Immortal Travel of Longevity

Mo Yuan didn't quite understand. He knew nothing of the conflict between West Xiao and Great Xiang, but hearing Daoist Fuyun's words, he knew this Priest had grasped a profound truth.

Beneath those seemingly simple words, the single term "mettle" said it all.

It was true.

Back then, West Xiao and Great Xiang had been equals in national strength, but in terms of mettle and courage, West Xiao fell short.

Zhao Zhen was dead, but he had left something intangible to future generations. History had swallowed countless Human Sovereigns, but how many had fought unceasingly their entire lives? How many emperors dared to gamble and kill as he had?

West Xiao, on the other hand, fell far short. Born of the nomadic tribes of the Northern Desert, they possessed formidable physiques, but under the constant hammering of history, their bones had long since grown soft.

Daoist Fuyun—formerly Shang Lu—also understood exactly where he had lost. As an emperor, he hadn't lacked the courage or strategy to match Zhao Zhen, but he wasn't as ruthless. Zhao Zhen had been ruthless not only to the people of the world, but to himself.

To unify the realm, he was willing to disregard everything.

He was even willing to cast aside immortality.

"Perhaps this was the Cultivation you were destined to experience in this life," Chen Changsheng said calmly.

Daoist Fuyun paused, then nodded with a smile. "You are absolutely right, Mister."

They chatted for a long time over tea.

Eventually, even the longest conversations came to an end.

Daoist Fuyun was not as talkative as he used to be. In fact, he spoke very little now. Perhaps the excessive peace of the mountain had faded his words.

A talkative person becoming silent was not necessarily a bad thing.

It all depended on what was in their heart.

This, too, was Cultivation.

Chen Changsheng did not chat with Daoist Fuyun for too long, either.

He went to the pavilion in the backyard and poured half a wine pot for Daoist Xuanhuang. The wine belonged to the Daoist temple; Chen Changsheng had just borrowed it.

Looking at Xuanhuang's grave, Chen Changsheng couldn't help but smile. "Priest, your disciples are all extraordinarily capable. As their Master, you should be happy."

He felt that if Xuanhuang knew, he would indeed be happy.

Of everyone he had encountered, Chen Changsheng felt this peach-loving Daoist was the most immortal-like and the one most deserving of long life, even though in the end he had accomplished none of it...

Mo Yuan stood beside Chen Changsheng and said, "Mister, are you missing these old friends?"

He didn't know Xuanhuang, but he often saw Mister paying his respects, so he figured this must be someone who had once been very important to him.

"I do miss them a bit."

Chen Changsheng smiled and put away the wine pot. "But this Daoist was very boring. Even more boring than Fuyun."

"Is that so..."

Mo Yuan figured Mister was definitely saying the opposite of what he meant.

...

The two did not stay long at Liuyun Temple.

Chen Changsheng asked Fuyun if he lacked anything. Fuyun actually understood that Mister wanted to give him something—perhaps a stroke of fortune.

But Fuyun replied, "This poor Daoist only wishes to live out the rest of his life on this mountain, just as Master did. Having been an emperor in this life, I have no further desires."

Hearing this, Chen Changsheng didn't press the matter, merely promising, "If you ever need This Chen's help, just ask. Before your Master passed, he entrusted you to This Chen, asking me to look after you a bit."

Daoist Fuyun nodded. "I will."

Chen Changsheng bid his farewells, and Daoist Fuyun walked the two of them down the mountain.

They reached the foot of the mountain.

Mo Yuan looked back at Liuyun Temple.

Only then did it truly sink in that this place had changed masters.

The thought made him a little reluctant to leave.

But Mister had said they would come back one day.

And Mo Yuan could afford to wait.

Aside from Jade Wave Lake, this was the first time he had felt such a heavy attachment to a place.

Suddenly, he felt as though he had grown old, just as mortals did.

After walking some distance away, Mo Yuan suddenly asked, "Mister, do you know where Old Man Zhang is buried? I'd like to pay my respects."

Chen Changsheng glanced at him. "I'll take you there."

Following Mister's steps, Mo Yuan arrived at a mountain col outside Qiuyue Fang.

He saw two pine trees standing tall there.

Next to them lay two small earthen mounds, each shaded from the sun.

Beside Zhang Xiaoliu's grave, however, was an additional tomb.

Chen Changsheng stepped forward to look. It was the final resting place of his wife.

Chen Changsheng kept this Madam Zhang in his heart, even though they had rarely met.

Her steamed cakes were delicious, and her wine was excellent.

Mo Yuan asked for guidance. "Mister, what should Mo Yuan do?"

He had never paid respects to the dead before.

In his world, there had never been such mourning customs.

Chen Changsheng thought for a moment. "According to the customs of the Mortal World, one should burn paper money, light incense and candles, and offer some food or pour some wine. Of course, you don't need all of them; just one is enough."

"Understood..."

Mo Yuan considered this and said, "Then I'll come back later. It would be better to bring everything."

Chen Changsheng nodded. "That works, too."

Come to think of it, he rarely did the full set himself.

They entered Qiuyue Fang.

Mo Yuan went to buy paper money, wine, a Sacrificial Meat Offering—which was a pig's head—and incense candles.

He bought the best that Qiuyue Fang had to offer.

He had always remembered the kindness Old Man Zhang had shown by giving him that couplet back then. This wasn't about settling karma, but a desire to let that connection endure here forever.

As Chen Changsheng walked into Qiuyue Fang, he passed a street corner.

There was a Wine Tavern there.

He remembered that this was the Wine Tavern Madam Zhang had managed later on.

It was still here today, only the owner had changed.

There was only one person tending to the tavern.

He looked quite young, perhaps only in his early twenties, and was full of youthful vigor. He looked exactly like Zhang Xiaoliu back in the day.

Chen Changsheng approached, and the young man asked, "Would the guest like to sit down for some bar snacks, or are you here to fill your pot?"

Chen Changsheng paused for a moment. "To fill my pot. Do you have Autumn Moon Brew?"

"We do, of course we do."

The young man shifted his tone and added, "Lately, the tavern also has some excellent Nu'er Hong. Would you like to try something new?"

Chen Changsheng asked, "How does it compare to the Autumn Moon Brew?"

The man thought for a second. "Others feel the Nu'er Hong tastes better, but personally, I don't think it compares."

Chen Changsheng chuckled. "And why is that?"

The young man sighed and said, "This Autumn Moon Brew was my elders' life's work. As a junior, I naturally keep it close to my heart."

"A junior..." Chen Changsheng pondered this before asking, "Have you entered the ancestral hall yet?"

The man in the tavern froze. He opened his mouth and asked, "Which ancestral hall is the guest referring to?"

Chen Changsheng lifted his head. "The Zhang Family Ancestral Hall."

The young man stared blankly before asking, "Guest... are you acquainted with my elders?"

Chen Changsheng said, "There is some shared fate. It was a matter from many years ago."

The man in the tavern was a bit puzzled. The person standing before him was so young—did he really know his adoptive mother?

But Chen Changsheng did not elaborate further.

"Just fill a pot with Autumn Moon Brew. I'll take the wine pot with me."

"Ah, alright."

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