Longevity: Comprehending the Heart Method

"I was being too cautious. In that case, I’ll trouble you to lead the way, Fellow Daoist Zhuang," Song Changsheng said with a bow.

"We’ve known each other for almost ten years. There’s no need for such formalities between us; it just makes us seem distant. From now on, why don’t we call each other by name?"

Song Changsheng heard her and realized she had a point. They had been through life and death together on several occasions; constantly calling each other "Fellow Daoist" did seem to create a distance.

"Alright then, Yuechan. Let’s go make our own preparations. We’ll meet tomorrow at 7:00 AM."

"Alright."

...

In truth, there wasn’t much to prepare. Song Changsheng just went to find Yinn Shang and asked him to look after the turtle egg.

Normally, it would need to be fed Essence Blood daily, but a Cultivator’s Essence Blood, hair, and other such things could not be casually given to others. Even blood shed in battle had to be destroyed if the opportunity arose.

This was no overreaction. Among the Hundred Skills of Cultivation, there were countless strange and treacherous methods. If one’s blood fell into the hands of someone with ill intentions, it could lead to immense trouble.

Although he considered Yinn Shang to be an upstanding man, Essence Blood was too important to be entrusted to others. In any case, he would only be gone for a few days, so not feeding it wouldn’t have a major impact.

When Yinn Shang and Niu Dazhuang learned he was going to the Celestial Sinking Valley, they had wanted to go with him, but Song Changsheng tactfully declined their kind offer, considering their injuries had not yet healed.

The next day at 7:00 AM, Song Changsheng, Xu Yunhe, and Zhuang Yuechan met at the designated spot.

Xu Yunhe said with a sigh, "I wonder where Fellow Daoist Zhu ended up. It’s been a long time since the four of us were all together."

"I’ve been trying to find news about Fellow Daoist Zhu all these years, but the feedback has never been good. I suspect he may have already left the Southwest, or even Daqi entirely," Zhuang Yuechan said, shaking her head.

For Luoxia City’s network to find not a single clue after so many years, it meant he was either dead or had left. There were no other possibilities.

"Fate brings people together across a thousand miles. Fatty isn’t the type to die young. With his skills, he won’t be doing too poorly no matter where he is. As long as he’s alive, we’ll see him again sooner or later. Brother Xu, Yuechan, let’s go!"

With that, the group boarded the Flying Ship and headed toward the Hundred Thousand Mountains...

To the east of the Daqi Cultivation World lay the Yua Kingdom’s Cultivation Realm. Its area was only two-thirds that of Daqi, but its number of powerful experts was not the least bit inferior.

Somewhere in the Yua Kingdom, there was a short Spirit Mountain, no more than a thousand zhang high. It was even shorter than some of the barren mountains around it. If not for the Spiritual Qi rising from it, no one would have believed it was actually a Sect’s headquarters.

The mountain appeared desolate and barren. At its base stood a simple mountain gate, with a plaque bearing the three words "Ancient Sword Sect," written with powerful, elegant strokes.

The plaque looked unremarkable, even a bit dilapidated. You could vaguely see cobwebs clinging to its corners. No matter how you looked at it, the place seemed shabby.

Forget comparing it to other cultivation sects; it was worse off than even some places in the Mortal World.

A streak of light shot across the distant sky, finally landing before the mountain gate. It revealed a scruffy old man with a fair-skinned Little Fatty tucked under his arm.

The old man unceremoniously tossed the Little Fatty onto the ground, then looked up at the plaque, lost in thought. ’Almost thirty years... This place is still the same. It hasn’t changed one bit.’

The Little Fatty scrambled up from the ground with a look of disgust, brushing the dirt from his fine clothes. "Old man," he complained, "can’t you find a more civilized way to fly me around?"

He then looked around, taking in the shabby sight, and frowned. "What kind of dump have you brought me to this time? I’m telling you, how much longer until we get there? We’ve been dawdling on the road for over a year."

"We’re here."

"We are? Where?" The Little Fatty immediately perked up.

The old man smacked him on the back of the head and said irritably, "Where are you looking? Look up."

Rubbing his head, the Little Fatty shot the old man a resentful glare before looking in the direction he was pointing. Upon seeing the three words "Ancient Sword Sect," the Little Fatty was completely stunned.

After a long moment, he stiffly turned his head back. He extended a chubby hand, trembling as he pointed first at the old man, then at the plaque. His lips quivered as he spoke, "This... this is what you called the Immortal Mountains, the Hidden Major Sect, the Sword Dao Holy Land?"

Hearing this, the old man puffed out his chest and declared decisively, "Of course!"

Upon hearing this, the Little Fatty felt a CRACK, as if something inside him had shattered.

Recalling all the empty promises and outrageous boasts the old man had fed him along the way, the Little Fatty couldn’t take it anymore. He roared, "You, surnamed Mo! I can’t believe I fell for your crap! This mountain? I can piss higher than this mountain! What kind of Immortal Mountain do you call this?

"Just look at this godforsaken dump! Look at this plaque! And look at this ’Spirit Mountain’ with its ’primitive atmosphere’! I’d believe you if you told me this place was haunted!

"This entire journey, you spouted all sorts of nonsense, telling me how glorious and powerful the Ancient Sword Sect is! You said it was a lineage passed down from a Sword Immortal! You even said you’d pass it all to me one day!

"And what’s the result?!

"This hellhole? I wouldn’t take it if you gave it to me for free! I’m done playing along!"

With that, the Little Fatty furiously turned his back on the old man, preparing to leave via Sword Control.

But the old man merely glanced at him before smacking him down to the ground with a single slap.

Looking at the Little Fatty lying in a human-shaped crater, the old man shook his head and sighed. "Look at you, always so impatient.

"Don’t you understand what a Hidden Sect is? This is called being low-key. If we made it all grand and flashy, wouldn’t we have been discovered ages ago?

"It’s all a facade for outsiders. A disguise, you get it?"

"Bullshit! From now on, I’m not believing a single word you say," the Little Fatty snarled as he crawled out of the crater, covered in dust.

"How could your master lie to you? Think about it, when have I ever lied to you?"

The Little Fatty sneered and began counting on his fingers. "You said you were being hunted and that you were leading the pursuers away so you wouldn’t drag me into it.

"And the result? After I went through hell and back to find you in Bian Province, I discover you, you dirty old man, in a brothel with a woman on each arm, living it up!

"Also, you told me you only had Foundation Establishment Cultivation. Well? Does a mere Foundation Establishment Cultivator have the ability to steal the Celestial Sword Sect’s most precious treasure and get away unscathed?

"I’ve finally figured it out. Not a single word that comes out of your rotten old mouth is true!"

As the Little Fatty listed his grievances one by one, an embarrassed look appeared on the old man’s face, but he remained stubborn. "Those were all... unexpected situations. This time, it’s definitely for real! Just wait, I’ll call your Senior Sister down to greet us."

With his arms crossed and a look of utter disbelief, the Little Fatty retorted, "Senior Sister? In this dump, you’d have a better chance of summoning a female ghost."

"Was this little brother talking about me?"

A sweet, sultry voice drifted over. The Little Fatty instantly felt weak in the knees. He turned to look and saw a charming woman approaching gracefully down a winding mountain path. She wore a fiery red dress, a flower hairpin in her hair, and a white fox-fur shawl.

She appeared to be around thirty years old, with a captivating smile that revealed two small dimples.

Her alluring red lips, the generous curves that swayed with her steps, her practically perfect figure, and the glimpse of snowy-white skin beneath the hem of her skirt—every part of her exuded a mature charm.

The Little Fatty’s pupils dilated, and a lecherous grin spread across his face.

The woman, wrapped in a fragrant breeze, came to stand before the Little Fatty. She extended a long, slender finger and gently lifted his chin. Her breath was like perfume as she said, "Little brother, what do you think? Am I a person or a ghost?"

The Little Fatty stared at the towering peaks so close at hand and swallowed dryly. His eyes glazed over as he stammered, "You... you must be a goddess..."

"Giggle... Little brother, you’re so amusing. If you really want to know, then come up the mountain with me. I’ll tell my secret only to you."

The woman left behind a peal of laughter like silver bells and turned to walk up the mountain, leaving behind a view of her back that set the imagination racing.

As if his soul had been bewitched, the Little Fatty involuntarily followed after her.

...