Unintended Immortality

Once inside the city, the ground was noticeably cleaner, so walking became much easier.

The Daoist strolled leisurely along the street, passing through the city. He slowly made his way back to Willow Tree Street.

The willow trees were lush and green in the height of summer, and there was a small building with a flag bearing the character “Dao” at the entrance. The shop sign read “Rodent Extermination,” but the main door was tightly locked. There were no vendors setting up stalls outside, making it quite tranquil.

It seemed as if no one knew that the recent uproar concerning the Grand Commander’s residence was caused by the Daoist living here.

The Daoist walked over and opened the door.

“Creak…” He opened the door and then closed it behind him.

However, the wooden door wasn’t very secure; the afternoon sunlight streamed through the cracks, casting slanted beams of light across the dim room. At first, his eyes weren’t used to the light, and he felt it was a bit dark. But after a moment, he was able to catch the scattered rays illuminating the interior.

There was hardly any change in the house.

The dim room contrasted sharply with the bright light outside, the blazing sun with the coolness inside, creating a typical summer atmosphere.

“Sigh…” The Daoist sighed, unloaded his satchel, and plopped down onto a tall stool.

“Sigh…” There was another soft, gentle sigh.

A little girl in a three-colored dress mimicked his sigh and, turning her back to the tall stool, jumped up beside him to look over at him. Resting after labor was the best feeling ever.

The Daoist sat there, and the girl followed suit, both unconcerned about the passage of time.

As dusk approached and the Daoist grew tired of sitting, he finally stood up to retrieve his bundle.

The little girl jumped down from the tall stool and followed him, tilting her body and cocking her head to watch him unfasten the oilcloth, open the box, and take out the painting. The Daoist ignored her in this process.

This painting, when rolled up, was over a person's length. But when unfolded, it transformed into its width, becoming a horizontal scroll that was nearly as long as a person.

A horizontal scroll, also known as a hanging scroll, was primarily distinguished from a hand scroll by its ability to be hung on the wall.

Song You ascended to the second floor and surveyed the room. The room was neither large nor small. Due to their poverty, the walls were bare, offering a plain surface.

He took out the hooks he had purchased on the way and carefully measured the width. Pressing it against the wall, it embedded itself deeply into the surface. He carefully hung the painting, and it fit perfectly.

The Daoist then stood in the room in front of the painting, quietly admiring it and contemplating its profoundness.

At some point, the little girl had transformed back into a cat and was crouching at his feet, silently gazing up at the painting with him.

He had already seen the painting once in front of Dr. Cai’s hut on Mount Beiqin, but seeing it again now filled him with awe, as he had new insights. Moreover, hanging it up and observing it closely was, of course, different from the rough display Master Dou had given him on the mountain.

The painting exuded a spirit resonance and profound mysteries that were breathtaking.

Who said that the spiritual resonance and profound mysteries were exclusive to Dao cultivators?

Both Master Dou from back then and Master Kong today were merely mortals; yet, their skills reached the divine. When Master Dou wielded his brush, he created a world, and when Master Kong chiseled with his knife, a wooden cat came to life. How many Dao cultivators, in the past and the future could achieve such mastery?

Counting the ancestors of Hidden Dragon Temple throughout the generations, each had their strengths, but how many have reached the end of their chosen path? How many possessed the skill in cultivation that matched Master Dou's artistry in painting or Master Kong's craftsmanship in sculpture?

Could this not be called divine?

What was even more astonishing was this process.

The Daoist couldn’t help but ponder again, just like he had at Master Kong’s home in Yizhou. What kind of world was this?

A painting that was originally ordinary—no matter how advanced the technique, no matter how exquisite the pigments, no matter how rare the paper—how could it possibly connect with the profound mysteries of the world, nurturing natural spiritual resonance, and ultimately form a world of its own?n/ô/vel/b//jn dot c//om

Within this process lay an extraordinary answer. It represented the essence of the world and the endpoint of the Dao.

Back at Master Kong’s home in Yizhou, everything had been fleeting and unclear. Song You couldn't leave behind the cat that sought freedom simply because he wanted to cultivate or gain insights. Now, it was different; this painting hung in his home, allowing him to look at it slowly. He could reflect on it gradually, and ponder over it at his own pace.

This journey truly felt like a remarkable opportunity. He had to thank Master Dou, and thank Sir Dou once more.

Now that he observed it, he grew increasingly amazed. He was gradually captivated by its spirituality and profound mysteries, unable to pull himself away.

Time passed without his notice.

The cat at his feet had yawned countless times and changed its posture many times. It left and returned repeatedly, occasionally glancing at the Daoist, tugging at his pant leg. When it saw him ignoring it, it would give up and lay its paws down as it shook its head. It would wander off to play for a while, only to return after some time.

This back and forth continued.

The sky gradually darkened, and the painting became indistinct. The Daoist suddenly jolted awake.

Looking down, he saw the cat beside him, lying on the ground yawning but mimicking him, gazing up at the painting. As if sensing something, she turned her head to meet his gaze.

The Daoist pondered for a moment, gaining some clarity, and looked back at the painting.

Just now, in his daze, he had lost track of time. Because of the earlier experience at Yunding Mountain, he was afraid that if he stayed here, he would unknowingly lose a long stretch of time again.

However, reflecting now, the reason he had lost track of time was merely because he was immersed in the painting—immersed too deeply, not due to any more profound matter. And every kind of insight in the world should be unique. Although this painting hid a rare spiritual resonance and profound mysteries, everything at this moment was different from the situation at Yunding Mountain.

That experience, after all, was likely impossible to replicate.

Moreover, since he was viewing a painting, he wouldn't be able to see it anymore once it got dark.

“Daoist priest, what’s wrong with you?”

“It’s nothing,” the Daoist replied, lowering his head to ask, “Are you also watching the painting with me?”

“Since you’re looking at it, I’ll look too.”

“Have you discerned any insights?”

“What do you mean by insights?”

“Just insights.”

“Then what insights have you discerned?”

“I’ve discerned a little.”

“Then I’ve also discerned a little!”

“Is that so?” The Daoist nodded, feeling quite pleased.

Since the Daoist was watching the painting here, Lady Calico naturally had to be here as well. If the Daoist could discern some insights, then it was only right that Lady Calico could discern a little too.

The Daoist then extended his hand, flicking his fingers, and several streams of spiritual energy flew into the painting before vanishing without a trace.

He then turned around and went downstairs.

Having walked a lot of muddy paths over the past two days, his shoes were caked with mud, and his Daoist robe had also gotten quite dirty. Taking advantage of the remaining daylight, he needed to wash them.

The calico cat shook its head and immediately perked up, its four little paws scurrying quickly as it followed him downstairs, then sitting beside him to observe as he washed his clothes.

It stood out as a loyal companion.

“Daoist priest, why don’t you change into another outfit? That way, it wouldn’t get dirty and you wouldn’t need to wash it.”

“I don’t have your ability.”

“You’re very impressive!”

“But I’m still not as impressive as you, Lady Calico.”

“That’s true!”

The Daoist continued to keep his head down, diligently washing.

In the following days, the Daoist only opened and closed the door a few times to go out and buy meals; otherwise, the main door remained tightly locked. Sometimes, he wouldn’t even go out for food, instead asking Lady Calico to go.

Most of the time, he stood upstairs, facing the painting on the wall. He would stand there for an entire day.

Just in time, he had received the ten taels of silver given by the water ghost at Jade Belt River. The money borrowed by Heroine Wu from people in the jianghu and her earnings from selling swords and knives at the ghost market had also been shared, with more than half going to Lady Calico. Over these days, the Daoist and Lady Calico didn’t need to cook for themselves and could eat out every day.

This was also a good opportunity to teach Lady Calico the concept of money, how to use it, and how to interact with people to avoid being deceived in the future. It would also help her practice her arithmetic skills.

A little praise when they returned would give her a sense of accomplishment. It was a way to show his attitude.

Just like when the Daoist left the city on a brief visit, though it seemed like only a few short days, the tightly shut door and the removal of the “Exorcism” sign were enough to signal his attitude, thoughts, and preferences to the powerful and elite who received the news. Now that he was back home, he could easily open the door, but leaving it closed for a few more days would serve as a clearer signal.

After some time, when he finally opened it, most of the perceptive, understanding, and polite individuals would no longer come around.

Lady Calico often transformed into human form to write downstairs for most of the day, occasionally coming upstairs to glance at him.

Sometimes, she would turn back into a cat and run out to play. She would catch cicadas on the willow trees, sunbathe at the door for a nap, or engage in playful fights with other cats. Naturally, the nightly mouse-catching sessions were also a must.

The heroine had sent over some grass ropes she had woven for them to repel mosquitoes. In return, Lady Calico presented a few mice as a gift.

Until one evening at the end of May, the Daoist finally took a break. He stretched and stepped outside. He changed into a set of ordinary clothes and went out for a walk.

With the approach of the three hottest periods in the summer, the heat increased day by day. The weather often felt muggy, only to cool off a bit by evening. However, there was a breeze this evening, making it pleasantly refreshing.

After wandering around for a bit, he arrived at a teahouse diagonally across the street. He ordered a pot of good tea and sat in a corner to sip it slowly.

He waited for the light to dim.

Changjing didn't have a nighttime curfew, and there were still quite a few people enjoying tea in the evening. Some were playing gambling games, others were listening to storytellers, and some gathered to share things that were meant only for friends.

Next door, a few scholars were drinking tea while appreciating celebrated writings. Song You listened for a moment and quickly realized that it was a record of the incident on Yunding Mountain written by Cui Nanxi.

“Master Cui's article is indeed well written. Finally, we have a good piece of work,” one scholar nodded and said.

“Master Cui is well-educated and talented, with outstanding writing skills. However, he has long been confined to books and has not ventured into the vast world,” another scholar replied. “But since Master Cui was exiled to the remote region of Pingzhou, his perspective and mindset have naturally changed, especially after encountering an immortal; thus, it’s no surprise he produced such a fine piece.”

“In my view, it also benefited from the immortal's aura. This story is inherently intriguing; if he just writes it truthfully, it will be a masterpiece. If it’s well-written, it may be able to endure through the ages.”

“Mr. Ou Tai, you make a valid point…”

“However, Master Cui, being just a frail scholar, actually had the courage to climb over the iron chain. That’s not something ordinary people can do. The insights gained from crossing the iron chain aren't something just anyone can write about.

“Moreover, if it weren't Master Cui but someone else who encountered an immortal, it would likely be difficult for them to travel together. Even if they did, they might not reach Yunding Mountain.”

“Truly enviable…”

“Exactly…”

Hearing this, the Daoist beside them felt a sense of comfort in his heart.