Immortal Travel of Longevity

When he woke the next day, Chen Changsheng bid farewell to the Old Sword Cultivator.

The Old Sword Cultivator urged him to stay at Sword Mountain for a few more days so he could properly play the host.

Chen Changsheng declined. "No need. This Chen still has many places to go."

The Old Sword Cultivator gave a soft sigh. "Tell me, what is the point of all this rushing about? How can you live like this without a place to return to?"

Thinking back to the previous night, he suddenly understood why Chen Changsheng had gotten so drunk.

The mortal karmic tribulation had failed to halt Chen Changsheng's steps, yet it had left his heart unable to move a single inch.

Looking at his old friend, the Old Sword Cultivator felt a deep ache of empathy. He knew exactly how bitter that feeling was, yet he could do absolutely nothing to help. After all, he too was someone who had once survived his trials by relying on wine.

Hearing this, Chen Changsheng said, "Staying in one place is even worse. This Chen is too mundane. It is better to just keep walking. Perhaps one day, I will figure it all out."

"I am afraid that once you figure it out, you will simply go and die."

Chen Changsheng shook his head. "I might go mad, but I should not die."

He offered a faint, unbothered smile. "Perhaps the next time you see me, This Chen will have become a rambling lunatic who cannot even afford wine. When that day comes, remember to take me out for a good drink. This Chen has loved wine his entire life. Even if I go mad, I will still want to drink."

The Old Sword Cultivator opened his mouth, but did not know what else to say to persuade him.

He let out a long sigh.

Seeing this, Chen Changsheng waved his hand. "We will meet again where the mountains and rivers cross. I will take my leave first."

The Old Sword Cultivator watched the man walk down the mountain. Before long, he had already reached the foothills.

From afar, that distant road stretched on and on, with no end in sight.

To the Old Sword Cultivator, a path like that—one with no end in sight and no way to turn back—was the most despairing road of all.

He could not understand what was in Chen Changsheng's mind. He even felt this way of thinking was deeply unhealthy. He could only conclude that, on some matters, the two men fundamentally differed.

Or perhaps, Chen Changsheng had unspoken difficulties he had no choice but to bear.

Difficulties so profound that he could not even casually share them with others.

They remained buried in his heart, where not even getting dead drunk could bring him release.

Yu Hongdou ran out in a panic.

"Old man! Old man!"

"Has Mister Chen left?"

The Old Sword Cultivator nodded. "He left. He just set off."

Yu Hongdou froze. He opened his mouth to speak, but swallowed the words back down.

He still had so many things he wanted to ask. How could the man just leave in the blink of an eye?

The Old Sword Cultivator patted his shoulder. "Do not look for him. To people like us, this Mister Chen's Dao is just like the demonic path—it is not something we should ever be tainted by."

Yu Hongdou did not quite understand. "Old man, aren't you and Mister Chen good friends?"

"We are."

The Old Sword Cultivator let out a breath. "Good friends for many years."

Yu Hongdou did not get an explanation from the Old Sword Cultivator. He only felt that both the old man and Mister Chen were exceedingly strange.

He could not make sense of their affairs at all.

Why would a senior with such profound Dao Cultivation and peerless sword arts drink himself into absolute oblivion? It was entirely different from what Yu Hongdou had imagined.

...

For Chen Changsheng, this was indeed a road without end.

He unrolled his Geographical Maps. The path before him was a vast blankness; he had no idea what lay ahead.

He pondered for a long time before picking a random direction and setting off.

Inexplicably, he wandered into a secluded, otherworldly domain.

Immediately after, a wave of demonic qi blasted against his face, causing his body to stiffen.

When he looked back, the road behind him seemed to have vanished without a trace.

Chen Changsheng raised his head and looked out into the distance.

A blood moon seemed to hang in the sky. Beneath its crimson glow, halls and palaces stood amidst the mountain forests.

Everything about this place exuded an eerie strangeness.

When Chen Changsheng focused his gaze on the blood moon, he spotted a faint trace beneath its light.

It was a sword!

A sword that felt familiar to Chen Changsheng!

At that moment, Chen Changsheng finally realized where he had ended up.

The Demon Land—a domain hidden from the world, known to almost no one!

"I truly am..."

Chen Changsheng muttered, "...stumbling upon it by sheer luck."

He decided once again that he really needed to change his habit of wandering into random caves. Who knew when he would run into something strange? Just like now, he had inadvertently trespassed into the Demon Land.

However, one thing puzzled him.

This place had a blood moon and felt like an independent space severed from the world. Yet, the rules here were no different from the outside, and it had even managed to evade the gaze of the Heavenly Dao.

What kind of Divine Abilities or Arts and Techniques could accomplish this?

He could not help but feel a little curious.

Right now, his presence was somewhat exposed. After a moment's thought, Chen Changsheng raised his hand.

"Come, come, come..."

He beckoned, and before long, a mass of demonic qi was drawn to him.

With a raise of his hand, leaves drifted down from the forest. They fell into his palm, combining to form a mask.

Years ago, while inside the spirit cage, he had used a similar trick to disguise himself with demon qi. Now, it proved just as useful.

As soon as he put on the mask, demonic qi instantly radiated from his body.

Feeling slightly more at ease, he strode forward, heading toward the mountain halls beneath the blood moon.

...

The cultivation methods of demonic cultivators were always rather unique.

They were called demonic firstly because of their unusual methods, and secondly because of the nature of demonic qi. An energy that could affect the mind was bound to draw criticism.

As Chen Changsheng walked toward the mountain, the figures of a few demonic cultivators gradually appeared around him.

They seemed to be returning from the outside, heading back into the mountain.

Chen Changsheng did not initiate conversation. He simply kept to himself and kept walking.

The closer he got to the mountain, the heavier the stench of blood became, and the thicker the demonic qi grew.

At first, Chen Changsheng did not understand the source of this demonic qi, but when he looked up, he understood everything.

The Demon Sword suspended against the blood moon was endlessly pouring demonic qi into this space; directly beneath it was Demon Mountain.

The endless flow of demonic qi fell like a waterfall.

And the scattered demonic qi would continually be absorbed by the Demon Sword, creating an endless cycle of Reincarnation.

It was not particularly ingenious, but it was extremely useful.

The demonic cultivators arrived at the foot of Demon Mountain. After gazing at it for a moment, they sincerely fell to their knees and kowtowed three times to show their respect.

Only then did they walk into the mountain.

Standing at the foot of the mountain, Chen Changsheng rubbed his chin in thought for a moment, then, too lazy to bother with all that, simply stepped forward and walked right in.

"Hmm?"

Immediately, several gazes turned toward him.

Chen Changsheng paused and glanced over.

He saw several demonic cultivators suddenly walking over from all directions.

This situation caught Chen Changsheng somewhat by surprise.

"Upon seeing the sacred grounds, why do you not bow?!"

The question burst from the demonic cultivator's mouth, instantly putting Chen Changsheng on the spot.

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