I became an immortal in the Tang Dynasty

Chapter 208 Tieguai Li, the Immortal Path North and South
This beggar was filthy, dripping wet. If he went into the shop, he would surely get all the fabric and floor tiles dirty, and the owner would scold him.

The waiter looked displeased.

The beggar stopped, and only then did the waiter notice the disheveled face, gaunt and thin, with sunken cheeks, as if he were about to starve to death.

"Are you here to beg for food?"

He held a handful of roasted soybeans in his hand, hesitated for a moment, and then shared some with the beggar.

"Don't come in. If you want to beg for food, stay away from the door. There are people coming and going, and the clothes of the young men and women are very expensive. You can't afford to pay for them if they get dirty."

Li Xuan did not accept the fried soybeans.

He took out the gold nugget, pinched it in two with a slight squeeze of his fingers, and handed one to the waiter.

Her voice was hoarse: "I've come to buy clothes."

The shopkeeper was startled and looked at the beggar suspiciously. Could the gold have been stolen? He didn't want to get involved in any trouble.

Li Xuan remained silent, staring at him without moving.

Although the man was dressed in a disheveled state and soaked to the bone, the waiter felt that his eyes were calm and did not look like those of a beggar.

The man hesitated for a moment.

"I'll go talk to the boss. You stay here and don't move. If you're hungry, I'll give you some beans. They're freshly roasted and smell delicious."

The store became lively again.

Not a moment.

The owner and his assistant apologized and politely asked him if he could change his clothes at the back door, promising to give him a free wooden hairpin.

Li Xuan understood what the other party was thinking and agreed.

After finally changing his clothes, Li Xuan casually pinched a flea to death and roughly combed his messy hair, making his overall appearance somewhat tidy.

There was also a faint stench emanating from him.

He stood there, and many people frequently turned around, frowning as they looked at the dirty beggar.

Inside the cloth shop, the shop assistant was still telling the owner the news he had heard from a customer: "I heard that even the county magistrate sent people to search the mountain, but they couldn't find the immortal."

The landlord shook his head.

"That's not what I heard!"

"Huh?" the waiter asked curiously.

The landlord lowered his voice considerably, but Li Xuan, standing outside, could still hear it clearly.

“That immortal had a disciple from a nearby village. I just heard that his master has already ascended to immortality and his remains were cremated by him.”

His apprentice?
Li Xuan also wanted to know why his disciple had gone down the mountain ahead of schedule.

With a sudden thought, he stopped listening to what the owner and the shop assistants were saying.

Turn around and leave.

He smelled bad, looked dirty, and was a cripple. His clothes looked stolen, and people avoided him and spat at him, but Li Xuan was not angry.

He walked with a limp, which was always inconvenient.

The beggar's lameness was a natural disability. Even if an immortal bestowed upon him a elixir, his body would still be incomplete, and he would walk with a stumbling gait.

Why not buy a walking stick?

With that in mind, he walked all the way to Nanshi.

After squeezing through the crowd for a while, I finally found a few blacksmith shops in a corner.

This area is full of blacksmith workshops, with clanging and banging sounds and rising heat.

The side facing the street was completely open, without doors or windows. A huge stove was burning in the middle, and the walls were blackened by the fire. Shelves on the walls were filled with pliers, hammers, chisels, and files of various sizes.

The blacksmith inside was shirtless, repairing a hoe for someone, sweating profusely.

The blacksmith hammered a few times, then used an iron hook to move the iron block aside. He straightened up, picked up the towel draped over his shoulder, and wiped the sweat from his face.

Suddenly, a disheveled beggar stood at the door.

"What are you doing?"

Li Xuan found the remaining half of the gold nugget.

"I want to make a walking stick. Is this enough money?"

Only then did the blacksmith notice.

The gold coin was only about a coin's worth; it would have to be weighed to be accurate. The beggar's clothes were makeshift, and he was filthy and disheveled; who knew where the money came from... The thought raced through the blacksmith's mind.

"It's enough, but what kind of guests would like to eat?"

"Is there one readily available?"

"Oh...yes, I'll bring it to the guest and see if there's anything that needs to be changed."

The blacksmith weighed the gold nugget; it was about a qian (a unit of weight), worth 350 wen. He took out several dozen wen from his cloth bag and brought out the iron crutch that someone had previously ordered but rejected, asking the beggar to compare it. Although the beggar was dirty, he was very straightforward.

He took the money, leaned on his hand, and without asking him to make any further changes, he limped away.

……

……

Li Xuan slowly walked to the edge of his disciple's village, trying to remember where his disciple's home was. Three years had passed, and he couldn't quite remember.

He stood in the crowd, a yellow dog sniffing at his feet, and children looking over curiously.

When the villagers saw that his hair was disheveled and smelly, they all pulled their children aside and loudly chased him away.

"Where did this cripple come from? He's not even clean! Get out of here!"

Li Xuan stepped aside; his body was covered in filth, barely clean even after a hasty wash, and he smelled terrible.

Just as the villagers were about to raise their hands to push, the sound of funeral music came from afar.

Several people, dressed in coarse hemp, came over and carried the coffin on wooden poles. A tall, refined-looking young man, also dressed in hemp, walked at the front, holding a mourning stick in his hand, wailing all the way, looking haggard.

Nearby, people were continuously scattering paper money.

The villagers' chatter immediately subsided, and they stopped paying attention to the beggar.

They gathered together and remarked:

"Bu Da's father died many years ago, leaving his mother and son to look after the house. Who would have thought that this kid would have such a special connection with the immortals..."

"Forget about any divine destiny; I don't think it's a good thing."

The old woman frowned and looked at Bu Yang from afar. Out of respect for the dead, their voices were much quieter.

“After Bu Yang left with the immortal, he didn’t come back even once in three years, and he didn’t even get to see his mother one last time. It was my husband who went to the city and up the mountain and searched for several days before finally finding him.”

Those around him disagreed.

"It's hard to say."

“We watched Bu Yang grow up. Apart from being able to write his own name, he doesn’t know a single character.”

“Now that I’m back, my son says that people speak very politely these days, and they can even read those Taoist scriptures and such. They’re surrounded by high-ranking officials all the time. They’re nothing like the people in our village!”

The old woman didn't believe it: "Is that really true?"

"Of course it's true! Would I lie to you?"

"A high-ranking official..."

The villagers sighed, feeling a mix of sympathy, envy, and curiosity towards the Bu family.

I don't know what abilities the gods have, but I do know that Bu Yang is different from those of us who work hard in the fields.

Li Xuan heard their discussion and looked over.

After a few days apart, his apprentice had lost weight, and a dark coffin followed behind him. He, as the son and daughter, walked at the front of the funeral procession.

He looked drowsy and sickly.

The pain of losing his mother had a profound impact on him.

Li Xuan said softly:
"I see."

Li Xuan rested his hand on his gourd, recalling the magical essence of the immortal elixir. He tapped the gourd, communicating with his mind; now, the Daoist magic flowed extremely smoothly, as if it were his own arm.

The faint aura of illness emanating from Bu Yang was dispelled by the slap.

This was the first time Li Xuan had used such a technique, and his mind couldn't take it. He was a little out of breath and had to rest for a while.

He was covered in dirt and looked at the disciples dressed in mourning clothes.

He paused for a moment.

He turned around and left alone.

The disciple, his eyes red and his face haggard, was attending his mother's funeral. For some reason, he felt someone watching him from behind.

He looked back.

But all he saw were a few villagers talking about his family.

Among the crowd was a gaunt beggar with a gourd tied around his waist. With his back to him, leaning on an iron cane, he limped away, taking one step at a time.

The figure inexplicably felt somewhat familiar to Bu Yang, so he looked away.

The funeral procession gradually disappeared into the distance.

On the path to immortality.

Some went south, some went north.

【Ask for monthly ticket】

(End of this chapter)