Li Changshou had understood one truth in his previous life—
In life, there were always many sudden turns, and one inevitable experience: going suddenly bald.
So one had to learn to thank oneself, thank fate for all its blind tossing about, and thank oneself for everything one did to toss fate about in return.
Take this very moment, for instance. Li Changshou was deeply grateful that the Primordial Wilderness stage play he had put together over the past dozen years—"Yang Jian Descends the Mountain"—had allowed him...
To find a bit of common ground with his Sage Teacher!
On the twenty-first day after arriving at Taiqing Temple, Li Changshou had nearly all his attention returned to his true body, ensuring that whenever his teacher spoke, he could give a correct, timely, reasonable answer that suited his teacher's wishes.
Communicating with a Sage was truly too troublesome.
For one thing, Li Changshou now seriously suspected that his teacher had transcended the rules of the Primordial Wilderness, causing some disorder in his own sense of the "laws of time."
A scale of three years meant "soon."
The interval between each utterance was fixed at "half a month."
A mortal's hurried few decades of life probably seemed to his teacher like mayflies born at dawn and dead by dusk.
Perhaps the vast ages this world had existed had made his teacher forget the proper scale of time.
Li Changshou sighed inwardly and pressed down the many reflections weighing on his heart.
For no reason at all, he found himself holding Teacher Taiqing in a little more awe, with a little more respect.
How tranquil, how smooth must one's Dao heart be for the years to flow past unnoticed, without raising too many ripples?
Was this what it meant to stand at the pinnacle of