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

Late at night.

The elderly couple gave Ye Qingfeng the large bed in the main room and went to the small room next door.

"Rest early, Taoist priest." The old woman made up the bed and brought over a clean quilt. "It's cool in the mountains at night, please cover yourself with something thicker."

Thank you.

The oil lamp went out, plunging the room into darkness.

Ye Qingfeng did not lie down, but sat cross-legged on the bed, slowly circulating his meditation technique.

He could sense the atmosphere in the next room—the old woman was asleep, her breathing steady.

The old man sat quietly by the bed, motionless.

It's past midnight.

Ye Qingfeng suddenly opened his eyes.

He got up, quietly left the house, and went into the courtyard.

The moonlight, like water, spilled onto the unfinished stone steps.

The stones gleamed with a cold, hard light in the night.

He walked down the stone steps a few steps and stopped at the dead end.

Below is a steep hillside, with jagged rocks and dense shrubs.

It would indeed be dangerous for a 70-year-old woman to walk on such a road.

"Taoist Master, are you still awake?"

An old man's voice came from behind.

Ye Qingfeng turned around and saw that the old man had been standing at the gate of the courtyard at some point, his hunched figure stretched long in the moonlight.

"I couldn't sleep, so I came out for a walk," Ye Qingfeng said calmly. "The old man isn't sleeping either, is he?"

The old man remained silent for a moment, then slowly walked to the stone steps and sat down.

"I...haven't slept in a long time."

These words, though spoken lightly, carry immense weight.

Ye Qingfeng sat down beside him, and the two looked at the night view below the mountain side by side.

"When did you realize you were dead?" Ye Qingfeng asked directly.

The old man's body suddenly stiffened.

Under the moonlight, his face appeared even paler—not the pallor of a living person, but the bluish-white of a corpse.

"You... you noticed?" His voice trembled slightly.

"This humble Taoist has some knowledge of the art of observing qi," Ye Qingfeng said, looking at him.

"Your body has long since lost its vitality, sustained only by a single, unwavering belief. That belief... is it the belief to pave this road, or the belief to care for her?"

The old man lowered his head, and after a long while, he slowly spoke:

"Yes, all of them."

"Three months ago, I slipped while moving stones and rolled down the hillside... I hit my head on a stone."

He touched the back of his head, where there was a wound that had long since dried up.

"I'm dead. But I'm not reconciled... The road isn't finished yet, and she's all alone on this mountain, what will become of her?"

So you "came back".

"Yes." The old man raised his head, his eyes devoid of pupils, only two faint lights formed from his unwavering determination.

"I treated my body with herbs to make myself look alive. I thought... as long as I was careful not to let her find out, I could continue to stay with her and finish paving the way."

"But the deathly aura emanating from you is eroding her life force," Ye Qingfeng said calmly. "If you stay with her for another three months, she will have to go with you."

The old man trembled violently and stood up abruptly: "What?!"

"The aura of death invades the body; even a living person cannot withstand it." Ye Qingfeng also stood up, looking directly at him. "If you truly love her, you should stay away."

"I...I don't know..." The old man covered his face, his shoulders shaking violently. "I just wanted...wanted to spend a few more days with her...wanted to finish paving the road..."

The night wind howled, rustling the hem of his clothes.

Ye Qingfeng could sense that his obsession was beginning to waver.

The old man realized that his existence was hurting his loved ones, and this realization created a violent conflict with his original obsession.

After a long while, the old man raised his head, the light of his unwavering resolve dimming considerably.

"Master, what should I do?"

"Let go of your obsessions and rest in peace," Ye Qingfeng said. "As for this path—"

He turned around to face the steep hillside.

Raise your right hand, palm facing up.

"There are stones on this mountain; they can be used as steps."

As soon as he finished speaking, a pure white flame rose from his palm.

The flames transformed into a streak of light and flew towards the hillside.

Wherever it passes, the rocks silently melt, reshape, and solidify.

Level 1, Level 2, Level 3...

The stone steps descend at a visible speed, each step being the same height and width, with rounded edges to prevent slipping.

Flames, like a brush, and stone steps, like ink lines, outline a winding path down the hillside.

Level 30, Level 50, Level 100...

The old man stared in disbelief at the scene.

Under the moonlight, a Taoist priest in green robes stood with his hands behind his back, flames flickering in his palms, and the rocks bowed their heads in obedience.

The scene was divine and unforgettable.

The flame went out after an incense stick had burned for a while.

A complete stone staircase stretches from the entrance of the courtyard all the way down the mountain, with a total of 520 steps.

The stone steps gleamed warmly in the moonlight, sturdy and smooth, wide enough for two people to walk side by side.

"The road is paved." He turned to the old man. "Your wife can now descend the mountain without any obstacles."

The old man walked shakily to the stone steps and reached out to touch the smooth stone surface.

It felt warm to the touch, as if the flames still lingered.

He suddenly knelt down and kowtowed three times to Ye Qingfeng:

"Great Daoist's kindness...this old man...has no way to repay it..."

"No need." Ye Qingfeng helped him up. "Now that you understand, you should leave."

"I...I want to see her one more time." The old man looked at the hut, his eyes filled with reluctance.

"Go. But remember, never go near her again."

The old man returned to the outside of the hut and did not go in.

He stood by the window, peering through the gaps in the paper windowpane at the sleeping old woman inside.

In the dim light of the oil lamp, her sleeping face was peaceful, with a slight smile on her lips.

"Old woman..." the old man murmured softly, "The road is paved... You won't have to worry about going down the mountain anymore..."

The light of his unwavering conviction slowly emanated from his chest.

"I'm sorry... I didn't know... I would hurt you..."

"Live well...and wait for your child to come back to see you..."

It's getting cold... remember to wear more clothes...

In the final moment when his obsession completely dissipated, the old man's body lost its support and collapsed softly to the ground.

It made a muffled "thump" sound.

Inside the house, the old woman was awakened.

She sat up, paused for a moment, then seemed to realize something, slowly got out of bed, and walked to the door.

Open the door.

Under the moonlight, the old man's body lay outside the door, his face peaceful, as if he were simply asleep.

The old woman did not cry.

She knelt down, gently stroked the old man's cold cheek, and whispered:

"Fool... I knew it all along..."

"You smell so strongly of herbs... I can't smell it at all..."

"You never sleep every night... How come I didn't know..."

"I just...don't want to say it out loud..."

She held the old man's head in her arms and gently rocked it, just as she had done in her youth:

Whether the road is paved or not... is not important...

"Whether you're here or not...that's what matters..."

A tear fell onto the old man's face and slid down his cheek.

......