscape. It was Mister Qingshan walking into the distance, leaving only the sight of his back.

The brilliant mountain flowers and the bowing dragon before him were obscured by the faintly discernible fog.

But when one's gaze focused on Mister Qingshan, layer upon layer of thick fog would block out everything in sight.

Truth and falsehood, illusion and reality—everything was contained within.

"It's done! Hahahaha, it's done!"

Wu Daozi made his final brushstroke.

Suddenly, the world around him changed drastically.

He froze in shock as a tremendous rumbling sound echoed through the air.

"Rumble!!!"

Startled, Wu Daozi hurriedly held his painting steady.

"What is happening...?"

He looked off into the distance, only to see the fog entirely retreating from the red mountain. The Divine Jiao raised its head, its gaze crossing the vast distance to meet Wu Daozi's eyes.

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