The young Daoist sat on a little bamboo chair, with Luopo Mountain right behind him. That was what it meant to have a mountain to lean on!
Immortal Wei moistened his finger with saliva and turned a page. Before he knew it, a faint blush had spread across the snowy white paper and jet-black characters. Looking up, the Daoist realized the sun had set beyond the western hills. Red clouds still burned at the horizon, lingering reluctantly, loath to leave the human world.
Books in one's sleeve, true wealth; nothing amiss today, a minor immortal.
With the River of Time as my Dao field, I drifted through my days like a fish, leisurely passing along with them.
Having finished her mountain patrol, Little Millet had already escorted busy Grandpa Sun home after his long day. She came down to the foot of the mountain, tugged at the strap of her crossbody bundle, and tentatively asked, "Immortal Master Wei?"
Daoist Immortal Wei immediately understood. Nodding with a smile, he said, "Knocking off right away. Since I happen to be free, let's crack away."
This was a riddle belonging solely to him and Little Millet. Chatting was cracking, and cracking melon seeds was cracking too.
Luopo Mountain was no ordinary mountain. Though it did not receive visitors particularly often, any occasional guest was no common person. When it was idle, it was truly idle. When it was busy... well, it never got busy enough to involve him.
With a grand sweep of his hand, the Mountain Lord had directly assigned Xianghuo Mountain to Immortal Wei and his newly accepted disciple as their Founding Disciple's Dao field. These days, Daoist Immortal Wei and Lin Feijing had been working over there with hoes on their shoulders, wicker baskets in hand, and woodcutting knives tucked