The immortal is beside me

Chapter 77: Supporting the Han Dynasty, but Failing to Support It (Long Chapter)
Millet, red beans, taro, yam, together with powder made from dry grass roots and dry tree bark, are mixed together and cooked with water into a semi-thin porridge.

In the drafty thatched hut, Qing sat in front of a broken wooden table, putting the porridge into his mouth one mouthful at a time. As the porridge entered his mouth, the aroma of grains filled the air, mixed with the prickly bark chips and the bitter taste of plants.

He hadn't eaten proper food for a long time since fleeing the famine, and this was the best meal he had had in months.

He tried his best to restrain himself, deliberately slowing down his eating speed and not eating fast.

People who have been hungry for too long should never eat suddenly. He had heard of several hungry people who sold themselves to wealthy families. Their masters gave them a meal of corn and rice as a reward, but they wolfed it down so much that their stomachs burst and they died of starvation.

In a year of great disaster, human life is too precious. It is not reasonable to sacrifice yourself for a chance to survive.

With a creaking sound, the door of the thatched cottage was pushed open, and Old Zhou, dressed in Han Chinese clothing, walked into the house, with a hint of fatigue and sadness between his brows.

Two hours ago, he took Qing along the main road and finally found this village with some people before sunset.

The villagers were clearly not wealthy, so upon seeing the two strangers, they were extremely wary and initially wanted to chase them away. However, after Old Zhou demonstrated a spell in public, everyone was immediately amazed at the existence of an immortal, and they quickly cleared out a room to welcome the two into the village.

Although they had found shelter, the villagers were still hesitant about food. Old Zhou, sensing their concern, immediately offered to treat the sick in the village in exchange for food. He would only give the young man a meal, as he himself did not need to eat.

After that, the villagers chipped in, one family giving half a handful of corn, another a few beans, and after careful calculation, more than a dozen families finally managed to scrape together a bowl of porridge. Old Zhou also fulfilled his promise and went door to door to see his patients.

He wasn't a medical practitioner, and the skills of ordinary cultivators couldn't be applied to mortals. All he could do was take pulses and use his spiritual power to regulate the body's meridians, treating minor ailments like headaches and fevers.

But in the years of great disaster when there were no doctors, such treatment was a godsend for ordinary people.

After Qing finished the last mouthful of porridge in his bowl, he looked up at Old Zhou who had come in. The old man was sitting on the couch in silence, his eyes filled with sorrow.

"What did you see?" Qing asked.

After eating the porridge and regaining his strength, he was in the mood to chat.

In any case, Old Zhou gave him the best meal he had in months, and in this year of disaster, there was no more trustworthy act than this.

"No one in this village has enough to eat. I just saw the family at the village entrance. They have no rice at home and can only dig up wild vegetable roots."

He murmured mournfully, "The parents gave most of the wild vegetable roots they dug to their son, but the child couldn't handle them and suffered from vomiting and diarrhea, nearly killing him. I used my spiritual energy to stimulate his vitality, but if this continues, the child might..."

The voice paused here, and he turned his head and looked at the night sky outside in a daze.

“This world shouldn’t be like this.”

Qing tilted her head and looked at his sad face, feeling quite puzzled.

In his opinion, this kind of thing was perfectly normal, and at least that family could still find vegetable roots, unlike many people he had seen who had to eat Guanyin soil when they were starving. Why was this old man so sad about this?
Seeing Old Zhou sitting there with a gloomy face, he thought for a moment and broke the silence.

"Speaking of which, since you are an immortal, why did you return to the human world alone and go to Luoyang to seek death?"

Old Zhou looked at him deeply and sighed deeply.

"That's a long story."

He stroked the storage bag on his waist, his eyes seemed a little vague.

"I am not a descendant of the Immortal Sect. I was born into a family of Confucian scholars in Luoyang. My parents made me read the scriptures from a young age, hoping that I would become a talent for governing the country and enter the court to support the Han Dynasty."

"When I accepted the recommendation for the position, the young emperor had just ascended the throne, and the Han Dynasty was plagued by internal and external troubles. I had hoped to use my career as an official to save the country and eliminate the Han Dynasty's troubles, but more than a decade later, I still haven't seen any sign of improvement. Instead, the situation has deteriorated."

"Later, because I refused to accept bribes from anti-Party members, I was secretly plotted against by villains, stripped of my official position and sent back home. But I still did not give up. While trying to find a way to return to the court, I also looked for other ways to save the country outside the court."

The hand stroking the storage bag paused for a moment. "Until one day, when I went to a mountain temple to burn incense, I happened to run into a cultivator from the sect coming down the mountain. They're what you call immortals."

"Those cultivators came from a branch of the Cangtian Sect. They said I possessed spiritual roots and could follow them into the sect to cultivate. I thought this was a godsend, that I could use the immortal way to save the Han Dynasty from decline. Who knew?"

He lowered his head and gave a wry self-deprecating laugh when he said this.

"Who knows that on the path of cultivation, not everyone can reach the great way."

"Before, I thought all cultivators had the ability to change the world. But after entering the sect, I realized that mortals are divided into geniuses and mediocre people, and the same is true for cultivators. The vast majority of cultivators cannot break through the foundation-building stage in their entire lives... and I am not an exception."

"Although I have been cultivating day and night, my aptitude is mediocre. After eighty years of cultivation, I am still stuck in the Qi Refining Stage. Let alone joining the Cangtian Sect, even in the branch sects, I am just the most insignificant outer disciple, with no say."

"Now that my lifespan is drawing to a close, it's impossible for me to make another breakthrough," he whispered. "Since death is inevitable, rather than waiting for the five decays in the sect, I should return home and have my ashes buried beneath Luoyang City."

"If the Han Dynasty ever rises again, I will be able to see it from beneath the earth, and I will be at peace."

Qing held up his face and listened to him. He didn't quite understand the words "realm" and "sect" that Old Zhou was saying. The previous paragraph didn't have any awkward words, but the content was completely incomprehensible.

Restoring the Han Dynasty? Ever since he could remember, the Han Dynasty had been plagued by famine and chaos. Why would he still want to restore the Han Dynasty? Even at the cost of his life?

It turns out that the thoughts of immortals are difficult to understand.

"What about you?" Old Zhou asked, "If you're not going to Luoyang, where are you going this time?"

"Go to Jibei," Qing replied. "I heard there's a great and virtuous teacher named Zhang Jue there, who's spreading the Way of Taiping. If you go find him, you'll get food and talismans and water that can heal illnesses."

"."

Old Zhou looked at him for a long time, as if hesitating, before he spoke again: "Then it's better if you don't go there again."

"Why?"

"Because Zhang Jiao is about to die," Old Zhou said. "Right now, the two major forces in the cultivation world, the Cang Tian Sect and the Huang Tian Sect, are fighting each other. Zhang Jiao is the Huang Tian Sect's agent in the mortal world. It seems that the Huang Tian Sect will soon be destroyed by the Cang Tian Sect, and Zhang Jiao will definitely not survive then."

Qing didn't say anything, just looked down at the empty bowl.

He didn't quite understand what the Cangtian Sect and the Huangtian Sect were, but he understood the sentence "Zhang Jiao is about to die."

He had originally intended to use Old Zhou's route to get to Luoyang, and then from there to northern Hebei. But if the reality was as Old Zhou had said, and Zhang Jiao's route was blocked, he would have to think of another way out.

He had witnessed with his own eyes how Old Zhou cast a few spells today, instantly earning him food and the respect of the crowd. If he could also possess similar means, surviving would be much easier.

"You said you also transformed from a mortal into an immortal."

Qing thought for a moment and tentatively said, "I won't eat your food for the next few days. How about you tell me how to become an immortal?"

Old Zhou naturally understood the hidden meaning in his words and shook his head with a sigh.

"One must have spiritual roots before they can embark on cultivation. This is something that is predetermined by nature, and I cannot change it. However, I can give you a magical weapon."

As Old Zhou spoke, he seemed to recall something. He touched his storage bag and, as the young man stared in astonishment, pulled out a longsword. "This is my usual spiritual sword. While it's only low-grade, it's been tempered several times and is far superior to ordinary iron. When we get to Luoyang and I'm buried, you can pawn this sword at a pawnshop. It should be enough to get you some money to live on."

He gently stroked the sword with his fingers and handed it to Qing.

"This sword is embedded with a spiritual stone. If a cultivator with spiritual roots touches it, they will resonate with it. Even ordinary mortals can..."

A light suddenly lit up in the room, and Old Zhou suddenly opened his eyes wide.

In front of him, Qing stretched out a hand and tentatively touched the sword. With just one touch, the spiritual patterns on the sword lit up completely, as if a bright lamp had been lit.

The change came suddenly, and the boy subconsciously pulled his hand back quickly. He wanted to ask Old Zhou about the situation in confusion, but when he looked up, he met Old Zhou's shocked gaze.

"Heavenly Spiritual Roots." He looked at the gradually dimming spiritual patterns on the sword and muttered, "It's actually a Heavenly Spiritual Root."

"Heavenly Spiritual Root?" Qing was confused. "Is this also a spiritual root that can be cultivated?"

Old Zhou didn't answer, but just stared at him, his gaze as if he had suddenly found a piece of jade in the mud.

Without any training at all, relying solely on pure spiritual roots, he was able to evoke such a strong resonance with the spiritual weapon. This level of spiritual root aptitude is beyond the reach of even ordinary sect disciples.

"Boy, close your eyes, calm down, and breathe like me."

As he spoke, he sat cross-legged on the ground, doing the standard breathing posture of a monk.

Qing watched his movements and stood there thinking for a while.

In this chaotic world, closing one's eyes means insecurity. Since fleeing from the famine, he has to keep one eye half open even when sleeping, and hold a knife in his arms to prevent someone from sneaking up on him while he is asleep and killing and eating him.

But at the moment, although Old Zhou is a bit weird, he gives bread to the hungry, treats people, and helps him beg for porridge from others. It is unlikely that he wants to harm him.

After thinking for a moment, he finally sat down cross-legged, closed his eyes, concentrated his mind according to the method that Old Zhou had told him, and exhaled long and rhythmically.

Gradually, the sounds in my ears seemed to become ethereal, and the air around me seemed to turn into flowing water and flow into my body. A feeling of warmth surged from my dantian and spread throughout my body along the meridians.

What he couldn't see was that Old Zhou in front of him was watching this scene, with shock growing in his eyes.

The young man was able to draw the Qi into his body and transform it into strength the first time he breathed. He had been practicing for eighty years and had never seen a cultivator with such extraordinary talent.

Under normal circumstances, a genius like this would have been fiercely sought after by all the major sects. However, with the clash between the two great powers of Cang Tian and Huang Tian, ​​the entire cultivation world was in chaos. The various sects were busy with their own affairs and had no time to spare to search for new disciples among the common people. Therefore, this young man had not been discovered.

This time he returned to the Han Dynasty with the determination to die and be buried. Except for his own spiritual sword, he returned everything belonging to the sect before leaving. He did not even bring the Feixie letter to contact the sect, and was unable to pass on this horrifying news.

In this case, could he only watch a top genius with natural spiritual roots being buried in this chaotic world?
Old Zhou lowered his eyes and looked at the moonlight coming in through the window, speechless for a moment.

But Qing had no idea what he was thinking at the moment. He only felt invisible energy pouring into his body from all directions, and his bones and meridians felt like they were soaking in hot water, bringing him an unprecedented sense of comfort.

Like a waking sleep, he indulged in the comfort and gradually forgot the time.

When he opened his eyes, he was greeted by bright morning light.

Blinking, the scenery around me seemed to become incredibly detailed, even the dust particles in the halo were clearly visible. At the same time, my mind became unusually clear, as if I had woken naturally after a long and satisfying sleep.

He hadn't experienced this in a long time. During these days of fleeing famine, he had been living in the open air almost day and night, and had to be on guard against the starving people. A good night's sleep seemed like a luxury.

Is this what cultivation is?

He was pleasantly surprised. He could survive without starving, and regain his energy without sleeping. Such a wonderful thing existed in the world. No wonder so many people wanted to cultivate immortality!
"Boy."

A slightly dull voice came from the side. Turning around, he saw Old Zhou sitting by the window, still staring at him in the same posture as last night, as if he had been sitting like this all night long.

"Do you want to join a sect and become a cultivator?"

"Zongmen?"

"It's where the monks live together. As long as you serve the sect, the sect will provide you with skills and spiritual tools, and guide you in your cultivation."

With the previous explanation, Qing probably understood it this time.

Just like the Taiping Dao, as long as you serve others, you can earn food. However, this practice gives people the ability to survive without eating, which is better than the Taiping Dao.

"Yes, why not?" He nodded. "Where is the sect?"

These words were met with silence from Old Zhou.

He sat there, looking at the young man in front of him. After a long moment, he suddenly let out a long sigh and slowly stood up, as if he had made a great decision.

"The sect is located within the cave, a place where the real and the fake meet. Without someone to lead the way, it would be difficult for ordinary people to detect it, let alone enter."

He said, "Since you want to embark on the path to immortality, then come with me to Jiaozhou and I will take you into the sect."

"Jiaozhou?" Qing was slightly startled. "Aren't you going to Luoyang?"

Old Zhou fell silent again, his expression changing from bright to dark, as if he was engaged in a fierce struggle.

"In my life, I have never achieved a successful official career, nor have I reached the path of immortality. Now I have to watch the Han Dynasty fall before my own eyes. Looking back over the past century, it has been nothing but failure. I feel ashamed of my sect, my family, and my country."

He looked down at his Han suit, as if he was talking to Qing, or as if he was talking to himself.

"Even if I were buried beneath Luoyang, this useless body would only add a handful of dirt. If I could finally lead a Han Chinese citizen to the Dao, I would have accomplished something in my life."

His voice grew deeper and deeper, and he raised his hand. The back of his hand was already covered with wrinkles, which was the first sign of the five signs of decline of the celestial beings.

In the Qi Refining realm, the appearance of this sign means that the lifespan is less than half a year.

The journey from Guandong to Jiaozhou was over three thousand miles. At the Qi Refining stage, he couldn't fly, so he could only walk like an ordinary person. He wasn't sure if his last moments would be enough for him to return to the sect with the young man.

He only knew one thing: no matter what the final outcome was, as long as he turned back south from here, he would never be able to return to Luoyang in his life.

This is a journey of no return, a play that no one applauds.

Old Zhou slowly opened the door and stepped into the overwhelming sunlight outside.

"Boy, let's go." He said, "Let's go to Jiaozhou and the sect."

(End of this chapter)