A Fortuitous Encounter

Qi WuHuo nodded quietly, then looked at the things in front of him. "Old man, please wait a moment."

Even with a fortuitous encounter before him, he didn't hurry over. Instead, he finished what he was doing first.

He'd planned to eat only half the minced meat the butcher had given him and store the rest in the cold cellar beneath the storeroom, where it would keep for two more meals. Now, though, he took it all out. As he prepared the filling, he added sesame oil—the kind he usually put in the dishes only at New Year.

He wrapped the buns and set them to steam.

Then he chopped some vegetables, washed his hands, and sat down in front of the old man.

The old man stroked his beard and smiled. "When you carried me down the mountain, I told you I'd come to visit a friend. Do you remember?"

Qi WuHuo nodded.

"I remember."

The old man sighed. "Now I've stayed here with you for a month. It's time for me to leave."

Qi WuHuo said instinctively, "I'll see you off."

The old man laughed heartily. "My legs have healed, and the bond between us has run its course. There's no need to hold on to me. I didn't tell you when I arrived, so you shouldn't see me off when I leave. That's how it should be."

"I'll leave you a gift. If you keep up your diligent cultivation, perhaps one day, when you enter the Dao, we'll have another chance to meet."

"But my gift won't be so easy to earn."

He stroked his beard and thought for a moment, then pointed toward Qi WuHuo's room with a smile. "You have many books in there."

"Though the Yellow Millet Dream was absurd, the books you read in it were real."

"Here's what I'll do. I'm building a new Daoist temple, and I'm still missing a couplet for its front gate. If you're willing, write one for me."

"A couplet?"

Qi WuHuo didn't understand, but he went back to his room and fetched paper and brush. The brush had cost about ten copper coins, more than a pound of pork, and it was the cheapest kind available. The paper was also the cheapest, called Ben Paper: a hundred and fifty sheets for six silver coins. Qi WuHuo had been poor in the past. Though he had bought some, he treasured it dearly.

He picked out the whitest, cleanest sheet. Though they called it a sheet, paper in this era was quite large.

Qi WuHuo spread it out.

He brought over well water, ground the ink, and sorted out his thoughts as he stirred it smooth. Then he dipped his brush.

Thoughts surged and shifted in his heart. Without meaning to, he recalled that strange dream of his, and the dream the old man's pillow had given him. Before, he had been no more than a boy struggling to get by. Now he could see a far wider world. He looked up at the mountains and rivers, recalling the scenery he had witnessed as a Mountain God. He pondered for a moment, then set brush to paper.

[Daoist temple locks mist and rosy clouds]

His first line painted a scene, then its artistic conception stretched further.

[One must know beyond the heavens lie more heavens; sun and moon race by, leaving every thought empty.]

The old man stood to one side, stroking his beard. He raised his eyes slightly and smiled. "Not bad."

"It has scenery, and the sense of the sun and moon turning. Excellent."

Qi WuHuo's mind settled, and he wrote the second line.

"True Person spreads teachings and transformations."

He paused, recalling those two marvelous dreams, then wrote:

"Only then do I see a dream concealed within a dream; time flies like an arrow, crossing spring and autumn."

The old man recited the final line, stroking his beard as he looked at the boy, whose expression remained calm.

He could read Qi WuHuo's understanding and gratitude toward him in the couplet. Yet perhaps because of what he had gone through in recent years, Qi WuHuo rarely showed the many feelings in his heart.

Growing up before his time was no blessing.

It usually meant he had endured a great deal of hardship.

Only such suffering could make someone grow so quickly.

The old man sighed inwardly, then smiled. "Good, good."

"It's a little too modest for a Daoist temple, but it contains your understanding."

"The Yellow Millet Dream is all there."

"You've earned my gift."

Qi WuHuo hadn't seen the old man make a move, but a pill bottle had suddenly appeared in the air. It was white porcelain, with a slender neck and a translucent sheen. A spiritual glow emanated from within. Just breathing in the pill's fragrance made Qi WuHuo feel his body stirring with vitality. The old man looked at the bottle, twitched his fingers, and quietly erased the four cloud-script characters for [First Revolution Golden Elixir] from its surface.

Then he smiled and said:

"This is... Let me think. This is the [Life-Extending Elixir]."

He gave it a plain, unremarkable name, then continued:

"Your Primordial Spirit cultivation is far too advanced, far beyond your primordial qi and primordial essence. As you cultivate, your Primordial Spirit will keep growing, no matter how much you restrain it. Even with methods to temper your primordial qi and primordial essence, and with diligent effort, it'll take decades before you complete the Three Talents. If you travel the world to see all things, it'll take even longer."

"I refined this medicine myself. Its properties are gentle."

"There are fifty pills."

"Each one can extend your life by a year, adding fifty years to your lifespan. That should be enough time to refine Primordial Prenatal Qi."

"By then, your Primordial Spirit, primordial qi, and primordial essence will all have been nurtured to great strength. Once you reach Primordial Prenatal Qi, your foundation will be exceptionally solid."

"If fate allows, we'll meet again."

Qi WuHuo paused. "Fifty years of life?"

The old man smiled. "That's right. I don't have fewer than that."

"If you happen upon another opportunity and break through sooner, all the better. You can keep the medicine."

"Take it yourself or give it to someone else. It's up to you."

"This elixir doesn't extend life in the usual sense. Its effects have nothing to do with one's cultivation."

"Someone with Primordial Prenatal Qi can take it. A True Person of the Human World can take it too."

"Even a celestial official in the heavens can extend their life with it once their years are spent."

The old man spoke as lightly as a breeze.

In an instant, Qi WuHuo understood how precious this gift was.

The three-legged cauldron the Mountain God prized could refine the primordial qi of the mountains into spiritual liquid. It could extend life by a year, repairing hidden injuries in the body and replenishing primordial qi. Its life-extending effect couldn't stack; in other words, the spirit fruit and liquid extended one's acquired lifespan.

But the old man's elixir likely extended one's allotted lifespan.

Even at the very end of your years, one pill could give you another year.

The elixir's form probably reflected the old man's belief that, no matter how lax Qi WuHuo became, he could still cultivate Orthodox Mystic Gate's Primordial Prenatal Qi within those fifty years. If Qi WuHuo didn't need the elixir, he could give it to someone else. True Persons of the Human World nearing the end of their lives wouldn't hesitate to trade a major legacy technique, or even a treasure or spirit pill, for an elixir that could extend their allotted lifespan.

So this fortuitous bond should amount to—

Fifty years added to your allotted lifespan.

Or fifty chances to forge a deep bond with someone of True Person rank.

Anyone with one of these pills could visit one of the great Daoist sects in the Human World and be admitted.

Ten pills would earn you the ancestral transmission of the Orthodox Mystic Gate. If you gave them all to a single True Person, then unless their talent was so poor that even rotten wood couldn't be carved, they were guaranteed to reach Primordial Prenatal Qi. Even if they truly couldn't grasp a thing, the pills could guarantee them a lifetime of wealth and status, as well as the foundation to become an earth deity for three to five hundred years after death.

A way to extend one's allotted lifespan without any limit on cultivation.

It was far too overbearing.

And the old man before him had handed it over as casually as if it were nothing.

Qi WuHuo said, "I... This gift is too precious. How can I accept it?"

The old man stroked his beard and smiled. "It's fine, it's fine. Just think of it as payment for a month of meals."

Qi WuHuo didn't take it. He only asked softly, "Doesn't the old man like this couplet?"

The old man laughed awkwardly. "It's not that I don't like it. It just doesn't quite measure up for me."

"It's good, and it shows your own understanding, but it still lacks a little of that ethereal immortal aura."

"That's only natural. You've cultivated for barely a month, yet you've already gained such understanding and seen through the truth of the dream. That's more than enough to earn my gift. Just keep it."

"Then I won't accept it yet."

"I'll try writing another one. But it won't be my own. I heard it once before."

Qi WuHuo took a step back and cupped his hands. Then he rolled up the couplet he had just written, took out another sheet of paper, and dipped his brush in ink.

He remembered a passage he had once seen in that dream he'd had since childhood.

The old man chuckled. He knew what sort of boy Qi WuHuo was.

He was determined to write a couplet that would satisfy him, wasn't he?

Qi WuHuo was a little too earnest. The old man didn't mind; in fact, he rather admired that quality. Still, he didn't think the boy could write something that would satisfy even him.

This [Life-Extending Elixir]—or rather, what it should really be called, the [First Revolution Golden Elixir]—

Was nothing special among his collection, but giving it away was still a great fortuitous encounter.

Their bond had run its course.

Unless Qi WuHuo surpassed his expectations, he wouldn't give him anything else, no matter what.

He never went back on his word.

Now, with the playful mood of an elder teasing a younger generation, he smiled and leaned closer to see what the boy would write.

This time, Qi WuHuo's brushstrokes were sharper and freer.

When the old man saw the words already on the page, the smile on his face faded slightly.

By the time Qi WuHuo had finished writing one line, there was no trace of amusement left in the old man's expression. He read it aloud, slowly:

"In the heavens, the White Jade Capital, with twelve towers and five cities."

"An immortal strokes my crown."

"I tie my hair and receive longevity..."

Plain and unadorned, yet calmly suffused with an immortal aura.

It rushed toward him like a tide.

The old man's hand stilled. His heart filled with a sigh.

...He had miscalculated.