I am the Immortal for Eternal Life

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Qi Wuhuo only wrote these four lines, then put down his brush.

The old man stroked his beard and softly recited the couplet—or rather, the four lines of poetry. He felt that the words were plain yet carried an air of immortality. Suddenly, he chuckled, a trace of delight showing on his face as he said: “It seems one should never speak too soon.”

“Wuhuo, did you write this?”

Qi Wuhuo shook his head and answered honestly: “I don’t have that kind of talent.”

“This is a poem I saw in a dream, written by someone called the Recluse of Green Lotus. I haven’t heard anyone else recite his poems before, but I think it works well as a couplet.”

The old man stroked his beard and smiled:

“Good.”

Then, with a touch of regret, he added: “It seems I can’t give you this pill after all.”

With a sweep of his sleeve, the old man retrieved the Life-Extending Pill from the table. He then reached into his sleeve and took out an item—it was a scroll, its material ancient and simple. The text on it was identical to the script found on Mountain God talismans, resembling drifting clouds, constantly shifting, as if revealing the profound mysteries of the Dao.

The characters seemed to rise and fall, as if they were ready to leap off the scroll, transforming into birds, clouds, or moonlight.

The old man stroked his beard and smiled: “In that case, I give you this instead.”

“This is the origin of all methods. Through its cultivation, an ordinary person can reach the stage where the Three Flowers gather atop the crown, and the Five Qi return to the source.”

“It reveals the mysteries of heaven, the essence of all things, and the understanding of transformations.”

“Its divine and wondrous techniques are deeply profound, offering boundless freedom.”

“If you cultivate it, within a hundred years, you will surely become a True Person in this world. If you choose to accept the Heavenly Emperor’s decree, you could even become an immortal official—reaching the pinnacle. If your cultivation progresses steadily, and you endure hardship with further fortuitous opportunities, it is not impossible for you to be called a Star Lord or Celestial Monarch in the future. In the mortal realm, there could be temples dedicated to you, offering you worship. By that time, you would indeed be free and unfettered, able to roam from the Northern Sea by morning to Cangwu by night—how about that?”

Directly imparting Daoist scriptures and techniques.

Such a scripture, if placed in one of the major daoist sects of the mortal world, would already be regarded as the pinnacle of their core teachings.

If the earlier pill represented the freedom of a single person, then this scripture could establish a lineage of a thousand years.

And now, it was placed directly before Qi Wuhuo.

Qi Wuhuo naturally desired to obtain this scripture, but he still asked,

“Is the elder satisfied?”

The old man stroked his beard for a long while before answering with a smile: “The immortal aura is abundant—such words cannot be written by ordinary mortals.”

“However, in the end, it was written from the perspective of one person. From my point of view, the immortal aura is sufficient, but it feels as though it was written by some extraordinarily talented disciple. It’s suitable for my collection, yes, but as my Dao couplet, the tone falls a little short.”

The young man was puzzled.

The old man calmly explained with a smile:

“Heaven and Earth are vast, and throughout time, no one has ever dared to say,”

“Grant me immortality.”

Qi Wuhuo opened his mouth, suddenly feeling that this poem too was somewhat inappropriate.

“And mere grandeur is not enough. In the mortal world, some Daoist sects have written many couplets upon their mountain gates. For example, this one…”

The old man casually tapped his finger.

A drop of water flew out from the teacup and transformed into an image. In an instant, the scene shifted—the wind and waves swirled, and it was as if they had arrived at the peak of a mountain. Qi Wuhuo stood frozen, looking around. He saw towering mountains, and in the sky, the radiance of a thousand rays of light, as though in the realm of immortals. People turned into streams of light, coming and going like lightning. At the highest point of the clouds stood a simple and ordinary Daoist temple, with a couplet before it.

Qi Wuhuo’s eyes widened as he looked around.

On his usually composed face, there was now a hint of youthful eagerness and excitement.

The old man smiled and said: “Come and give it a try.”

Qi Wuhuo still didn’t fully understand the meaning behind these words, but he sensed a mysterious feeling, as though he could control the scene that had emerged from the drop of water. His Primordial Spirit moved instinctively, and in an instant, the scene zoomed in, passing over the layers of mystical mountain peaks and the Daoist temples, arriving in front of the simple temple.

Inside, someone was meditating.

Before them was a couplet:

The Dao encompasses Yin and Yang, and through the Three Realms, Ksitigarbha governs the souls.

Clouds spread across Mount Tai, the myriad mountains bow in reverence to the Heavenly Lord!

The atmosphere was grand and imposing.

Qi Wuhuo, using his Primordial Spirit to control the scene, had it hover above the temple. He saw flowers bloom and wither, and the green waves of clouds ebb and flow. Feeling a surge of joy, he tried to get closer to examine the couplet. However, his cultivation was insufficient, and when he moved in for a closer look, he lost control.

A wisp of his aura leaked out.

In that instant, the drop of water could no longer maintain its harmonious form and shattered.

As it broke apart, Qi Wuhuo seemed to glimpse the meditating Daoist within the temple stir, as if awakening, ready to open his eyes.

But before Qi Wuhuo could see the Daoist open his eyes, the scene around him began to collapse. He felt as if he were falling from the heavens, seeing all things recede from him. The clouds and radiant lights crumbled, and his face turned slightly pale. The sleeves of his robe were swept away and even the paper on the table, where he had written the poem, fluttered and fell, seemingly dropping into the sea of clouds, and into the Daoist temple itself.

For a moment, Qi Wuhuo thought he might fall as well. Instinctively, he reached out and grabbed the sleeve of the old man next to him. Suddenly, he felt a cool sensation at the center of his brow, and at that moment, he awoke. It was just a drop of tea water falling, and nothing more.

The old man burst into laughter.

The young man’s face turned slightly red. He let go of the old man’s sleeve and said: “It’s just that… I’m a bit afraid of heights.”

In front of the old man, he still revealed some of his youthful spirit. He hurriedly raised both hands to wipe his forehead, then sat upright, forcing himself to appear calm and composed. He kept his gaze straight ahead, though the tips of his ears were bright red.

“A little, a little.”

The old man laughed heartily, pointing a finger at him:

“Impressive, impressive!”

“I’ve never heard of a Mountain God being afraid of heights.”

Qi Wuhuo’s lips moved slightly, unsure of how to respond.

The old man let the matter drop, choosing not to continue teasing the young and mature child. Stroking his beard, he smiled and said:

“You saw that couplet just now. The Daoist lineages in the mortal world often have such a style.”

“Either they praise the Heavenly Lord or ascend to the Nine Heavens. It’s not that it’s bad—it’s just not to my taste.”

“It’s like having a mountain of gold and silver at home and wanting to announce it to the world.”

“And if it’s not that kind of style, then it’s something like [The Mount Tai parts the primordial chaos, gazing upon the rising of the purple dawn, golden palaces bathed in rosy clouds, the chime of pure bells often ringing in the ears] or [With gentle breezes harmonizing with righteousness, realizing that all ambitions fade like smoke, immortal traces vanish like distant waters, yet the righteous Dao of a thousand autumns lingers in the heart], not quite free-spirited enough.”

“One must seek tranquility and serenity, with an unhurried immortal grace, yet avoid being overly cumbersome or dull.”

“Can you do that, Wuhuo?”

“And especially, it must be written from my perspective.”

The old man looked at him playfully, adding a fair amount of difficulty to the challenge.

However, the scroll of scripture was indeed intended for him, something that would serve as a foundational protection.

The young man thought for a moment, then suddenly said: “I can.”

The old man was surprised.

Qi Wuhuo recalled once again the words he had seen in his dream.

In a tale, there had been a Daoist, known as Zhenyuanzi, who had written a couplet.

Since it was merely something seen in a dream, words from a story that was illusory and not real, it should be fine.

His magical abilities are vast, but the elderly man before him is not the least bit inferior.

Qi Wuhuo picked up his brush, dipped it in ink, and began writing.

The old man, still surprised, stroked his beard and looked down, watching the young man write. As the brush flowed across the paper, the old man read aloud:

“The Immortal Abode of Eternal Life.”

“The Daoist Dwelling That Shares Longevity With The Heavens.”

Was it domineering? Not at all. It simply spoke of an ordinary Daoist home.

Yet the sense of calmness, the gradual unfolding, the grand and majestic aura, and the boundless immortal presence seemed to fill the page.

Eternal life, living as long as Heaven.

It was nothing more than an ordinary Daoist dwelling of mine.

While the words themselves were not as intricate as the previous couplet, the atmosphere exuded the bearing of a true master of the Dao.

Calm and unhurried.

Imposing and vast.

The old man stroked his beard, reciting the lines several times before suddenly bursting into laughter and exclaiming: “Good, excellent!”

“I am most pleased!”

“It seems that I may not need to give you this scripture after all, hahaha.”