Chapter 2

During the reign of the late emperor, the large-scale "Qingdao" campaign eliminated many fringe sects, leaving behind numerous temples of these sects, which later became places for homeless beggars and travelers who missed their lodgings to rest.

The master wrapped one arm around him, pulling him close to his chest, while using one hand to continuously shield Cheng Qian's head. The distinct bones of this old man pressed against him painfully, yet the embrace and protection were undeniably genuine

Cheng Qian still has the appearance of a child, yet within him already resides the heart of a youth

The little beggar, using some kind of tool, dug a hole in the ground of the back hall of the Taoist temple, where he was roasting a plump beggar's chicken. As he cracked open the clay shell, a wave of fragrance wafted everywhere.

Cheng Qian : `` ... ... ''

Cheng Qian, draped in a wooden camellia coat, quietly peered through the seams of his clothing at his drenched master in the rain. For the first time in his life, he enjoyed the treatment that a child ought to receive. After savoring the moment for a while, he willingly acknowledged his master and resolved—regardless of how much nonsense this master spoke or the myriad of unorthodox teachings he possessed, he would forgive him.

Cheng Qian felt that this sentence sounded somewhat familiar

Master Mu Chun placed Cheng Qian on the ground and then demonstrated to his young disciple what it means for a practitioner of the Dao to always be mindful of their words and actions

It is said that during the peak of the pursuit of immortality and the quest for the Dao, a county would encompass merely ten to eight villages, stretching from the eastern end to the western end. Numerous sects dedicated to cultivation could number as many as twenty. One could purchase a somewhat used and outdated manual from small merchants and vendors, and boldly claim to be engaged in the practice of cultivation to amass wealth and attract followers

Mu Chun spoke with righteous indignation: "Those who cultivate the Dao should maintain a clear mind and few desires, always being mindful of their words and actions. How can one present themselves in such a theatrical manner!"

The sequence of events, Cheng Qian had heard from the old scholar once, thus in his eyes, the stick he was holding was merely a pure stick... At most, it was a stick used for serving meals, truly not worthy of any particular respect

The True Immortal Sect does not regard the Emperor at all, doing whatever they please. The deceitful wanderers of the martial world have somewhat restrained themselves, but their restraint is limited—what with the iron and copper tokens, they can still forge fakes.

The wooden club-like figure touched his two trembling little mustaches and continued to ramble: "My name is 'Fuyiao', little one, do you know what Fuyiao means?"

The old scholar harbored a deep-seated aversion to these matters and was naturally unwilling to speak of them. Cheng Qian, having been influenced by his enlightenment, felt a sense of disdain in his heart, yet still forced himself to adopt an appearance of attentive listening.

Although the young beggar displayed a certain cunning associated with a roving lifestyle, he was still quite young and was genuinely coaxed by his master into shedding two lines of clear nasal mucus, responding in a dazed manner: "Little Tiger, I don't know my surname"

Then let me be your master, with the surname Han," Mu Chuan said, stroking his goatee, quietly establishing the master-disciple relationship. "As your master, I shall bestow upon you a grand name—just a single character, Yuan. How does that sound?

Mu Chun raised his hand and pointed at Cheng Qian in front of him. This gesture seemed to carry some kind of spiritual communication, as a sudden gust of wind arose out of nowhere, swirling around and lifting the withered grass from the ground into the air. The concave leaves of the withered grass displayed a sharp, desolate yellow, illuminated by a bolt of lightning that descended from the sky, nearly dazzling Cheng Qian's eyes.

Certainly, in a vast nation spanning the nine provinces, with a distance of thousands of miles from east to west and a lack of communication from north to south, it is fundamentally impossible to enforce uniformity. Even blanket regulations have loopholes to exploit, let alone such trivial and nonsensical decrees.

This decree, which should have caused a tremendous uproar, had not yet left the palace gates when the news reached all the high-ranking officials. The group was so frightened that they lost their composure, rolling out of their beds overnight and rushing to the main hall to line up—those with lower ranks in the front and the higher-ranking officials at the end—preparing to crash one by one against the pillars in front of the hall, hoping to die in protest, fearing that the Emperor might offend the immortal and jeopardize the fate of the nation

The wooden camellia master appeared emaciated, with three sinews supporting a head, upon which sat a precariously balanced hat. One hand led Cheng Qian, resembling a traveling performer guiding his newly recruited apprentice.

The master naturally saw this and hurriedly raised his paw to cover Cheng Qian's eyes, indignantly pointing out: "Peach-red jacket and emerald-green robe, alas, such lewd attire still dares to be here receiving offerings, truly outrageous!"

At that time, there were more alchemists than cooks, more reciters of scriptures than farmers, and for several years, there was hardly anyone who seriously studied or practiced martial arts, allowing the idle charlatans to roam freely.

This supernatural ability left the young boy dumbfounded.

The court is unable to eradicate the rampant banditry and human trafficking, so how can it concern itself with whether the immortal sect recruits disciples or not

In the world, those who harbor whimsical thoughts and wish to knock on the gates of immortality were once as numerous as the fish crossing the river

He first wiped the water marks off his face, put on a smile reminiscent of a transcendent being, and then took a leisurely, swaying lotus step, floating over to the little beggar's side. In front of Cheng Qian, he spoke at length with flowery words, painting a picture of an overseas immortal sect adorned with gold and silver, where one could eat to their heart's content and dress warmly, leaving the little beggar wide-eyed in amazement

Cheng Qian had dispatched countless beasts and birds for transportation throughout his life—yet this was perhaps the most bumpy and verbose one he had ever ridden.

Even the bandits engaged in robbery and theft have begun to join in the ruckus, renaming the originally notorious groups such as "Black Tiger Stronghold" and "Starving Wolf Gang" to more benign titles like "Qingfeng Temple" and "Xuanxin Pavilion". They then introduce tricks such as "Oil Pot Theft" and "Fire Breathing" to perform a noisy spectacle before robbing the travelers, scaring them into generously offering their valuables.

During the reign of the late emperor, various sects in the marketplace proliferated like toads in a riverbed after rain. Names like Zhang San, Li Si, and Wang Ermazi were everywhere; as long as their families had thriving descendants and were not lacking in offspring, they all scrambled to establish connections, sending their children to different sects to seek immortality and enlightenment, learning skills such as "breaking stones with their chests." Beyond that, no one truly achieved anything noteworthy.

For some unknown reason, despite the fact that this long-necked chicken had just brazenly deceived him, Cheng Qian felt an innate sense of closeness to him

Mu Chun did not actually anticipate this turn of events, and was momentarily taken aback. However, seeing that he had intimidated this cold-hearted little brat, he then retreated his hand, taking advantage of the situation.

Mu Chun, no longer able to play tricks, shouted loudly: "Oh no, there is a heavy rain"

If these people could really ascend to the heavens, I wonder if the Southern Heavenly Gate could accommodate so many insignificant beings.

He walked in silence, yet he could not help but glance back.

Muzhuan coaxed the small beggar with a large head and a small body enthusiastically, saying: "I see that you have excellent potential; in the future, you may soar to the heavens or dive into the abyss, perhaps you will have great fortune—child, what is your surname and given name?"

The sounds of wind, rain, thunder, and lightning mingled with the incessant chatter of the master, as he was enveloped in the master's robe, his vision obscured in darkness, yet he caught a faint, indescribable scent of wood emanating from the robe's sleeve

Upon the ascension of the current sovereign, the popular trend of cultivating immortality still lingers on in a feeble state, while the fervor of madness has already passed. The current sovereign is well aware that a perfectly clear water body harbors no fish; thus, for those fraudsters who exploit the guise of immortality cultivation, he mostly turns a blind eye, adhering to the principle that if the people do not raise issues, the officials will not investigate.

However, the late emperor's efforts were not entirely in vain. After several rounds of turmoil, investigations, and rectifications, although the results were minimal, the enthusiasm for cultivation among the populace was significantly diminished. Moreover, with no reports of anyone truly achieving remarkable feats in cultivation from near or far, over time, people returned to their farming and herding, and daydreaming became less common.

Speaking of cultivating immortality and seeking the Dao, Cheng Qian has also heard of it

Cheng Qian wriggled his way out from the outer garment of Mu Chuan, and as he raised his head, he found himself face to face with the large deity enshrined in the Daoist temple. The clay deity was startled on the spot—its head adorned with two buns, a round face without a neck, a visage full of flesh, and each cheek sporting a circle of bright red. Below, it had a wide, gaping mouth that revealed a set of uneven teeth as it smiled.

He tucked his emaciated hands into his sleeves and leisurely boasted: "The Peng bird migrates to the Southern Abyss, striking the water for three thousand miles, soaring up to ninety thousand miles on the swirling winds, departing with the breath of June—formless and unbound, able to maneuver with the wind, coming from its deep abyss, going to its boundless expanse, this is 'Fuyou', do you understand?"

He actually knows what decorum is... Cheng Qian looked at him with a newfound respect

The young Cheng Qian, due to his limited experience, was both puzzled and somewhat shocked.

Han Yuan, bearing grievances... truly auspicious and festive

When a person becomes excessively thin, certain matters become quite inconvenient. For instance, when one feels a craving, it is not easy to conceal the instinctive reaction of being able to grasp that slender little neck.

The master must have been so hungry that he became muddled; faced with the burnt and thick-skinned beggar's chicken, he was somewhat indiscriminate in his words.

Cheng Qian reluctantly withdrew his gaze, the uncertain road ahead resembling an endless night. Holding his master's frail hand felt as if he were grasping a treasured heirloom of the Cheng family—a lamp that, despite its boastful prefix of "immortal," could only illuminate a few inches beneath his feet, beautiful yet impractical

Unfortunately, the rain came too quickly; even a long-necked pheasant could not escape the fate of becoming a drenched chicken

He saw his mother carrying a tattered backpack, inside which was his younger brother soundly asleep. Outside the backpack, his mother's face was blurred and tear-streaked, while his father stood silently beside her, his head bowed, unsure whether he was sighing or feeling guilty, unwilling to lift his gaze to look at him even once, standing there like a shadow of dull gray.

The Emperor cannot allow the entire court of civil and military officials to truly suffer such a fate, and furthermore, that dragon column cannot withstand it either

Cheng Qian certainly did not understand. Within his small chest, the awe of the unknown forces and the disdain for these unorthodox methods intertwined, making it difficult for him to part with either. In the end, he placed the wooden cypress and the broken lantern on his family's wall in the same position, nodding in a dazed manner with a sense of reverence for his master, who remained indifferent.

Cheng Qian followed his master, enduring not only the hardships of traveling in the wind and rain but also having to listen to that old fellow's nonsensical and fallacious arguments, which truly cannot even be described as mere "fugitive".

There are generally two modes of travel: one is called "touring," and the other is referred to as "wandering."

Cheng Qian rode a bony horse and eventually arrived, drenched, at a dilapidated Taoist temple

Cheng Qian followed Master Mu Chuan and left

At this moment, a waft of tantalizing meat aroma drifted from behind the dilapidated temple, interrupting the cynical disposition of the master, who espoused a philosophy of "clearing the heart and desiring little".

The late emperor, compelled by circumstances, had no choice but to retract his previous decree. The following day, he ordered the establishment of a "Tianyan Office" within the Bureau of Astronomy, directly overseen by the Grand Historian. He subtly invited several genuine immortals to take their posts there and stipulated that henceforth, all major and minor sects must report to the Tianyan Office for verification. Only after the authenticity was confirmed would they be issued an iron decree, allowing them to recruit disciples, while private sects among the populace were strictly prohibited.

The throat of Mu Chuan involuntarily rolled for a moment, and he was immediately at a loss for words. With a strange expression, he led Cheng Qian around to the back of that lascivious statue, where he saw a little beggar who was only a year or two older than Cheng Qian.

Mu Chunzhi, feeling quite pleased with himself, twirled his mustache, ready to showcase his talents once more. However, little did he know that the heavens were not inclined to grant him any further favor. Before he could open his mouth again, the boast he had just made had already backfired—suddenly, a fierce wind swept in, striking him in the face with great force, extinguishing the campfire before him and reducing it to a pile of cold ashes. Following this, a tempest arose, accompanied by thunder and lightning, which together raised their voices, heralding an ominous sky approaching from the west. A fierce wind swept in, striking him in the face with great force, extinguishing the campfire before him and reducing it to a pile of cold ashes. Following this, a tempest arose, accompanied by thunder and lightning, which together raised their voices, heralding an ominous sky approaching from the west.

The late emperor, having come from a military background, was a hot-tempered and rough individual. He felt that if the common people continued to live in such a chaotic and polluted environment, the nation would surely be doomed. Thus, an imperial edict was issued, ordering the arrest of all the so-called "immortals" who were causing trouble in the countryside, regardless of whether they were genuine deities or mere charlatans, all were to be conscripted into military service.

Having finished speaking, he sprang to his feet, hoisting his luggage with one hand and grabbing Cheng Qian with the other. He took off with his long, bamboo-like legs, scurrying away in small, frantic steps like a wild chicken.

Mu Chun swallowed again.

Mu Chun held Cheng Qian in her arms, quickly shedding her own outer garment that was already soaked through, and draped it over the little boy she was holding, as she ran wildly with her legs spread apart, shouting in a mix of panic and urgency: "Oh no, this is bad, the rain is so heavy, oh no, where should we hide?"