The immortal is beside me

Chapter 81 That was his era ( more monthly tickets requested)

Jiaozhou is getting closer and closer.

When the river began to freeze, the two crossed the Yangtze River and walked into the place where mountains and rivers gathered.

Qing strode forward. With his cultivation and fire skills, the increasingly cold weather could no longer affect him, and his pace became faster and faster as his cultivation increased.

Despite this, the two of them did not move faster than before, but slower instead.

Qing's cultivation improved day by day. At the same time, Old Zhou became weaker day by day, and it became increasingly difficult for him to use his spiritual power to speed up. Every time Qing walked a distance, he had to stop and wait for him. Naturally, his speed could not be increased.

Old Zhou looked at the young man walking in front of him and pulled his sleeves to cover the wrinkles on his arms.

Time passed and the deadline was getting closer. These days he could clearly feel the energy in his body dissipating, and the spirituality that had been fixed in his body through a lifetime of cultivation was being peeled away like water.

He had not told Qing all this. Now the destination was not far away. After crossing the mountain in front of them, they would walk about another 500 miles to reach Jiaozhou.

Another five hundred miles...

His vision suddenly blurred and his steps began to stumble. He quickly grabbed hold of a tree beside him to keep his balance.

Warm liquid flowed out of his mouth and nose. He reached out and wiped it, and his palm was full of gray-black turbid liquid.

The body becomes dirty and the hair on the head withers; these are the five signs of decline for celestial beings.

"Old man, why don't you leave?" The young man's voice came from afar.

"Go, go."

Old Zhou wiped the dirt off his face with one hand and quickly followed: "Boy, hurry up and don't waste time."

After seven days, he could no longer walk.

The two of them had no choice but to stay at a house on a high ground. This place seemed to have been a resting place for hunters in the past, but there was no edible creature in Jingshan that year, so the hunters had all fled, leaving only a dilapidated thatched hut with leaks on all sides, which was barely habitable after being repaired.

"Cough cough."

A hoarse cough echoed in the room. Old Zhou curled up on the earthen kang in the thatched hut, his whole body shaking like a sieve.

Qing placed his hand on his back and channeled the condensed spiritual power into his body bit by bit, causing his spasms to gradually subside and his rapid breathing to return to normal. At the same time, the boy's breathing became heavy.

After releasing the last bit of spiritual energy, Qing withdrew his hand from his back. When he raised his hand, he saw that his palm was covered with gray-black mucus.

Seven days passed, and the process of the five signs of decay became faster and faster. Decades of aging were completed in just a few days. Now, just by lying on the kang, black water would flow out of Old Zhou's body, as if he was melting from the inside out.

"Boy, don't waste your time."

The coughing subsided slightly, and Old Zhou murmured, "I'm not injured, but my lifespan is drawing to a close. Relying solely on external forces can only help me temporarily, and I will eventually die. Don't waste your spiritual energy in vain."

Qing was silent for a long time, then suddenly asked, "Then how can I make you live?"

"The Five Decays of Heaven and Earth are the destiny of every cultivator, and even the most powerful cannot defy it. I came back to return to my roots, so let me take my own course and enter the grave."

"What if I insist on disobeying?"

Old Zhou was stunned for a moment, his eyes meeting the boy's, his still somewhat immature face full of determination.

"Going against the will of heaven is a taboo in spiritual practice. Going against destiny will lead to bad consequences."

"You said that the strong are respected in the world of cultivation. Now you should listen to me." Qing interrupted him, "I don't want to dig your grave now."

Under the gaze of Old Zhou, Qing turned around and strode out of the room.

In the next few days, apart from transferring spiritual power to Old Zhou, he was always running around outside and no one knew what he was doing.

Until one day when the sun set and the afterglow of the setting sun had dimmed, the young man's figure appeared in front of him again. This time he was holding a black ball in his hand. Under the setting sun, the ball was faintly visible with red fire patterns.

"Guben Pill? Where did you get it?" Old Zhou recognized it immediately. His surprised expression lasted only a moment before turning into shock. "Did you learn to make pills on your own? This thing requires Beast Blood Grass. Where did you find the ingredients?"

"Ten miles from here there's a stone nest with a nest of giant white-browed insects coiled inside. I killed them all and found them inside the stone nest."

Only then did Old Zhou realize that there was blood on his clothes, and he couldn't tell whether it was animal blood or his own blood.

Watering with such blood can indeed grow spiritual herbs that are strong enough to make pills, but even so, it can still be called incredible.

The art of alchemy requires extremely demanding control from the cultivator. Even the specially assigned alchemists in the sect often need the assistance of dedicated personnel and special magical instruments. Even so, there is still a considerable possibility of failure.

And this young man in front of him had no magic weapon, no collaborators, and even the materials he had were just fragments of recipes and scattered ingredients he found in his old package. Yet, he actually managed to refine a pill like this?
This was beyond the realm of genius. It was like a five-year-old casually chopping off a brave general, or a child just learning to read writing a famous poem for the first time!

"Take it." Qing placed the pill in front of him. "I've just tried it myself. It's no longer toxic and does have a strengthening effect."

"."

Old Zhou looked at him steadily, and after a while he lay down dejectedly.

"It's fate, it's fate, why did I have to run into you?"

He seemed to be talking to Qing, or perhaps to himself: "If it weren't for this chaotic world, if you hadn't found me but those great sects, you would have long ago joined a prestigious family and gained attention. But now you can only stay with me in this humble room."

After a moment of silence, he whispered again, "Boy, don't worry about me. Just go on your own. Follow this road south to Yulin, Jiaozhou, and find a green mountain surrounded by nine streams. That's where my sect is located."

"As long as you show your talent, the elders will have no reason not to accept you. Under their guidance, you will surely become the most outstanding genius. Perhaps one day, this chaotic world will end under your leadership."

"Eat it." Qing's voice became heavier. It didn't sound like feeding medicine, but like execution.

Old Zhou looked at the still youthful face, then at the pill in his hand, and suddenly laughed out loud.

"He is still a child after all."

He shook his head helplessly, took the pill and swallowed it.

Perhaps it was the effect of the elixir, or perhaps it was the excitement brought by witnessing the demeanor of a genius, but he seemed to have calmed down a lot over the next two days, and was even able to sit up tremblingly and look at the sun outside the window.

Ke Qing was not at all happy, as he knew this was the last material.

He ran around in the mountains and forests all day and all night, trying to find some alternatives, but the edible things in the mountains had long been eaten by the hungry people, and even the inedible things were left.

Another day has passed, and the sun is setting.

When he pushed open the door, Old Zhou, who was in the inner room, sat up, a rare occurrence, and half-lay in the sunlight streaming in from the window. The light fell on his body, revealing his skin like dry, cracked earth, as if even the filth in his body had been drained away.

But at this moment, his eyes were brighter than ever before. He leaned against the window, staring straight into the distance, his face filled with childlike excitement.

"Boy! I thought I heard the bells from Luoyang just now!" He turned around excitedly and asked, "Did you hear it?"

Qing was stunned for a moment, wanting to say something but stopping himself.

They had already arrived at the edge of Jingzhou, at least thousands of miles away from Luoyang. At this distance, they could not hear the bells in the city.

"Do you want to go back to Luoyang?" he asked after a while.

"Go back? The road is too long. No, no, no." Old Zhou stared blankly out the window. "Some things are better kept in your heart than seen with your own eyes."

"It's just that when I heard the bell, I remembered a lot of things, including the time before I joined the sect..."

He paused. His body remained stiff and frail, but his expression miraculously perked up, as if some long-lost soul had awakened within him. "At that time, Emperor He was on the throne, and the reign was still called Yongyuan. Historical records have always referred to each year as either "rule" or "chaos," but Yongyuan deserves the name "long," the "longness of Yongyuan."

"Those were good times. The Han Dynasty held great prestige and authority, commanding all nations. All who shone upon it were its subjects. Outside Luoyang City, ordinary people pounded grain for rice and gathered sunflowers for soup. They had food to eat every day, clothes to wear every day, and even meat and sugar and oil to eat during festivals."

Qing sat there listening to this passionate speech without saying a word.

This is too exaggerated, he thought to himself.

How could such a good life be possible? He had never even seen sugar and oil in his life, and yet he still wanted everyone to have them? How much land would it take to produce so much food? It was sheer nonsense!

He complained in his heart, but on the surface he didn't say anything. He just sat there and let Old Zhou talk.

"Before Wang Mang usurped the throne, the Han Dynasty was ruled by the rule of law, and the people were prosperous and peaceful. The four seas were all-embracing, and the four barbarians were fearless. Wherever the sun and moon shine, and wherever the rivers flow, all belong to the Han territory."

He suddenly turned around and asked, "Do you know how powerful the Han people were in the past?"

Qinghe looked at him, and he saw excitement in his cloudy pupils. After all these years on the road, this was the first time he had seen this decadent old man show such enthusiasm.

"I've heard that Emperor Wu conquered the northern desert and opened up the Western Regions in less than 80 years."

Qing thought for a moment and said hesitantly, "It is said that when he was in power, he had two great generals under his command, Wei Qing and Huo Qubing. One won seven battles and seven victories, and was known as the best general. The other conquered the Wolf's Lair and drank from the vast sea, achieving unparalleled feats."

"That was when the Han Dynasty was at its strongest, but not its heyday."

Old Zhou shook his head. "It's true that Emperor Wu's achievements will be remembered for generations to come, but they came at the cost of heavy taxes on the people. A prosperous era is one of peace and prosperity, and of people's well-being. Compared to Emperor Wu's conquests, Emperors Wen and Jing abolished corporal punishment and abolished land rents, allowing the people of the Han Dynasty to live and work in peace and contentment, and all industries flourished. This is true prosperity, and the foundation of our Han Dynasty's unification with the people."

"It's a pity, whether it's martial arts or literature, there's no going back."

The voice gradually faded away, and only the dreamy murmur remained in the room.

"That's why we need to cultivate immortality. Cultivating immortality is good! If you cultivate immortality, you will live longer and may see everything. If you can live for hundreds of years, you may be able to see a peaceful and prosperous era."

"What do you think the next prosperous era will be like?"

"You should take a break." Qing said.

"No break, no break." Old Zhou waved his hand slowly. "It's been a while since I've had such a good chat. It's been a long time since I last saw such a cheerful boy. How about chatting with me for a while?"

".What are you talking about?"

"What are you talking about?" Old Zhou leaned against the window, seemingly half asleep. "There's so much I want to say, but I can't finish it all at once. I still have half a pot of rice wine in my spirit bag. How about you warm it up for me and have a couple of drinks with me?"

Qing didn't say much, but just walked outside as he said, and found the somewhat damaged spirit bag on the wooden shelf in front of the door. His spiritual sense probed into it, and he actually found a bulging wine bag inside. He didn't know when or where the old man had found it.

His mind moved slightly, and a light flashed at the mouth of the bag, and the leather wine bag immediately appeared.

He made the wine bag float and rotate on his palm, with fire dancing in the palm of his hand. Soon, a sour and hot steam came out of the bag.

He had never smelled this kind of smell before. At first, he felt it was pungent, but when he sniffed carefully, he seemed to smell the fragrance of grains.

In that so-called "prosperous age", could everyone afford to drink something like this? He suddenly wondered for no reason.

In the time it took to burn an incense stick, the rice wine was ready. Since he didn't have a wine glass, he took an earthen bowl, filled it with wine, and walked into the house holding the bowl.

"Old man, why does this wine taste so pungent? How is this stuff made?"

"Old man?"

There was no response to the call. Old Zhou leaned against the earthen kang, his filthy body already stiff and cold, his wide-open eyes reflecting the last rays of the setting sun.

Under the sunlight, his pupils were so bright, as if he saw again the prosperous Luoyang City a hundred years ago, the Han flags flying on the city walls, and the beautiful and prosperous times.

There was only a dilapidated hut in front of him, and all around him was a wilderness that had been eaten up by starving people.

The hand holding the wine bowl froze. The young man stood there motionless, watching the sunset outside the window slowly sink until the last ray of light disappeared. The overwhelming darkness poured into the house, extinguishing the last glimmer of light in the man's eyes.

He slowly lowered his head, his shoulders shaking violently.

"At least have a drink."

A drop of water fell into the wine bowl, shattering the figure in the bowl.

The sky grew darker, dusk hanging heavy overhead. On the main road, several farmers in turbans panted as they struggled to drag a statue out of the temple.

"Brother, do we really have to burn an image of the gods?"

A thin farmer asked hesitantly: "This statue has been in our village for nearly a hundred years. In the past, the villagers would pray to him for blessings every year. Now it's just used as firewood. Isn't it a bit..."

"People are dying, and you still care about a statue!"

The leading farmer shouted, "What's wrong with the gods? The disaster has lasted so long, and they haven't appeared to show their power. They can't feed people, and they can't suppress the bandits. What's the point of keeping such a useless god around? It's better to burn them. They can still keep people warm and prevent them from freezing to death."

The frail farmer shrank back in response to his whistles, shivering unconsciously. It was already early winter, but none of them could afford new cotton-padded clothes. Without a fire to watch over them, they probably wouldn't survive the winter.

He stopped talking and turned to look for the flint he had put aside. As he was groping for it, a bright light suddenly caught his eye.

"fire?"

He looked up and saw a dazzling fire suddenly lit up halfway up the mountain. The flames leaped under the sky and white smoke billowed straight into the sky.

What a coincidence, maybe it's someone who burns like firewood. The farmer sighed silently in his heart and turned away without paying much attention.

If he approached the fire at this moment, he would have discovered that it was not a statue, but a burning thatched hut.

In front of the blazing fire, a young man in cloth was holding a piece of torn cloth and carefully wrapping the gray ashes in front of him.

Putting the cloth bag in his arms, he turned around, picked up the earthen bowl beside him, and poured all the wine in the bowl onto the burning fire.

wow-

The fire trembled, then soared higher again. The hot wind blew his hair and clothes, and the flying ashes blinded his eyes.

He wiped his face fiercely and grabbed the bag on the side. The sound of metal rubbing against each other came from the cloth bag.

A spirit bag and an old sword, these are all the traces left by that person throughout his life.

He carried the inheritance on his shoulders, walked with his back to the blazing fire, and ran towards the endless road.

That year, the Yellow Turban Army was defeated in northern Hebei. The blue sky was dying, the yellow sky was withering, and the terminally ill Han Dynasty was torn apart.

That year, there was a great epidemic, drought and famine in the Central Plains. Women in Hanoi ate their husbands, and men in Henan ate their wives. Millions of people starved to death.

That year, the extraordinary forces hidden behind the scenes surged, heroes raised the banner of rebellion in various places, and a chaotic era lasting more than four hundred years was about to begin.

That year, a young man named Qing embarked on a long journey to immortality.

P.S. "Book of the Later Han Dynasty, Five Elements Five": "In the spring of the third year of Emperor Ling's Jianning reign, women in Henei ate their husbands, and men in Henan ate their wives."

Ge Jianxiong's academic work "A History of China's Population Development" infers that around the third year of Yongshou (157 AD), the population of the Eastern Han Dynasty exceeded 6000 million. By the end of the Three Kingdoms period a hundred years later, the population was around 3000 million.

(End of this chapter)