Asked About The World Of Mortals

Chapter 2: Seeking Immortality

Two months later, the autumn weather was clear and refreshing.

At dusk.

In a small village at the foot of the mountain, wisps of cooking smoke rose leisurely. A few children were running and playing in the village, while farmers were harvesting rice in the fields by the roadside. A lazy yellow dog lay outside the house, sniffing the aroma of food coming from inside, basking in the evening sun.

The sound of horse hooves approached from afar, shattering the tranquility of the village. Startled, the yellow dog stood up and cautiously looked towards the distant dust.

Two horses, one black and one white, galloped towards the village. When they reached the village entrance, they slowed down and looked towards the mountains not far away.

The evening glow reflected on the mountains, with faint clouds and mist, creating a crimson hue. There were rugged rocks towering at the horizon, as if flying in a fairyland amidst the red glow.

A cowherd on horseback arrived at the foot of the mountain, playing a melodious tune on his flute, adding a peaceful touch to the rural scene.

"It's just as they said, this place really has a hint of immortality." The teenager on the white horse was about fourteen or fifteen years old, with rosy lips and white teeth. His long black hair was neatly tied up with a silver ribbon, and the ends flowed down like black satin, giving him a carefree and elegant look. His bright eyes gazed at the mountains, filled with anticipation.

The young man on the black horse was wearing a brocade robe and appeared to be four or five years older than him. Their faces bore some resemblance, easily making people think they were brothers. The only difference was that the young man had sharper facial features, giving him a more stern and serious look.

Both horses were carrying long oilcloth bags, with the cold gleam of spears faintly visible from the openings.

After hearing the teenager's words, the young man didn't respond, but quietly looked at the cowherd in the distance, remaining silent for a while.

"What's wrong?" the teenager turned his head and asked.

"Nothing," the young man snapped out of his thoughts and smiled, "I just feel that the melody is unheard of, fresh and distant, bringing a sense of tranquility."

The teenager nodded in agreement. If this environment originally had a hint of immortality, with the addition of the melodious flute, it now had even more.

Without thinking too much, he smiled and said, "There are so many beautiful melodies in the world that we cannot fully comprehend. Could it be that my brother has suddenly developed a liking for the sound of silk and bamboo?"

The young man laughed, shook his head, and the two of them slowly rode their horses into the village.

By the roadside were rice fields, where farmers were sweating profusely as they harvested the rice. The young man passed by slowly, his eyes fixed on the rice fields, his expression becoming more and more serious.

The teenager looked around for a while. Some of the rice in the fields had been harvested, while some were still growing, appearing messy and unimpressive at first glance. Seeing his older brother's serious look, he couldn't help but ask, "What are you looking at..."

"Look further and observe carefully," the young man said.

The teenager looked attentively, widening his field of vision and surveying the rice fields. To his surprise, he felt that the parts of the rice fields that had been cut short formed the shape of a Tai Chi yin-yang fish, although it wasn't very standard, it really resembled Tai Chi!

Was it an illusion?

Suppressing his astonishment, the young man pressed his horse forward and courteously said, "Old man..."

The farmer looked up and finally noticed the obvious air of nobility in the two of them. His face blossomed into a smile, resembling a chrysanthemum. "Are you two going into the mountains to seek immortality? It's getting late, why not stay at my place for the night? It's very cheap..."

"...", the image of the esteemed individuals instantly shattered. The young man's eyes flickered, but he still politely introduced himself, "I am Li Qinglin, and this is my younger brother, Qingjun... May I ask, is there any special technique behind the way you cut the rice into this shape?"

"Special technique?" The farmer scratched his head in confusion, with mud sticking to his hair. "This is a simplified form of the number six and nine that Xiao Qin taught me. He said that when they are combined, it's called something... I don't understand, I just memorize the number writing while cutting it like this..."

So that's how it is. The two brothers exchanged a glance and couldn't help but laugh, letting out a sigh of relief. Although they had never heard of this way of writing the numbers six and nine, it was much easier to accept than a rural farmer creating a Tai Chi yin-yang fish in the field.

The farmer continued, "The most comfortable accommodation in my house is a heated kang bed and warm milk, only three coins..."

"No need," the two of them smiled, turned their horses, and left.

"Hey hey hey..." the farmer shouted from behind, "Don't go into the mountains so late. There's poisonous miasma and strange tigers in the mountains recently. It's very dangerous!"

The teenager patted his gun bag, turned his head and smiled, "Only by facing difficulties can sincerity be shown. How about we help you get rid of the fierce tigers?"

The farmer looked at their guns, hesitated for a moment, and simply said, "Be careful."

As they approached the end of the village, at the foot of the mountain, the mist became even denser. The few courtyards at the end of the village were no longer clearly visible. A woodcutter leisurely approached, seemingly weaving through the clouds and mist, casually singing a folk song:

"People all know that immortals are good,

But they can't forget about fame and fortune.

Where are the famous figures of the past and present?

Their graves are overgrown with weeds.

People all know that gold and silver are unforgettable,

But they only regret not having more.

When they have plenty, their eyes close..."

The two brothers stared and listened, their horse's hooves slowing down more and more until they finally came to a complete stop.

Arriving at this place, everything felt different. Even the song sung by the woodcutter was of such high quality. No wonder people said this mountain had immortals; there was indeed some truth to it.

"May I ask, sir..." Li Qingyun stopped the woodcutter, "Who composed this song?"

The woodcutter smiled and said, "It was sung by a young man from the Qin family. Isn't it interesting?"

It was more than just interesting. Where were they? This was Xianji Mountain, where generations of seekers of immortality had come and gone. To hear such a song in a place like this was even more significant.

"May I ask where this Mr. Qin lives?"

The woodcutter casually pointed towards the depths of the clouds and mist, "The last courtyard at the end of the village. You'll recognize it when you see it."

Indeed, the courtyard was easy to recognize. The small courtyard was densely covered with racks, with several layers of winnowing baskets filled with various herbs. The faint scent of herbs lingered in the air, creating a pleasant atmosphere.

A young man sat in the center of the courtyard, pounding herbs in a stone mortar with a wooden pestle. He seemed relaxed and unaware of the approaching guests.

The two brothers watched for a while from their horses. Their initial excitement of meeting a master had dissipated. This young man was too young, probably only sixteen or seventeen, not much older than Li Qingjun himself. It was impossible to connect him with any high-level expert. Moreover, with their martial arts insight, they could tell that this young man was merely a cultivator, and his cultivation level was not even as high as their own.

However, the young man was still interesting. He wore simple clothes and looked somewhat thin and weak. His appearance was refined and gentle, unlike a villager. He seemed more like a scholar. As he pounded the herbs, he hummed an incomprehensible tune, and the rhythmic sound of pounding filled the quiet dusk, creating a relaxed and peaceful atmosphere.

Judging by his appearance, he must have read some miscellaneous books or had some family education. The farmer and the woodcutter only referred to him as "Little Qin" or "Qin's kid," indicating that his elders were probably no longer around.

What was interesting was his "medicine pestle," which was a wolf's tooth club. It looked thicker than his thigh and gleamed under the setting sun, forming a stark contrast with his refined appearance.

Was this his weapon for cultivation?

"Hey!" Li Qingjun watched for a while and couldn't help but laugh, "Can a wolf's tooth club be used for pounding herbs? Isn't the tip sharp?"

The young man stopped and turned to look at them, focusing on their gun bags. He answered without addressing their question directly, "It's inconvenient to enter the mountain at night. Be careful. There's a strange tiger on the mountaintop. Don't get close to it. If you accidentally provoke it, run immediately. It won't chase after you."

Li Qingjun asked, "Is your surname Qin, little brother?"

The young man casually replied, "Qin Yi."

Li Qingjun introduced himself again and continued, "My brother and I came to the mountain to seek immortality. We heard the woodcutter singing a song that was full of meaning. They say it was composed by Mr. Qin?"

"Oh, I heard it from a wandering Taoist priest in my early years. It has nothing to do with me."

"..." Li Qingjun had already realized that this young man, who was about the same age as himself, couldn't possibly be a great master. After saying "sorry for the interruption," he wanted to go up the mountain.

However, Li Qingjun suddenly said, "Could it be that Brother Qin is a pharmacist? Do you have various types of antidotes? We would like to purchase a few."

Li Qingjun looked at his older brother in confusion. They were well-prepared, so why would they suddenly need to buy medicine?

"I don't have various types, just one pill that can cure all." Qin Yi casually threw a cloth bag over, "There are two pills inside, ten taels of silver."

Li Qingjun took the cloth bag and looked at the two red date-like pills inside, sneering, "Where can you find a pill that can cure all poisons? What kind of pill is this?"

His voice was crisp, and with this sneer, his imposing aura as a martial artist diminished, replaced by a somewhat charming and naive feeling.

Qin Yi stared at him for a while and suddenly grinned, "This is called the Jujube Pill."

(End of this chapter)