Immortal Travel of Longevity

Everyone seemed to be growing up, growing old.

At some point, everything after death had turned into a grand dream. There was no cultivation, no refining of the heart. Instead, his life flashed past his eyes like a spinning lantern.

Everything lost to the years seemed to mend itself within this dream.

Countless old friends reappeared before him.

Old Man Zhang from the tavern in Qiuyue Fang, the old temple master of Liuyun Mountain, Daoist Xuanhuang, and so many others—people he had held in his heart from beginning to end.

He sank into the dream, unable to pull himself free.

Chen Changsheng appeared to have made peace with everything, but in truth, he had merely buried it deep. Here in the dream, however, it all resurfaced.

The tavern in his dream was bustling with life.

"Mister is here."

Chen Changsheng sat down and chatted with Old Man Zhang, just like the old days.

On the table sat a pot of Autumn Moon Brew.

It looked exactly as it had back then.

"You're living a much merrier life these days," Chen Changsheng noted.

Old Man Zhang laughed. "What are you saying, Mister? It's all thanks to your blessing."

Chen Changsheng smiled and lowered his head to sip his wine.

Only after finishing the entire pot did he speak again. "It's been hard on you, old friend."

Old Man Zhang offered a gentle smile but didn't reply.

Chen Changsheng knew full well that this was nothing more than a grand dream woven from his own lingering regrets.

He ordered a pot of wine as usual, bought a few jin of peaches from the street, and made his way to Liuyun Temple.

In his dream, Daoist Sancai had just passed a hundred years of age. He had three disciples under his wing, each given an extraordinary name: Xuantian, Xuandi, and Xuanhuang.

Hong Sancai smiled. "Why do you bring gifts every time you visit, Mister Chen? It makes this old Daoist feel a bit ashamed."

Chen Changsheng just smiled, offering no explanation.

The two of them took a seat in the stone pavilion behind the temple.

They set up a game of chess.

Chen Changsheng was a terrible chess player; he could never beat Hong Sancai.

This was largely because he had never bothered to learn. He simply didn't understand the game.

"I've won by half a piece. Thank you for yielding, Mister Chen," Hong Sancai said with a hearty laugh.

Chen Changsheng simply replied, "This Chen let you win."

Hong Sancai chuckled, teasing him. "Mister Chen's skin has grown quite thick."

Chen Changsheng smiled. "Only with thick skin can one let things go."

Hong Sancai nodded in thought. "A good thing, indeed. It seems the outside world has healed you, Mister."

Chen Changsheng paused, then offered a nod, not denying it.

Certain people and certain events had indeed been healing him.

"Where are your three disciples?"

Chen Changsheng asked.

Hong Sancai called the three youths over.

In the dream, the disciples were still in their teenage years.

They appeared easygoing and grounded—at an age where their Dao hearts were steadily taking root.

"Greetings, Mister Chen." "Greetings, Mister Chen..."

The three disciples bowed in respect.

Chen Changsheng chuckled and pulled the peaches he had bought from his pockets.

"One for each of you. No fighting."

Xuanhuang's eyes lit up, but seeing that his two senior brothers hadn't moved, he hesitated to step forward.

The three youths stood there, hesitating.

That was until Hong Sancai finally spoke up. "What are you standing around for? Mister Chen is offering them; it would be rude to refuse."

"Thank you, Mister! Thank you, Master!"

Xuantian and Xuandi stepped up to take a peach each.

Only then did Xuanhuang walk over.

Chen Changsheng handed him the last peach, leaning in to whisper in his ear, "Hold onto it tightly. Don't let your senior brothers snatch it away."

Xuanhuang blinked and nodded eagerly.

Chen Changsheng smiled and patted the boy's head.

With their peaches in hand, the three disciples excused themselves.

Watching them leave, Hong Sancai noted, "You seem to think highly of my youngest disciple, Mister."

Chen Changsheng shook his head. "Your youngest disciple is the least capable of the three."

He paused before adding, "Yet, he is also the most capable of them all."

Hong Sancai looked puzzled. He fell into thought for a moment before sighing. "It seems he is destined for a difficult life, then."

"It is neither good nor bad," Chen Changsheng said.

The flow of time in the dream was boundless.

In the blink of an eye, the scenery shifted to the picturesque peaks of Qingshan.

He walked a long road within his dream.

Once again, he arrived in Qingshan City.

Inside the city, an old man ran a tea stall where plain congee was served in the mornings.

"You rascal, back to mooch off my food and drink again? It's gone. There isn't a single drop left for you."

Yan Huanglou didn't welcome Chen Changsheng in the slightest.

He absolutely despised his visits.

All because this man always drank his tea and ate his congee without ever paying a copper.

Chen Changsheng laughed. "You're getting stingy over a single cup of tea?"

"Then why don't you pay for it?"

"This Chen has no money."

"Go beg for it yourself."

Chen Changsheng thought about it for a moment. "That works too."

Doing exactly as he said, he simply found a spot in the city, sat down, set out a small bowl, and promptly fell fast asleep.

Yan Huanglou didn't know whether to laugh or cry at the sight. He walked over and gave him a light kick. "Alright, get up. It's just a cup of tea."

Chen Changsheng lifted his head. "And plain congee."

"Don't push your luck."

"I can't compromise on that. Your congee is the best—even better than the tea."

"Alright, alright, I yield. Get up. You're dressed far too cleanly anyway; no one is going to toss coins into your broken bowl."

And with that sheer shamelessness, he secured himself a cup of tea and a bowl of plain congee.

As he ate and drank, a comfortable warmth settled in his chest.

Chen Changsheng let out a satisfied sigh. "Comfortable..."

Yan Huanglou spat. "Shameless bastard."

Chen Changsheng just smiled, entirely unbothered.

Let the old man curse all he wanted; his skin was thick enough to take it.

Yan Huanglou looked at him and asked, "Can't you find some actual work? You aren't deaf, dumb, or crippled. Can't you earn a few coppers on your own?"

"This Chen does have money," Chen Changsheng replied.

"Then why are you always scheming for my tea and congee?"

Chen Changsheng laughed. "Free food always tastes the best."

"Pah! Get lost! Hurry up and get lost!"

Yan Huanglou shooed him away.

Chen Changsheng nonchalantly patted the dust off his robes. "I'll be back tomorrow morning. Remember to cook this Chen's congee."

"Scram!"

Yan Huanglou cursed again, watching Chen Changsheng leisurely walk away.

He let out a helpless smile, yet found himself amused. He sighed deeply, inexplicably feeling that the days were much more interesting like this.

But in the end, he wasn't a real person—merely a figment within a dream.

Chen Changsheng made his way to the teahouse.

The manager was Shopkeeper Zhuang, the clerk was Clerk Cao, and there was also Da Niu...

"Mister Chen is here! Right this way, Mister Chen!"

"Mister Wine-and-Tea!"

Chen Changsheng cupped his hands in greeting to the crowd before stepping up to the stage.

The audience below sipped their tea and nibbled on snacks, their ears pricked in anticipation.

"What story shall we tell today?"

Chen Changsheng took a sip of tea, paced for a moment, and smiled. "I have one."

"As the saying goes, a dragon trapped in the wild cannot escape; falling into the mortal world becomes a tribulation instead. Today, I shall tell the tale of a young Daoist. If the story falls short, I beg your pardon..."

He spoke of that young Daoist whose heart was set entirely on the Dao, the one who placed as Bangyan less than a year after coming down the mountain.

The flow of time in this dream... it truly was wonderful.

Visit and read more novel to help us update chapter quickly. Thank you so much!