Qi WuHuo wrote only these four lines, then set down his brush.
The old man stroked his beard and softly recited the couplet—or perhaps it should be called a four-line poem. Finding its words plain and simple, yet imbued with an unhurried, immortal air, he suddenly chuckled to himself, looking rather pleased. "One shouldn't speak with such certainty, after all."
"WuHuo, did you write this?"
Qi WuHuo shook his head and answered candidly, "I don't have that kind of talent."
"I saw these lines in a dream. They were written by someone called Qinglian Jushi. I haven't heard any of his other poems, but I suppose they could work as a couplet, too."
The old man stroked his beard and smiled.
"Good."
Then he said with regret, "It looks like I can't give you the elixir after all."
The old man swept his sleeve, and the Longevity Elixir on the table disappeared. Then he reached into his sleeve and drew out an object: a scroll of scripture. Its material looked ancient and unadorned, and every character on it was the same kind as those on the Mountain God Talisman Seal, like clouds shifting and changing without end, as if revealing the wondrous principles of the Daoist school.
The characters rose and fell, seeming ready to fly straight off the scroll and transform into birds, rosy clouds, moonlight, and all manner of things.
The old man stroked his beard and smiled. "Since that's the case, this is for you."
"This is the foremost of all methods. An ordinary person who cultivates it can attain Three Flowers Gathering at the Crown and Five Qi Facing the Origin."
"Understand the secrets of Heaven, comprehend all things, and know their transformations."
"Divine Abilities and Marvelous Dharma, profound and wondrous at will."
"If you cultivate it, within a hundred years you should become a True Person of the Current Era. If you're willing to accept the Heavenly Emperor's Edict, you could also serve as an immortal official. That would be the end of it; with steady progress in your cultivation, and if you persevere and encounter further opportunities, you might one day be called a Star Lord or a Primordial Lord, with an altar of worship in the Human World. That's not entirely impossible. By then, you'd be free and at ease, traveling to the North Sea in the morning and Mount Cangwu by dusk. How does that sound?"
He was directly imparting a Daoist scripture and its methods.
A scripture of this caliber would be one of the top core inheritances among the great Daoist sects of the Human World today.
If the elixir from before offered one person a life of freedom, then this scripture could establish a lineage of cultivation lasting a thousand years.
And now it was laid right before Qi WuHuo.
Qi WuHuo naturally wanted to receive the scripture, but he still asked, "Are you satisfied, old man?"
The old man stroked his beard for a long while, then smiled and replied, "Those lines brim with immortal air. No ordinary person could have written them."
"But in the end, they were written from the perspective of one person. To me, they have enough immortal air, but they feel like the work of some exceptionally gifted disciple. They'd do as something for my collection, but as my Daoist couplet, they lack a little boldness."
The boy didn't understand.
The old man answered calmly with a smile:
"The world is vast. Throughout all ages, no one has yet dared to say—"
"Grant me eternal life."
Qi WuHuo opened his mouth, then suddenly felt that the poem was ill-suited to the moment.
"Boldness alone isn't enough, either. There are Daoist sects in the Human World that write all sorts of couplets above their mountain gates. For example, this one..."
The old man casually rapped a finger.
A drop of water flew from the teacup and transformed into a scene. In an instant, the landscape shifted, and it was as though they had arrived atop a mountain. Qi WuHuo froze and looked around. He saw lofty peaks, and a sky ablaze with rosy clouds, like the dwelling place of immortals. Figures transformed into streaks of light, darting back and forth like lightning. At the highest point among the clouds stood a Daoist temple, plain and unassuming, with a couplet hanging in front.
Qi WuHuo's eyes widened as he looked around.
His usually composed face revealed a youthful eagerness to give it a try.
The old man smiled. "Why don't you try?"
Qi WuHuo didn't yet understand what he meant, but he sensed something mysterious, as if he could control the scene conjured by that drop of water. His Primordial Spirit stirred instinctively, and the scene instantly drew closer, crossing the layers of mysterious mountaintops and temples until it reached the front of that plain Daoist temple.
Someone was meditating inside.
Before it hung a couplet.
"The Dao runs through yin and yang, its numinous reach spanning the Three Realms, where Earth Treasury presides."
"Clouds stretch across Mount Tai; ten thousand mountains bow their heads to worship the Celestial Worthy!"
It was magnificent in scale.
Qi WuHuo controlled the scene with his own Primordial Spirit, guiding it to circle above the temple. He saw flowers bloom and fall, and the waves of rosy clouds surge. Delighted, he drew closer to look at the couplet. But his cultivation was still insufficient, and he failed to maintain control.
A trace of his aura leaked out.
In an instant, the drop of water could no longer maintain its perfectly rounded form, and burst apart.
As it shattered, Qi WuHuo seemed to see the Daoist meditating inside the temple stir awake and begin to open his eyes.
But before he could see those eyes open, the scene around him crumbled. He felt himself falling from the Ninth Heaven. All things seemed to abandon him; the clouds and rosy light collapsed together. His face paled slightly, and he swept his sleeve. Even the sheet of white paper on the table, bearing the poem he had written, fluttered away and fell, truly dropping into the sea of clouds, the surging waves, and the Daoist temple.
Qi WuHuo nearly thought he was about to fall, too. He instinctively reached out and grabbed the old man's sleeve beside him, but suddenly felt a coolness at the center of his brow. He came to his senses: the drop of tea had fallen. That was all.
The old man roared with laughter.
The boy's face flushed slightly. He let go of the old man's sleeve and said, "I just... have a bit of a fear of heights."
In front of the old man, he still couldn't help revealing some of a young boy's spirited energy. He raised both hands and hastily wiped his forehead, then sat up straight and steady, stiffly maintaining his composure and staring straight ahead. Only the tips of his ears were bright red.
"Just a little. A tiny bit."
The old man laughed aloud and pointed at him.
"Impressive, impressive!"
"I've never seen a Mountain God who was afraid of heights."
Qi WuHuo's lips moved, but he didn't know what to say.
The old man let the matter drop and stopped teasing the boy, who was so young yet so prematurely mature. Stroking his beard, he smiled and said:
"You saw that couplet just now. The lineages of the Daoist sects in the Human World often favor that sort of style."
"Either they worship the Celestial Worthy, or they face the Ninth Heaven. It's not that those are bad; I simply don't care for them."
"As if someone with ten thousand taels of gold and silver in their household had to announce it to the whole world."
"If it's not that sort of style, then it's something like 'Mount Tai cleaves open primordial chaos; watch the Purple Firmament rise, golden halls glow with rosy light, and the peals of a few clear bells ring constantly in your ears,' or 'A gentle breeze melts away the principles of justice; witness the fading of hegemonic ambitions, the mists that shroud immortal traces, and the righteous Dao that lingers in the heart for a thousand autumns.' Those aren't carefree enough."
"It should be serene and composed, carefree and brimming with immortal air, without being overly fussy and dull."
"Can you do that, WuHuo?"
"Above all, it has to be from my own perspective."
The old man watched him with playful amusement, making things difficult for him.
But he truly meant to give the boy this scroll of scripture. It was more than enough to serve as a means of protecting himself.
The boy thought for a moment, then suddenly said, "I can."
The old man was surprised.
Qi WuHuo searched his memory. The words were still from a dream.
In one story, a Daoist named Zhenyuanzi had written a couplet.
It was something he had seen only in a dream, words from a story—fiction, not reality. Surely it would be all right.
The old man before him was every bit as powerful as the figure in that story.
Qi WuHuo dipped his brush in ink and wrote.
The old man was surprised. Stroking his beard, he lowered his eyes and watched the boy write. Then he read aloud:
"Immortal's Mansion of Eternal Life."
"Daoist's Household Sharing Heaven's Longevity."
Was it domineering? Not at all. It simply called itself an ordinary Daoist's household.
Yet its unhurried ease, its steady, composed delivery, its majestic bearing and boundless immortal air seemed to fill the entire page.
Eternal life, longevity shared with Heaven.
And that was nothing more than the home of an ordinary Daoist.
The words were not as fine as the poem before, but their spirit truly belonged to a high Daoist master.
Composed and unhurried.
Grand and majestic.
The old man stroked his beard and recited the lines several times, then suddenly burst out laughing. "Good, very good!"
"I like it very much!"
"Well, it seems I can't give you this scroll of scripture either. Hahaha!"
The old man reached out and put the Daoist scripture away. Then he laid a hand on Qi WuHuo's head, delighted beyond measure.
"From this day on, I'll remember your name!"
"Three days from now, I'm going to meet someone."
"Then..."
"WuHuo, you'll come with me."
"I won't give you an elixir or a method. The gift I'll give you is an opportunity. How does that sound?!"
Before you continue