"Immortality?"
The red-haired man holding the golden page stood still, confusion appearing in his eyes.
It was the bewilderment of doubt.
"How does one become immortal?"
"What is immortality?"
"Immortals are immortal."
"To be immortal is to become an immortal."
Tu Shan Jun gripped the flyleaf of the immortal scripture in his hand. As he looked at the general outline, he fell into thought.
He could understand every word written upon it. Clearly, he had never learned them, nor had he ever recognized them before. Yet it was as though some great cultivator had forged a "whetstone" from essence, qi, and spirit. So long as it was a blade, whether it recognized the whetstone or not, once it was sharpened upon it, it would become keen and sharp.
It was a wondrous feeling.
It was as though the general outline had become the language he knew best.
Yet although he recognized every single word, when they were joined together, he could not understand them at all, nor could he read them smoothly.
They seemed contradictory from beginning to end, yet they also seemed to form a circle. Perhaps he stood within that circle, or perhaps outside it. He could not see through it, nor could he understand it.
Tu Shan Jun could not help shifting his gaze toward the life account left behind by the cultivator who had written the scripture.
Not once did it mention the writer's name, nor did it leave behind any humble title. Every passage began with "I."
There was no description of his cultivation realm, nor did he speak of how swiftly he cultivated. This account of his life was more like a journal he had written, recording only a few matters—how he had pursued immortality.
He visited famous mountains and great rivers, set foot