The library tower

"Have you heard? That fellow Mo Chen on the east side of our village is a man-eating monster!"

"Of course! His face hasn't changed in ten years. He still looks seventeen or eighteen!"

"Of all the people who grew up with him, who hasn't ended up with callused hands and sun-blackened skin after four or five years of farmwork?"

Two village women walked home from the market with vegetable baskets over their arms, talking in hushed voices.

He worked the fields under the wind and sun, yet his face hadn't changed in ten years. The town magistrate's advisor said Mo Chen was a ginseng spirit in human form.

The advisor had even secretly joined forces with bandits from the surrounding mountain strongholds. Tonight, they planned to come to Hidden Immortal Valley, capture Mo Chen, and cut off his hands and feet to make soup for everyone!

Every villager in Hidden Immortal Valley knew and kept quiet about it. Only the Mo Household had been left in the dark.

That evening, Mo Chen returned with firewood over his shoulder. Seeing an enormous pot set up on the village's open ground, he found it rather curious.

"Village chief, what's this big pot doing here?"

An old man saw Mo Chen approach and grinned. "Heh heh, the town advisor said there's a huge mountain pheasant weighing a hundred and fifty pounds roaming our mountains. If we help catch it, they'll chop off an arm on the spot and make soup for our village!"

"A hundred-and-fifty-pound pheasant? It must have become a spirit. Hope you catch it."

Mo Chen waved and headed home with his firewood. He still had to hurry up and split it, and he had no interest in getting mixed up in this bullshit.

Yet Mo Chen failed to notice the sinister looks the villagers gave him behind his back. He had no idea that he was the pheasant.

Once he reached home, his father seized him by the collar and shoved him into the cellar.

"Chen, run!"

Mo Chen stared blankly at the cloth bundle his father had thrust into his hands.

What the hell has gotten into everyone today?

"Your younger brother heard while working in town that the advisor has already surrounded our village. They want to catch you and cook you into soup!"

"What..."

Before Mo Chen's mind could take in this revelation, his father continued:

"The cellar leads to the sugarcane field. Then go find Old Li by the big banyan tree. His cellar leads to the foot of the mountain. Cross the mountains tonight and get out of Hidden Immortal Valley. Take the token to the capital, and never come back."

Before Mo Chen could say a word, his mother tossed another bundle down to him.

"Remember to change into black clothes!"

Following his father's instructions, Mo Chen climbed the mountain behind the village that night and looked back from the dense woods halfway up the slope.

Torches blazed everywhere. His mud-walled, thatch-roofed courtyard was surrounded three ranks deep, and the villagers' cries shook the sky.

"Hand over Mo Chen!"

"Hand over Mo Chen!"

"Hand over Mo Chen!"

Hearing those shouts, Mo Chen plunged into the mountain forest without looking back. No matter how he tried, he could not understand.

Why did they want to eat me?

As he hurried along, Mo Chen recalled the rumors from recent years.

"Mo Chen isn't human!"

"He's been sucking away the villagers' vital essence. Otherwise, why hasn't his face changed in ten years? Why doesn't he get hungry or thirsty?"

Fuck.

Mo Chen cursed furiously inwardly, regretting that when he was sixteen, he had told several village playmates that he never felt hungry or thirsty.

Disaster truly did come out of one's own mouth.

Back then, Mo Chen had even tested it himself.

Sure enough, he went five days without eating or drinking and still worked in the fields without tiring...

The following year, Mo Chen's appearance stopped changing altogether.

After crossing the mountains and leaving Hidden Immortal Valley, Mo Chen headed north.

After three years of countless hardships, Mo Chen finally reached the capital. He silently vowed that one day he would return to the village for revenge.

The town advisor, those wicked villagers, and the martial gangs that had come to his door.

Not one of them would escape.

In the Divine Land stood the Great Qian Dynasty, ruling a territory spanning countless miles. Its greatest library, Wenyuan Pavilion, stood beside the imperial city.

This was where Great Qian's martial and literary traditions converged, with crowds streaming through every day.

High officials, nobles, and wandering martial heroes all considered it an honor to enter the pavilion and read its volumes. To fight over a single incomplete manual of superior martial arts, martial practitioners often battled palace experts outside.

Mo Chen sat behind the most secluded desk in Wenyuan Pavilion, holding a writing brush as he meticulously copied a damaged volume of the Gazetteer of Great Qian.

To outsiders, Mo Chen looked barely twenty. Dressed in the drab gray robe of a minor clerk, he had delicate features but a composure utterly at odds with his apparent age.

For this year, Mo Chen was already eighty.

The work here was simple: arranging shelves, repairing damaged volumes, and serving tea to the important figures who visited.

In those important figures' eyes, Mo Chen was no more noticeable than the dust-covered paper in the pavilion.

Yet no one knew that this seemingly ordinary young man harbored a secret that could drive every emperor under heaven mad.

Mo Chen possessed an extraordinarily special fate.

Longevity.

An endless lifespan, an unchanging face.

Yet without the power to protect oneself, Longevity was a disaster.

"Old Mo in the village fathered a monster. He's almost thirty, but he still looks seventeen or eighteen. He must be a fox demon. Marry him, and he'll suck your blood!"

Even now, recalling what had happened in the village left Mo Chen shaken.

Those villagers really would have eaten him.

After escaping Hidden Immortal Valley, Mo Chen opened the cloth bundle. Inside were traveling expenses and a token.

His father had told him to do whatever it took to find their distant relative, who worked as a copyist in the capital.

After taking refuge with that relative, he had only become a copyist's assistant. But living under another's roof, having food to eat was already a tremendous blessing.

So Mo Chen grew even more forbearing. Whenever he helped copy books, he seized the chance to copy the pavilion's secret manual, the Disguise Art.

Though the Disguise Art was considered an unorthodox practice in the martial world, learning it was Mo Chen's foremost priority.

Because if anyone discovered that Mo Chen neither aged nor died, his fate would surely be to be locked away by powerful nobles in a secret chamber that never saw daylight, bled daily to refine pills. He would be unable to live freely or even seek death.

Thus, Mo Chen used the Disguise Art to change his appearance at regular intervals, fooling his relatives at court. Of course, perhaps his position was simply so insignificant that no one could be bothered to investigate.

In the end, twenty years of unwavering diligence allowed Mo Chen to take over the post of copyist at Great Qian's Wenyuan Pavilion.

Only after becoming a minor court clerk did Mo Chen dare send an official letter home.

Yet the reply came from his most trusted childhood friend.

It turned out that shortly after his father had sent him away to escape, wealthy landlords in town who craved Longevity had abducted his family and tortured them to death.

With his last hopes severed, Mo Chen could only settle down, conceal his abilities, and bide his time, firmly believing that one day he would have his revenge.

In his second year as a copyist, while arranging the pavilion's books, Mo Chen saw an otherworldly woman float gracefully into Wenyuan Pavilion. She wore a moon-white gown and was breathtakingly beautiful.

Most importantly, her feet hovered three inches above the ground, and not a speck of worldly dust touched her hem.

Lightness skills could never accomplish that.

The martial world's lightness skills merely allowed people to leap by pushing off surfaces, scaling walls and racing over rooftops. They could never keep someone hovering in midair...

"So this is an immortal cultivator..."

Mo Chen had copied many volumes of anecdotes and miscellaneous accounts during his duties, and he remembered the immortal cultivators described in them.

The female cultivator said plainly that her sect had sent her to seek records in mortal kingdoms concerning a hidden location.

Even with divine sense allowing a cultivator to learn a book's contents without opening it, searching all of Wenyuan Pavilion alone would take half a month. Thus, she simply asked Mo Chen to guide her using his years of familiarity with the collection.

After hearing her description of the secret realm, Mo Chen opened the Gazetteer of Great Qian, pointed out its possible locations, and explained them in detail.

Delighted by what she learned, the cultivator turned and floated toward the window.

But Mo Chen abruptly dropped to his knees and said respectfully, "Immortal master, you slay demons and vanquish evil, protecting all living beings."

Mo Chen held his bow, his voice carrying just the right measure of humility and hope. "This junior has long admired the immortal path. Through this slight thread of fate... I beseech you, immortal master, to spare a moment to test my Spiritual Root!"

"Your Spiritual Root? Heh heh heh."

Upon hearing that Mo Chen wanted his Spiritual Root tested, the woman actually laughed.

"Very well. Since you spared me some effort, I shall settle this thread of mortal karma."

She extended a jade-like finger and lightly pointed at the space between Mo Chen's brows from a distance.

Mo Chen instantly felt a current rush into his body, charging wildly through his meridians.

He clenched his teeth, not daring to make a sound.

In fewer than three breaths, the woman withdrew her finger and shook her head.

"You have an inferior Spiritual Root, but your meridians have already withered, no different from an old mortal's. Eight or nine out of ten Spirit Apertures are blocked, and they're as thin as gossamer."

Mo Chen took her words to heart. Though he had Immortality, he was indeed well into old age, and his meridians had shriveled.

But getting a cultivation method would still be a win.

Cultivation methods contained the secrets of drawing in qi to cultivate immortality. They were the key to entering the immortal path. I couldn't do without one!

"Besides, with aptitude like yours, absorbing spiritual qi would be a hundred times harder than for others. Even if you forced yourself to cultivate for your entire life, you would never reach the Qi Refining Third Layer."

Mo Chen remained on his knees, his expression ever more reverent, his manners ever more respectful.

"Immortals and mortals are different. Not everyone is qualified to cultivate. Since you like copying books, be content as a copyist and read more mortal writings. Living to a hundred and dying peacefully would be your good fortune."

With that, the woman raised her slender hand slightly.

A soft slap sounded.

A yellowed booklet landed before Mo Chen.

"This Black Turtle Breathing Method is a Water-Wood Dual Attribute cultivation method, which happens to suit your Spiritual Root. With meridians as weak as yours, practicing it can still strengthen your body and reduce illness and pain. It's yours!"

Suddenly, the cultivator leaped out the window, tossed out her Flying Sword, hovered in the air, and slowly descended. Mo Chen took the opportunity to hide the Black Turtle Breathing Method.

Meanwhile, palace experts had already reached Wenyuan Pavilion using their lightness skills.

"Tap, tap, tap..."

An exceptionally heavy, synchronized clatter of armor abruptly broke through Wenyuan Pavilion's bustle. After hiding the cultivation method, Mo Chen went downstairs and left the pavilion to respectfully welcome the emperor.

Over a hundred armored imperial guards bearing weapons had already surrounded Wenyuan Pavilion.

According to reports from the palace experts, a white-robed immortal had arrived riding a sword, flying toward Wenyuan Pavilion.

At the very front walked the aged emperor, the exalted ruler of the Great Qian Dynasty.

Yet now, this sovereign stood slightly stooped, approaching the female cultivator with a face full of fawning smiles.

The cultivator had come on her sect's orders to seek clues to an ancient ruin. Now that she had found them, she seemed to be in a good mood.

Seeing this, the old emperor seized the chance to pull forward several of his most outstanding princes and princesses, bowing and scraping as he begged the immortal maiden to show mercy and test the Great Qian imperial family's affinity for immortality.

The woman flicked her fingertips, sending several streaks of spiritual light into the princes' brows.

A moment later, she pointed at one prince who was trembling all over and said coolly, "A triple Spiritual Root. Barely acceptable, and your meridians are reasonably strong. You may follow me to the sect as a nominal disciple."

Overwhelmed with joy, the prince's knees gave way, and he kowtowed heavily in gratitude.

The old emperor was so excited that tears streamed down his aged face.

"This opportunity has run its course. Come stand beside me. I will take you back to the sect..."

With that, the cultivator cast another distant glance at Mo Chen.

Mo Chen's heart lurched, his limbs turning cold. It felt as though someone had seen straight through him, inside and out.

He immediately dropped to his knees. "This lowly one respectfully bids the immortal master farewell."

Before his words had faded, a clear, ringing sword cry sounded.

Without sparing the others another glance, the woman stepped onto her Flying Sword and soared into the sky with the prince, soon disappearing among the clouds.

After kneeling with his officials to see her off, the old emperor departed. Only the young princes who had not been chosen remained kneeling, staring blankly.

Watching the old emperor and officials leave, the three rejected princes naturally felt resentful.

Accustomed to being surrounded wherever they went like a moon among stars, they had experienced for the first time the collapse of their pride at being disregarded.

Thus, their eyes instantly filled with malice as they looked at Mo Chen.

A lowly clerk who swept floors and copied books dared bow in public to attract an immortal's attention and beg for an immortal opportunity?

Damn it, even I, a distinguished prince, wasn't chosen.

Why the hell were you showing off?

Hmph! A toad dreaming of eating swan flesh!

After coming to their senses and getting up, the princes even went out of their way to approach Mo Chen and kick him several times.

"Hmph, you lowly book-copying wretch! You don't even count as a sesame-seed-sized ninth-rank official, yet you wanted to show your face before an immortal and catch her attention! Did she give a damn about you? Pah!"

Each of the three rejected princes also spat on Mo Chen, their spittle landing on his clerk's cap.

"Let's see how high someone beneath even a petty ninth-rank official can climb."

"Let's go!"

Mo Chen maintained his humble posture until every footstep had faded completely, then slowly straightened.

His face showed neither the flushed shame of humiliation nor the angry defiance of a youth demanding not to be scorned for his poverty.

He simply returned to Wenyuan Pavilion, tidied up, and continued copying books.

I endured living under another's roof. What would it say about me if I couldn't swallow this insult?

I could cultivate little by little because I neither aged nor died. What about you?

Then Mo Chen picked up the Black Turtle Breathing Method, which the immortal had treated like a worn-out shoe, gently brushed the dust from its cover, and opened the first page.

Heaven rewarded diligence.

As long as one was willing to pour time into grinding away at something, there would surely be gains. There was no such thing as a bottleneck of aptitude.

Even the most stubborn rock could be pierced by dripping water, given enough time.

"Whew..."

Mo Chen exhaled a breath of stale air, carefully tucked the booklet inside his robe against his chest, and looked out the window at the capital's streets, bustling with carts and horses. His lips curved slightly.

"An entire lifetime, and I still couldn't cross the threshold?"

Mo Chen picked up a rag and leisurely wiped the ink stains from the desk, replaced the sheet of paper, and began dissecting the Black Turtle Breathing Method word by word, sentence by sentence.

"Well, what a coincidence."

"I might not have much else, but time is the one thing I have plenty of."