But What If It's the Path to Immortality?

The City God's eyes swept over immediately. The Martial Judge picked up the iron brush from the ground, his hand trembling slightly beneath his sleeve.

"There truly are such divine beings in this world..."

"This humble official was momentarily lost in listening."

His voice was hoarse. He wore a red-and-black battle robe, with a cyan face and fanged teeth, eyes wide in fury. The Martial Judge had always been a ghostly official who punished sinners and suppressed evil, enforcing penalties with utmost majesty. His iron brush marked the end of life and death, inscribing guilt with every stroke.

How could he have dropped the iron brush to the ground just from being lost in listening?

Nearby, the Civil Judge and the Day Wanderer and Night Spirit also sensed something amiss and looked over.

The City God stared intently at him.

He spoke slowly: "Even as ghosts and deities, one must hold reverence in their hearts."

"There are so many wild and licentious shrines in the mountains and wilds. The Day Wanderer and Night Spirit patrol day and night without rest or oversight, yet we have never once heard of this so-called Fourth Young Master Temple."

"Martial Judge, how is this so?"

The Martial Judge's face turned ashen. He trembled in fear, sweat pouring like syrup.

He slowly lowered his head.

He lifted his crimson official robe and knelt down.

The City God pressed his lips together, somewhat disappointed. He looked at the man kneeling before him, sighed deeply, and asked: "Will you speak on your own, or must you go argue your case before the immortal?"

"What kind of thing is this Fourth Young Master Temple, that it can even drive my City God Temple's judge to cover for it?"

The Martial Judge knew he had done wrong. He had never imagined that immortals truly existed in this world.

Prostrate on the ground, he said:

"This humble official watched the Fourth Young Master Temple being built with his own eyes. It was a Daoist from Ru Prefecture, skilled in some sorcery, resembling the old alchemists of ancient times."

"He used his arts to build the temple, employing the method of turning stone into gold. He demanded incense offerings from mortals to aid his cultivation."

The City God asked.

"Turning stone into gold?"

"Yes. This humble official also witnessed the method. He blended Cinnabar, Realgar, Orpiment, Alum, and Zengqing—these five minerals—and used a wondrous technique to transform them into gold. The worshippers at the temple sought nothing more than gold and silver, common worldly goods, and could obtain them through this."

The City God stroked his beard.

"If he could turn stone into gold, why did he still need wealth? And why set the donations so high?"

The Martial Judge remained prostrate.

"That Daoist said that ordinary men are heavy with desire. The greater the cost, the greater their longing. Using this as his path, his foundation of the Way would grow deep."

"Because mortals cannot control their own greed."

The City God asked again.

"Then why did you help him? You are a ghostly official, a deity enshrined by imperial decree. What did he promise you?"

The Martial Judge was silent for a moment. He said in a low voice:

"Merit, fame, rank, and fortune are but fleeting clouds to ghosts and deities."

"But what about the path to eternal life?"

The City God was also silent for a moment.

He asked: "What was that Daoist's name? What Daoist title did he take?"

"A man from Ru Prefecture, named Zhou Ling, who styled himself Master Golden Origin. To attract worshippers, he named the temple the Fourth Young Master Temple, and he was also called the Fourth Young Master."

"Does he have a master or teacher? The immortal will need to question him in detail."

A young Daoist, his figure faint and ethereal, slowly emerged from within the statue. He wore a black Daoist robe embroidered with crimson flame patterns, magnificent and exquisite.

His hair was loose, not tied up—wild and unrestrained, unbound by convention.

At the same time, a certain shift seemed to occur in the air, sealing off this ten-foot space so that the worshippers outside could neither hear nor see.

The Daoist walked before the group.

He appraised these four: an immortal, a mountain god, a Daoist, and a mortal.

Oh, and a village child as well.

He folded his sleeves and bowed to Jiang She.

He asked with a smile.

"Is the exalted immortal feeling displeased?"

The Daoist laughed: "I suspect that when the exalted immortal set foot in Ru Prefecture, you already sensed this humble little temple of mine. You were quite patient, letting that child stumble about like a fly without ever urging him on."

The Old Deer Mountain God watched with curiosity.

As the lord of the mountains and rivers, he had punished many heretical paths under his jurisdiction before. Most of them begged for mercy or pleaded for leniency. This man, however, spoke with a smile, showing no concern at all for his own fate.

A rare sight.

Jiang She did not respond.

He listened for a while. Among those who came to pray, some were driven by greed for profit; others cursed their elder brothers to death so they could inherit the family estate; and there were those past forty, hoping to climb the social ladder and make their dreams of wealth come true.

A faint black aura gathered on their foreheads—most of their wishes had already been granted, it seemed.

This "Fourth Young Master" had fulfilled them.

Jiang She asked, "Why grant them what they desire in their hearts?"

The Daoist was candid. He replied:

"When people come seeking, why not grant them a little? At most, it's gold and silver, common goods—nothing rare."

The Old Deer Mountain God watched from the side for a while.

He hit the nail on the head: "You seek incense offerings. You seek the power of believers' faith."

The Daoist did not deny it.

"I suppose in the eyes of true immortals, this is nothing but heresy and deviant arts."

As he spoke, he burst into laughter.

His gaze swept across the resplendent hall, passed over the kneeling worshippers filling the temple, and looked out toward the mountains beyond.

The Daoist "Fourth Young Master" said, "But without this heresy and these deviant arts, how could we who seek immortality obtain the method of eternal life? How could the worshippers in this hall gain wealth? How could they win fame and rank?"

"We cannot be like the green mountains, ageless."

"But we seek a glimpse of the immortal path."

"To live as long as heaven and earth."

"What difference is there between a man's short life and a mayfly's? I suspect that while an immortal idly sits in meditation or plays in the mortal world, a common man has already lived out his entire life."

"Even ghosts and gods cannot escape the shackles of lifespan."

"Each day that passes, one's years diminish by one. And with no progress made, no fate encountered, the end draws near—fear and dread take root in the heart."

Having said this, the Daoist "Fourth Young Master" laughed loudly.

Every word seemed squeezed out from between his teeth, almost gnashed out.

"But I refuse to be like that!"

"I seek... eternal... life!"

Yuan Danqiu and Li Bai listened, entranced. Seeing this man laugh until tears formed, seeing his utter loathing of death, they thought of all those throughout history who had sought immortality and the Dao. Their hearts could not settle.

Would they themselves one day be like this?

The village boy could not quite understand. Seeing the man who had stepped out from the statue suddenly burst into laughter, he was startled and couldn't help stepping back a few paces.

Jiang She listened quietly to his words.

He could not help but recall that day—the Earth Deity's night banquet, the wailing of the host of demons.

Lifespan. Lifespan—so short, yet so fair. Whether emperor or servant, whether Daoist seeking the path or mountain demon, all must one day meet their end.

And how one views life and death—

That is the difference in one's nature.

To face death with equanimity—that is the highest grade.

When Zhuangzi's wife died, he beat on a pot and sang. Ji Kang played "Guangling" and faced death calmly. Even the fierce tiger in the mountains knows that death comes first, and then life.

To laugh at life and death, to mock and transcend them.

Jiang She stroked the cat in his arms, rubbed its ears, and covered them.

He asked, "You saw that man's elder brother die because of you. Do you regret it?"

"Not at all."

The Daoist spoke decisively. Ever since he sensed the immortal's arrival, he had already known his own outcome.

He straightened his robes and sat upright on the ground.

Knowing the consequences, his words were especially calm:

"I entered the Dao at sixteen. Since I began cultivating, aside from failing to attain the Great Way of immortality, I have no regrets in this life."

Jiang She looked at the incense smoke in the temple.

"I see."

"Lost in delusion, unable to find the way—that is somewhat regrettable."

Even as he said this, his voice held no trace of sorrow.

I was a bit short on time when writing this chapter, so I might revise it later.

Follows are very important for a new book. I'm asking for follows here qaq. I'll try to update more after it goes on the shelves.