The Mortal World's Remembering and Forgetting

In that instant, the old man felt a thousand words lodged in his throat, an endless tide of complexity and shock flooding the depths of his heart.

The teardrop mole at the corner of the man's eye blazed like a flame, fully igniting his memory!

Though this figure had long been the most ancient memory buried in his mind, his features nearly worn smooth.

He fully recalled that stretch of years—the tall silhouette of his teacher, and that man who seemed as deathless as an immortal, even the scene of descending the mountain with his master back then.

"Master, it's time for us to go down the mountain."

"Master, do you think there are truly such things as Immortal Gods in this world?"

"There are."

"In this world, there are always mysteries that science cannot touch."

"Second Brother told me that in ancient times, there were Immortal Gods who vanished for reasons unknown."

Memories surged, like scenes from a previous life surfacing in his mind.

He suddenly recalled that line from Zhuangzi's Xiaoyao You and murmured, "On the far-off Mount Miaogu there dwells a Divine Person, whose skin is like ice or snow, and who is gentle as a maiden. He does not eat the five grains, but sucks the wind and drinks the dew; he rides on the clouds and mist, drives the flying dragons, and roams beyond the four seas."

"Grandfather!"

Zheng Weiwei couldn't help but call out, stopping this old man who seemed half-mad.

Yet the aged elder acted as if he hadn't heard his granddaughter's voice. In that moment, he was no longer the nationally renowned professor, his expression strangely devoid of joy or sorrow. He simply bent at the waist in a bow, a thousand words finally condensed into one: "May I ask, sir, since we parted that year, have you been well all these years? And where has our teacher gone in the time since?"

The man before the grave turned around, as if only now noticing their arrival. A hint of confusion flickered in his beautiful eyes as he murmured softly, "How could this be? These matters... no one should still remember them."

Shouldn't remember?

But as these words fell, they struck the ears of the several old men like a thunderclap, carrying an entirely different meaning.

So it was true!

So our blurred memories truly were tampered with!

But to tamper with memory in this Mortal World—what an utterly inconceivable thing it was!

Even the most advanced professors in the field of brain science could not accomplish this; it touched upon the fundamental mysterious consciousness of humanity, the realm of soul science.

Perhaps, as the teacher had said back then, the ancient civilization of this world once possessed mysterious longevity, only to decline in modern times.

Zhu Zhengwei looked at the people before him and couldn't help but frown.

He carefully sensed.

Normally, if a person leaked a ten-thousandth of a memory fragment, they would at most dismiss it as a dream.

But perhaps due to some experiment by Zhang Zhi, the leakage of their "Campus Local Area Network" memories was a bit more severe.

Zhu Zhengwei perceived this while trying to confirm how much they remembered, and couldn't help but speak: "I still remember back then, you were very green, climbing the mountain with your teacher. I asked you a few questions. Who would have thought that in the blink of an eye, you've grown so old."

"Yes, we still remember those questions." Zheng Linshou began to answer one by one.

So it was only a rough outline.

Like waking from a dream—hazy, fragmented, scattered pieces.

But even so, it was an ominous sign.

A little leakage was unavoidable; many would dismiss it as a dream, but over time, the truth could still be uncovered.

"Senior, may I ask how our teacher has been in recent years?" the old man before him asked. "Our teacher cultivates his Way in the mountains—what realm has he reached now?"

Zhu Zhengwei was silent for a moment.

He looked at the old man's unwilling, yearning gaze, just like Zhang Zhi's when he had climbed the mountain back then. Finally, he sighed, "The look you're giving me now is the same one your teacher gave me back then."

"Yes." Zheng Linshou did not hide it, speaking with complete candor. "I finally understand the teacher's feelings. It is the greatest fear that humanity cannot resist. I am no different."

Zhu Zhengwei shook his head, crouched down, and continued arranging the fruits.

He calculated the time roughly. In that other world, he had indeed been their elder, having truly lived over a hundred years—far older than them.

Though after waking, the sense of time's passage had been smoothed out, like a dream of yellow millet.

But weren't they the same?

"You are elders now, and I am a young man. No need to stand on ceremony—sit and speak." Zhu Zhengwei said as he arranged the fruits.

Zheng Linshou and the other old men remained standing, quietly waiting by the side like students awaiting their teacher.

Zheng Weiwei stood nearby, silent, her eyes wide as she watched the two sides with curiosity.

"Your teacher was the same—stubborn as you." Zhu Zhengwei shook his head.

Zheng Weiwei watched their exchange and finally snapped awake: her own grandfather was calling a young man "senior"! Could this young man before her already be over a hundred years old?

It was too bizarre, too surreal.

She thought back to those eerie descriptions and those two highly sensitive words: Qi Consumption, Longevity.

She felt as if an incredible, long-lost mysterious world spanning millennia was unfolding before her very eyes.

Zhu Zhengwei looked at the earnest, expectant eyes and couldn't help but answer patiently: "Over the years, he's been to many places—worked as a sailor on the sea, built city walls, served as a soldier in a few battles. He's always wandered the land, but he's still lived a very lonely life. Sometimes, living too long is a curse in itself."

Zhu Zhengwei paused, speaking with complete honesty and equality, without any arrogance. "I haven't seen him in a long time. To be honest, I'm a little afraid to face him now. What he longs for is an idol, but I'm a living person, not a true idol."

"So, Teacher really did succeed all these years." Zheng Linshou sighed, but thought to himself, You're too modest. You're no mere ordinary person—ordinary people would have long since withered into nothing.

Zhu Zhengwei nodded. "I have to go."

Zheng Linshou opened his mouth, words caught in his throat, but nothing came out.

He hesitated several times, watching that figure gradually drift away, until he suddenly could no longer hold back and called out, "Sir! Would it be possible for us to witness the true art of Qi Consumption?"

Zhu Zhengwei turned around. Though he wore a cap and mask, a teardrop mole at the corner of his eye shimmered with extraordinary brilliance.

"Alright. Then I'll show you the true method."

With that, Zhu Zhengwei left.

The moment they saw the corner of his eye, they were already hypnotized, pulled into a dream.

"I hope they get the beautiful dream they long to see. That's all I can do for now."

As for what dreams they would have inside, Zhu Zhengwei didn't bother to open their thought bubbles to check. He simply left.

But he could vaguely guess.

Based on their impressions of him, they would continue the story of their encounter in the dream.

Those young ladies, having heard exaggerated rumors, saw him as a bold and domineering underworld figure, so they dreamed of a "Hong Kong gangster turf war" tailored to their tastes.

That robber, impressed by his combat prowess, dreamed of a "Jin Yong martial arts epic" where he fought against a supremely skilled version of himself.

And them?

What they would dream of with him was already obvious.

Hours passed.

They opened their eyes, faces full of disbelief.

"Is this the art of the Immortals?"

They murmured, rising to their feet, recalling the incredible power they had just experienced.

It was exactly as they had imagined—utterly brilliant, Wind Swallowing and Qi Consuming!

They stood up, exhilarated, and retraced their steps.

Suddenly, they spotted an elderly man from a left-behind household in Zhujing Village resting under a tree. On a whim, they approached and asked, "Excuse me, that Zhang family on the corner over there—the three brothers—where have they gone all these years?"

"What three brothers?"

"The family with hemophilia—the bleeding disease."

"Oh, that family! Who told you there were three brothers? Their life was hard, but they only had one child. That child had the strange illness—he was paralyzed." The old man shook his head, unwilling to say more about how that family had passed.

"Only one child? Then their memories..."

"Exactly!"

"They only remember the eldest brother. The other two are unknown to anyone. Their memories must have been erased, and even a large stretch of time was shifted. They've been erased from the mortal world—they must have stepped onto the path of immortality."

The old men exclaimed in hushed voices and quietly slipped away.

Beside them, Zheng Weiwei still looked dazed.

She recalled the spectacle over Shancheng City—Wind Swallowing and Qi Consuming, soaring through the sky, looking down at all the tiny buildings, mountains reduced to mounds, people to ants, and the wind roaring past her face.

"Xiaoyao Gege, fly the sword faster! Huh? Why is the sky raining red dandelions!?"

She remembered that moment—how, hidden from the old men, that tall, handsome man had secretly pulled down his mask, revealing a face exactly as her heart had imagined. Her cheeks flushed.

She had dreamed of a xianxia film—very fitting for the times.

Zhu Zhengwei, meanwhile, boarded a bus and headed back to the city.

He looked out the window.

The scenery on both sides of the bus rushed past.

The noisy streets and clamor of pedestrians were left behind.

He thought back to the scientific achievements of those venerable old professors—how they had led their teams to great contributions when the nation was struggling, once the distant idols of his own overachieving youth.

Yet even they, at the end of their lives, had shown true weakness and helplessness.

That was the powerlessness of human civilization before the passage of time—the sigh of the universe and nature at the frailty of the human species. No one could escape it.

Gazing into the night, a flicker of fear and reverence for the mortal world began to kindle in his heart. He couldn't help but ask himself: "Even these titans of their era couldn't escape the dust of history or the terror of death—can I truly obtain the power of immortality?"