But What If It Was the Path to Immortality?

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

"There really are such immortals in this world..."

"This subordinate was so engrossed that I lost myself for a moment."

His voice was hoarse. He wore a red-and-black military robe, with a green face, fangs, and glaring eyes. The Martial Judge had always been a fearsome ghost-god who punished sinners, suppressed evil, and enforced the law. The iron brush in his hand could sever life and death; a single stroke determined guilt.

How could he have dropped his iron brush just because he was engrossed in what he heard?

Beside him, the Civil Judge and the Day Wanderer and Night Spirit also sensed something amiss and turned to look.

The City God stared intently at him.

He spoke slowly. "Those who serve as gods and spirits must also have a heart of reverence."

"There are countless illicit shrines in the wilderness. The Day Wanderer and Night Spirit keep watch day and night, never resting or neglecting their duty. Yet none of us has ever heard of this so-called Fourth Young Master Temple."

"Martial Judge, how do you explain this?"

The Martial Judge's face turned ashen. He trembled with fear, sweat pouring from him like rain.

He slowly lowered his head.

He lifted the hem of his crimson official robe and knelt.

The City God pressed his lips together, looking somewhat disappointed as he watched the Martial Judge kneel. He sighed deeply and asked, "Will you speak for yourself, or would you rather plead your case before the immortal?"

"What kind of thing is this Fourth Young Master Temple, that it can even make a judge from my City God Temple do its bidding and cover for it?"

The Martial Judge knew he had gone astray. He had never imagined there could be immortals in this world.

Prostrate on the ground, he said:

"I watched the Fourth Young Master Temple being built with my own eyes. It was a Daoist from Ru Prefecture. He knew some magic and seemed like those ancient fangshi."

"He used magic to build the temple. His method was to turn stone into gold, and he demanded incense offerings from mortals to aid his cultivation."

The City God asked,

"Turn stone into gold?"

"Yes. This subordinate witnessed the method too. He mixed cinnabar, realgar, orpiment, alum, and zengqing—the five minerals—and used a wondrous art to transmute them into gold. The temple's worshippers sought nothing more than vulgar things like gold and silver, which they could obtain there."

The City God stroked his beard.

"If he can turn stone into gold, why does he still need money? Why are the required donations set so high?"

The Martial Judge remained prostrate.

"That fangshi said mortals are ruled by desire. The more they expend, the more they seek. If one cultivates the Dao through this, one's foundation becomes deeper."

"Because mortals can't control their greed."

The City God asked again:

"Then why did you help him? You are a ghost official, a deity invested with an imperial title. What did he promise you?"

The Martial Judge fell silent for a while, then spoke in a low voice.

"Fame, fortune, and profit are fleeting clouds in the eyes of gods and spirits."

"But what if it was the path to immortality?"

The City God was silent for a while too.

He asked, "What was the fangshi's name, and what Daoist title did he use?"

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

"Did he have a teacher or elders? The immortal wishes to investigate further."

A young Daoist's figure emerged slowly from the statue, faint and insubstantial. He wore a black Daoist robe embroidered with red flame-and-cinnabar patterns, exceptionally ornate.

His hair hung loose, untied. He was aloof and unconventional, heedless of etiquette and propriety.

At the same time, something seemed to shift in the air, sealing off the space within a zhang so that the worshippers outside could neither hear nor see them.

The Daoist walked up to the group.

He sized up the four before him: an immortal, a mountain god, a Daoist, and a mortal.

Oh, and a village boy too.

He gathered his sleeves and saluted Jiang She.

Then he asked with a smile,

"Does the immortal have some question?"

The Daoist smiled. "I'm afraid you sensed my little shrine as soon as you arrived in Ru Prefecture. You were certainly patient, letting that boy buzz around like a fly without urging him on."

Old Deer Mountain God watched with interest.

As master of the mountains and rivers, he had punished unorthodox practitioners under his jurisdiction before. Most begged and pleaded for mercy. This man was still smiling as he spoke, wholly unconcerned with what might become of him.

That was a rare sight.

Jiang She did not reply.

He had overheard the wishes of those who came to worship. Some harbored thoughts of making a profit; some cursed their elder brothers, wishing them dead so they could inherit the family fortune; others, past forty, dreamed of marrying into a powerful family and making their fantasies come true, all for the sake of money.

Faint black qi had appeared above their brows. It seemed most of their wishes had already come true.

This "Fourth Young Master" had granted them their wishes.

Jiang She asked, "Why grant their heart's desires?"

The Daoist answered frankly,

"They have something they desire, so they come to worship me. Why not grant them a little of it? It's only vulgar things like gold and silver, nothing rare."

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

Then he put his finger right on it. "You want incense and the willpower of worshippers."

The Daoist did not deny it.

"In the eyes of true immortals, I'm probably a heretic."

As he spoke, he burst into laughter.

His gaze swept over the resplendent hall, passed over the worshippers kneeling throughout it, and turned toward the mountains beyond.

The Daoist "Fourth Young Master" said, "But without these heretical ways, how could people like us obtain the art of immortality? Can the worshippers in this hall gain wealth? Can they attain fame?"

"We cannot be as eternal as the green mountains."

"But we can still seek a glimpse of the Immortal Dao."

"And immortality alongside Heaven and Earth."

"Human life is brief. How are we any different from mayflies? Perhaps an immortal merely sits in meditation or wanders through the mortal world for a while, and an ordinary person's whole life has already passed."

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

"With every passing day, our lives grow shorter by a day. We make no progress, find no path to enlightenment, and watch death draw near, our hearts filled with fear and dread."

At this, the Daoist "Fourth Young Master" burst into laughter.

Each word seemed to be forced out through gritted teeth, as if he were gnashing them.

"I refuse to be like that!"

"I want... immortality!"

Yuan Danqiu and Li Bai listened, spellbound. Seeing the man laugh until tears sprang to his eyes, seeing how deeply he loathed death, they thought of all those throughout history who had sought immortality and the Dao. Their hearts could not remain calm.

Would they one day become like this?

The village boy could barely understand. When the man who had emerged from the statue suddenly burst into laughter, he jumped in fright and couldn't help taking two steps back.

Jiang She listened to him quietly.

He couldn't help thinking of that day: at the Earth Deity's night banquet, all the demons had wept bitterly.

Lifespan, lifespan—so fleeting, so fair. Whether emperor or servant, whether Daoist seeking immortality or demon in the mountains, all would reach the end of their lives one day.

And how one faced life and death—

That was where character showed its difference.

To face life and death with equanimity was the highest way.

When Zhuangzi's wife died, he beat a basin and sang. Ji Kang played Guangling San and went calmly to his death. Even the Fierce Tiger in the mountains knew that death came first, and then life.

They treated life and death as a joke, with irreverence and detachment.

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

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

"Not at all."

The Daoist answered decisively. Ever since he sensed the immortal's arrival, he had already known what would become of him.

He straightened his robes and sat upright on the ground.

Knowing what awaited him, he spoke with unusual composure.

"I entered the Dao at sixteen. Since beginning my cultivation, I have had no regrets in life—except that I could not attain the Great Dao of Immortality."

Jiang She looked toward the incense burning in the temple.

"I see."

"It's a pity you were deluded and failed to attain it."

Though he said this, there was no regret in his voice.

When I wrote this chapter, I was a little short on time. I may revise it later.

Following along is very important for a new book, so I'm asking you to follow along here, qaq. I'll try to post more once it's available for purchase.