Vạn San Vô Cương. Midday, the sun blazed at its zenith. True to its name, Vạn San Vô Cương was a region of countless winding green mountain ranges, like sharp spines erupting from the back of a mighty beast, stretching endlessly towards the horizon.
The terrain was inherently rugged and majestic, yet it wasn't desolate or deserted. Clearly, one could discern the silhouettes of people and animals, along with the rhythm of daily life.
For instance, small villages dotted the mid-slopes of the lower hills, kitchen smoke drifting lazily upwards.
Or, around grassy patches and open clearings, livestock grazed. And in the belly of the valleys, a few towns had sprung up, where small streams gurgled, gently turning waterwheels.
In the sky, a shadowy mass of dark energy, vaguely humanoid in shape, was flying at extreme speed.
It cut through the wind, its form flickering unsteadily, resembling a kite torn on one side, its symmetry lost.
“My Lady Mother, look! A ghost!”
On a hill, dense trees intertwined with small clearings. From afar, the hill looked no different from a forgotten bowl of dried rations, long left to mold green and yellow. On the mid-slope of the hill, a young woman followed the child's pointing finger. She gazed at the empty sky, sighing with a troubled heart.
“Ai...! My child is simply not as clever as other children!”
The child, hearing this, was displeased. Its brow furrowed slightly, mimicking an adult, and it tried to explain again: “It’s true, you must believe me!”
“You really are silly! With the sun so strong, how could there be a ghost walking in broad daylight? And besides, who taught you, little rascal, to call me ‘My Lady Mother’ like that? I’ve told you to stop using that address!”
The child, about eleven years old, wore a simple, coarse cloth tunic, yet it was very neat and tidy. Not fair-skinned like other children, it had a slightly yellowish complexion, characteristic of the humid tropics. Its black hair and facial features were well-proportioned. However, its gestures and gaze were a little slower than other children its age. Nevertheless, the child’s overall demeanor and aura were very graceful, making those who met it always feel a sense of goodwill. Beside it was its mother. Neither wore silks or brocades, yet both exuded an air of distinction.
At the same time the mother and child were bickering, far away, the ghost cultivator who had just flown past the small hill had already traveled a long distance. Suddenly, he frowned, for in the distance, two faint figures appeared, approaching him. The two seemed to have noticed him, yet they moved with great leisure. Seeing this, the ghost cultivator immediately lowered his altitude and then rapidly accelerated back. The two distant figures continued their calm walk, appearing disinclined to bother with the ghost cultivator.
Of the two, the one behind was a decrepit old man. Nearly all the hair on his head had fallen out, with only a few sparse strands remaining. Below, his eyebrows were completely white, extending past his chin, truly very long. He had deep-set eye sockets, revealing only a blackness like an ancient well. Only upon close inspection could one occasionally discern a tiny speck of light, like a matchstick, which was perhaps his pupil. The old man leaned on a staff, and on his back was a peach wood box. Accompanying him was a child of about five years old, walking ahead.
This child had an ethereal appearance, with a striking face. Especially its eyebrows, which were shrunken to just a tiny, oval, jet-black dot, like a bean, neatly placed above its pure eyes, as vast as the boundless sea. Its face bore the innocence of a five or six-year-old, completely devoid of any signs of experience, truly like a blank piece of white silk, simple and unadorned. The child wore a plain, simple outfit, with only a few rudimentary wave patterns.
The only piece of jewelry worn on his right middle finger was a white-blue ring, inlaid with a teardrop shape.
The old man walking behind said to the child, "Peak Master, going right will take us to Duan Shan City. From Duan Shan City, another hundred li southwest will bring us to San Qing Mountain, our meeting point."
The child, whose eyes were clear as autumn water, looked into the distance for a moment before speaking in a tender voice, "At this leisurely pace, we'll still arrive days before the appointment. Let's skip Wan San Wu Gang and depart now. I sense a very ancient aura. At first, I thought it was a treasure or a tomb, but now that I'm here, I realize it's a person, not an object. Be a little careful; we should avoid it if possible, but there's no need to be alarmed."
The two, with a somber air, changed direction and set off. The ghostly aura from just now, as if encountering a natural enemy, rapidly retreated back over the small hill.
"Mom, look...! Quick, look, look! It's it, I'm really not lying!"
When the young woman turned back, the space was already silent. She sighed in exasperation and smacked her son's head. The child, Yuan Qingming, covered his face, full of grievance.
The young woman concluded that her son indeed had a problem, but muttered that it absolutely wasn't inherited from her, but from the child's father, absolutely. If anyone asked, she would definitely say it was inherited from his father; how could she possibly admit to such a shameful thing? On the other hand, if asked about his appearance, well then, she could say nine-tenths of it came from his mother, which would be acceptable, though a little unfair to her.
Their child was not healthy when born, frequently falling ill as if it were a daily occurrence. As he grew a little older, he was slow to speak and walk, his movements and actions unnatural, as if lacking strength. Furthermore, sometimes a sluggishness could be seen on his face. His parents had sought treatment in many places, trying all sorts of methods. This time was different; they had obtained information by leveraging Qingming's father's past connections. The mother and son had been traveling for over a month, and upon reaching this place, where horses and carriages were inconvenient, they had to continue on foot.
"Hurry over the pass. This time, your medical fees won't be small, little fellow."
Talking about the cost was just to scare the child, to make him understand the importance of this trip, and partly also to urge him on. In reality, his parents had heard rumors of a skilled pharmacist who had once been indebted to them in the past, so they made the effort to come and see if fate would allow. As for the issue of his illness, it was truly a very headache-inducing, endless argument between the whole family.
"I'm really not sick. And if I really were, what kind of pharmacist could cure foolishness?"
They had already come this far, and it had taken a month. Ignoring Qingming, his mother gently pulled him forward while Qingming was still looking back towards the horizon, various speculations forming in his mind: "Ghostly souls traveling in broad daylight, could some calamity have spread here?"
The two continued walking, crossing several hills, then a cool stream. Time, like the stream water, flowed downstream towards the late afternoon.
Walking a lot makes one's legs tired, a common occurrence, so the mother and son stopped at a small tavern. The tavern was located halfway up the mountain, a pole with a flag bearing the character "tea" fluttering in the wind. The view from this small tavern was open and expansive, stretching far into the distance: below, one could see the small path winding through the valley; above, looking up and far, misty clouds embraced the mountain peaks. The tavern had several tables outdoors and a similar number of tables inside. Though small, there were nearly twenty people there now, all looking like farmers, and also some martial artists carrying weapons.
Qingming and his mother chose an outdoor table, ordering a few steamed buns, two bowls of wild bamboo shoot soup, and a small plate of pickled vegetables.
Thanh Minh's mother, Hoa Tranh, was truly relaxed after drinking some bamboo shoot soup, rubbing her thighs with both hands.
Meanwhile, Thanh Minh's ears perked up, listening in on the surrounding gossip and jokes.
A few tables away, a slightly chubby child, who looked several years younger than Thanh Minh and whose face could be judged as not at all as naive as Thanh Minh's, was asking.
The chubby child was accompanied by a middle-aged man, his father.
The two carried bamboo baskets, likely here to gather herbs for a living.
Hearing the question, everyone in the inn glanced over with interest.
Meeting so many gazes made the chubby child feel a bit awkward and shy. The waiter busily placed a plate of steamed buns on their table, then chuckled and stretched, speaking up to break the silence, very skillfully easing the chubby boy's awkwardness.
"Little brother, if an Immortal lived here, it would probably be me, wouldn't it?"
The chubby child asked again, more naturally. He was probably drawn in by the waiter's lively demeanor.
"Why would it be you, big brother? Are you really an Immortal?"
"I grew up here from a young age, I've never seen an Immortal. If an Immortal lives here, then who else could it be but me? I wake early to pick tea in the morning dew, and at night, I sleep peacefully in a stone cave, listening to the sounds of the mountains and the wind. Sometimes I go out to gaze at the stars, bathing in the moonlight. Little brother, do you think I'm an Immortal?"
After speaking, the waiter burst into laughter, patted the child's head, and the other customers in the inn also joined in the laughter. Here, with its towering mountains and clouds that gather and disperse, who's to say it's not a celestial realm? Because of the child's question, the entire inn began to chat idly about the matter.
"Little brother, when it comes to Immortals, those are simply wondrous people. Many martial arts masters are also extraordinary; breaking rocks with bare hands or felling trees from a distance, those are also things that can happen. To me, that's already an Immortal. This is my true opinion, I'm not joking with you anymore."
A pot-bellied old man, who had been chewing on a toothpick, finished picking and flicking it, then sighed and offered a comment.
"Immortals! Immortals! They are truly too far-fetched. For ordinary mortals, just living day to day is difficult; thinking about what to eat or where to live tomorrow is already a myriad of hardships, let alone thinking about Immortals. In my life, I only hope to open my eyes tomorrow and know that I was still alive yesterday; that's enough."
A beautiful woman in red, who was sipping from a wine gourd, also paused and added:
"If an Immortal were here, this old woman would seduce him, bewitch him, make him cling to me day and night, never leaving. One step to the peak of human life, truly like cultivating immortality right before my eyes...! Ha ha ha!"
"Truly a woman's mind, so shortsighted! And besides, do you think an Immortal would even pay attention to you? A transcendent Dao heart, how could it be swayed by carnal desires?"
"This brother is mistaken. As I see it, the myriad arduous paths of immortal cultivation are only for standing above others and grasping supreme destiny. Embracing women left and right, what's wrong with that! Standing high and looking down on the mortal world, what's wrong with that! All this talk of entering or leaving the mortal world, it's all just a facade. Ultimately, it's about power, authority, and greed."
"You scholars speak so eloquently, but as I see it, what's the difference between immortal and mortal? Ultimately, it's fear of death, and for the two words: longevity."
The entire inn buzzed with chatter, some expressing their own views, others striving to argue their points. There were also those who listened in silence and watched quietly.
The afternoon light was already fading into dusk. Rest was only temporary; the journey still had to continue.