Ren Changsheng went back to his room to rest, but that did not mean the matter was over.
On the contrary, the celebrations for the Ren Family—and even the Qionglai Sect—could finally begin in earnest!
While Pan Long went to the peach grove to see what had happened to the trees, the Qionglai Sect elders, led by Zen Master Wuming, and the Ren Family stewards, led by Elder Ren Yiyong, reached a consensus.
They would celebrate. Celebrate lavishly. Celebrate on a grand scale!
Pan Long spent quite some time examining the grove without finding anything extraordinary. Around a hundred peach trees had toppled, roots and all. That was no small number, but it was hardly enough to break the grove's bones.
At first glance, the trees were still lush with leaves and branches. A strange sheen even glimmered on the bark of several, as though they had changed into another kind of tree. Pan Long thought they might survive if replanted.
So he tried to right one and put it back in the ground.
Before he could cover its roots with soil, however, he heard his ancestor Ren Changsheng's voice.
"Don't waste your strength. These trees couldn't withstand the lingering resonance of the Great Dao, and they can't draw in the vast spiritual energy they need to sustain them. They've become something like sculptures. Leave them here and come back in a hundred years—or a thousand—and they'll look exactly as they do now."
Pan Long was startled. "Then are they alive or dead?"
"When you become an Immortal or Buddha, you'll understand that life and death aren't truly divided by an uncrossable chasm. These trees can't be called alive, but they certainly aren't dead either. If you insist on an answer, they've been frozen forever in the moment the Great