My words have become law; I truly have no desire to display my divine power before others.

Deep in the Wild Boar Forest, the night was already as dark as ink.

Ye Qingfeng stood under an ancient pine tree and looked up at the moon's shadow, which was fragmented by the dense branches and leaves.

It was already past 11:45 PM, and owls were hooting in the forest, while the occasional growl of wild beasts could be heard in the distance.

It's too late. I should find a place to rest. Staying up late is not a good habit.

Although he doesn't need to rely on sleep to compensate for his current strength, he doesn't want to change the habits he developed in his previous life.

Cultivating the Tao is all about following one's nature!

The question is—where are any houses in these deep mountains and forests?

Go back to find Chi Yangzi?

Ye Qingfeng immediately rejected the idea.

Firstly, we have already traveled more than a hundred miles, and turning back would be a waste of time.

Secondly, having just established the image of a reclusive sage as "Qingwei Immortal Master," it would be a loss to have to turn back for help if he couldn't find a place to stay.

"A truly accomplished person should act like one." He shook his head, gave a self-deprecating laugh, "I can't exactly camp out in the wilderness, can I?"

So be it.

He closed his eyes and concentrated, his senses gradually expanding.

As night falls, the scent of the mountains and forests rises like mist—the green of the grass and trees, the earthy yellow of the earth, the aquamarine of the night dew, and the occasional dark red of wild animals… all are the breath of nature.

Suddenly, about twenty miles to the northeast, a very faint wisp of "smoke and white vapor" came into view.

There are people living there!

Ye Qingfeng opened his eyes, and without hesitation, chose a direction and took a step forward.

Shrinking the earth to an inch.

As the scenery shifted, he appeared halfway up a low hill.

The sight before him startled him slightly.

Under the moonlight, a simple but tidy courtyard stands quietly in a clearing in the woods.

Three mud-brick houses surrounded by a bamboo fence.

Several rows of vegetables were planted in the corner of the yard, and they were growing well.

The most eye-catching feature is the unfinished stone steps outside the courtyard.

The path leading down from the courtyard gate is paved with only about thirty or forty steps, after which there are steep slopes and jagged rocks.

"There really are people living so deep in the mountains." Ye Qingfeng thought to himself with surprise, and stepped forward to knock on the wooden door.

"Tap, tap, tap."

The knocking sounded exceptionally clear in the quiet mountain night.

A moment later, a dim yellow light shone through the windows of the main room.

"Who is it?" came an old but gentle female voice.

Ye Qingfeng said loudly, "This humble Taoist priest, Qingwei, has wandered here and it is getting late. I wish to ask for lodging for the night. Would you be so kind as to grant me this request?"

There was a rustling sound inside, and then the door opened.

An elderly woman with gray hair and a kind face came out carrying an oil lamp.

Behind her followed a thin, slightly hunched old man who looked about ten years younger than the old woman, but was in good spirits.

"Please come in, Taoist priest." The old woman opened the wooden gate with a smile. "How did you end up here in these deep mountains and forests?"

Ye Qingfeng stepped into the courtyard, his gaze inadvertently sweeping over the old man.

His brow furrowed almost imperceptibly, but his expression remained unchanged: "Thank you both. I intended to travel through the night, but I unfortunately lost my way. I apologize for disturbing you."

"No trouble at all." The old man's voice was a little stiff, but his tone was warm. "It's rare for guests to come to the mountains. Old woman, go and make the Taoist priest a bowl of noodles."

"Okay," the old woman replied, hanging the oil lamp under the eaves and turning to go into the kitchen.

Ye Qingfeng followed the old man into the main house.

The house was small, and although the furnishings were simple, it was extremely clean.

An eight-immortal table, two long benches, and two old wooden boxes placed against the wall.

Faded New Year pictures were pasted on the wall, and two pots of wildflowers were placed on the windowsill.

The most eye-catching thing is the big bed against the wall—covered with faded blue sheets, and two thin blankets folded neatly.

"Please sit, Taoist priest." The old man gestured to the bench and sat down opposite him. "The mountain dwellings are simple; please don't find them unpleasant."

"Living in the mountains is peaceful and quiet, which is already a rare treat." Ye Qingfeng sat down and glanced at the old man again.

But he still didn't say anything, just chatted idly with him.

The sounds of boiling water and chopping vegetables came from the kitchen.

Before long, the old woman brought in a steaming bowl of noodles.

The noodles were ordinary hand-pulled noodles, the soup was clear, and a poached egg was placed on top, sprinkled with chopped green onions, and the aroma was irresistible.

"Eat it while it's hot, Daoist Master." The old woman placed the bowl in front of Ye Qingfeng with a warm smile. "There's nothing good in the mountains, so please make do with this."

"Thank you." Ye Qingfeng accepted the chopsticks with both hands and picked them up.

The noodles smell delicious.

The eggs were laid by our own chickens, the scallions were grown in the yard, and a few drops of sesame oil were added to the soup.

For families living in the mountains, this is the highest level of hospitality.

He ate his noodles quietly, while the elderly couple sat opposite him watching, their eyes full of kindness.

Outside, the mountain breeze whispers softly; inside, the oil lamp casts a dim yellow light.

At this moment, there was an inexplicable sense of peace.

After finishing the noodles, the old woman collected the bowls and chopsticks to wash them.

The old man kept Ye Qingfeng company as they talked.

"Where do you come from, Taoist priest?"

"East China Sea."

"The East Sea...that's really far." The old man's eyes showed longing. "The farthest I've ever been in my life is Jingyang Prefecture."

"Is it difficult to walk in the mountains?"

"Yes." The old man sighed, his gaze fixed on the unfinished stone steps outside the window.

"You see that road? I originally planned to pave it all the way down the mountain from the gate of the courtyard, so that it would be convenient for my wife to go down the mountain to buy rice and oil. Unfortunately..."

He shook his head and didn't say anything more.

Ye Qingfeng followed his gaze.

The stone steps were carved and paved one by one from the mountain stones. They were neat and meticulous, with each step being the same height and the edges and corners being polished. It is evident how much effort was put into them.

But less than a third of it was laid.

"Why not finish laying the paving?" Ye Qingfeng asked.

The old man was silent for a moment, then said in a low voice, "I... I don't have time."

These words are quite meaningful.

Ye Qingfeng didn't press further, instead asking, "How old are you, sir?"

"I'm sixty-three, and my wife is seventy-eight." The old man smiled—a slightly stiff but sincere smile—"She's fifteen years older than me."

"Oh?" Ye Qingfeng was somewhat surprised.

"When we were young, she was a widow in the village, and I was a carpenter from out of town." The old man's eyes gleamed with reminiscence.

"The villagers gossiped that I was after her house and her little bit of property."

Actually... I just like her. She's kind, good-hearted, and it's not easy for her to raise a child alone.

"And then?"

"Later I brought her here on this mountain," the old man said calmly.

"It's more than ten miles from the village, so no one is gossiping about it anymore. We built houses here, cleared land, and raised chickens."

Her older children have all grown up, settled down in the city, and occasionally come back to visit us.

He paused.

"The path down the mountain is too difficult to walk. She's old and her legs aren't good, so I worry about her every time she goes down the mountain. That's why I thought of laying down a stone step for her."

"How long did it take to lay the paving?"

"Three years." The old man looked at his hands—rough, calloused, and scarred. "It's a pity... that's all I've done."

The sound of water in the kitchen stopped. The old woman came out wiping her hands, dried them on her apron, and smiled.

"Master, don't listen to this old man's nonsense. We can pave that road slowly, there's no rush."

Ye Qingfeng looked at her, then at the old man.

I couldn't help but sigh.

"The two of you have a very deep affection for each other," Ye Qingfeng said softly.

The old woman smiled, the wrinkles at the corners of her eyes piled up like chrysanthemums: "Half a lifetime. I didn't realize it when I was young, but now that I'm old, I know that having a companion is better than anything else."

The old man reached out and gently took the old woman's hand.

Two aged hands clasped together—one warm, the other cold.

The old woman's body trembled almost imperceptibly, but she gripped the handle even tighter.

......