You've only been cultivating for a few years, and you're already talking about cultivating

The village of Pippolo is named after a tree.

The tree stood in the very center of the village, its branches and leaves so thick that its canopy blocked out the sun. From a distance, it looked like a giant umbrella, shrouding half the village in shade.

The trunk is so thick that it takes seven or eight people to encircle it. The bark is cracked and crisscrossed with ravines, bearing the marks of time.

Legend has it that this Pippala tree once sheltered a passing sage from the wind and rain.

After that immortal left, the tree gained sentience and lived for hundreds and thousands of years, until it is still alive today.

I don't know when it started, but the villagers from the surrounding area have been coming to worship it, writing their wishes on the leaves, tying them with red ropes, and hanging them on the drooping branches.

People prayed for children, for rain, for marriage, for healing from illness—they had all sorts of wishes, and the leaves covered with writing on them rustled in the wind.

It's said to be very effective.

When the prayers were answered, people came to fulfill their vows, and then others donated money to build a temple. The temple was small, with only one main hall and a few side halls, but it was very popular with worshippers, and the air was filled with smoke all year round.

During festivals and holidays, people from all around would come to burn incense, crowding the village to the point of being impassable.

Biboluo Village thus became famous, becoming a must-pass town for merchants, travelers, and journeyers from the north and south.

When Qi Fei passed through here, he had already been away from Nanshan Town for more than a month.

One month. His clothes were faded from the wind and sun, and he looked ashen, like a traveling merchant on his way.

He found a food shop in the village, bought some dry food, and then went to the well to fetch a gourd of water. He squatted on the edge of the well and drank his fill of water.

Just as he was about to get up and continue on his way, a plump middle-aged woman, still holding the copper coin he had just paid, came over and struck up a conversation.

Qi Fei knew she was the shop owner's wife.

"Sir, is this your first time visiting our village?"

Qi Fei nodded.

"Then you absolutely must go and pray to that Pippala tree," the woman gestured towards the center of the village, her tone carrying a simple pride, "It's incredibly effective!"

"Last month, Old Wang's wife from East Street went to pray for a child, and she got pregnant this month. The year before last, Old Li from West Street fell ill, burned a few sticks of incense, and his illness was cured."

"It's good to pray for your safety when you're traveling."

Qi Fei chuckled and didn't respond to the question. He tied the gourd full of water back to his waist, bowed slightly to the woman, and turned to leave.

The two gourds on his waist made him look a bit strange.

The woman stood at the shop entrance, watching his retreating figure, shook her head, and muttered, "That young man is truly ignorant of right and wrong!" before turning and returning to the shop.

Qi Fei walked along the stone-paved road in the village. The houses on both sides were low, with moss growing at the base of the walls, roof tiles, and dried chili peppers and corn cobs hanging under the eaves.

Children chased dogs at the alley entrance, and old people basked in the sun on their doorsteps. Smoke rose from the chimneys, wisps of it scattered in the sky by the wind.

It was quiet, ordinary, and full of the warmth of everyday life.

Suddenly, the word "sword" spoke in his mind, its voice carrying a lively energy that had been suppressed for a long time and could no longer be contained.

During its time in Nanshan Town, it didn't talk much and stayed quietly in the gourd. But after leaving Nanshan Town, it gradually became more talkative, finding everything it saw fascinating and wanting to ask about everything it heard.

"People," it said, "they made a monk bow to a big tree."

Its tone carried a subtle, indescribable confusion.

Since it gained consciousness, it has been inside the "Seven Illusion Sword Formation" and has never left Nanshan.

Those who enter the sword formation are its only window to understanding the world, but that is, after all, just a window.

Looking at the world through a window is completely different from truly standing between heaven and earth and seeing it with your own eyes.

Along the way, it saw living mountains, living rivers, living clouds, living trees, and living people doing living things.

For example, right now, a group of living people are asking a monk to worship a living tree.

It felt somewhat bewildered.

Qi Fei didn't find it strange. He smiled and said, "Their words were well-intentioned and kind."

The sword said in his heart, "But you are a cultivator."

"They don't know I'm a cultivator," Qi Fei said.

"Sword" then said, "Then why don't you say you're a cultivator and then refute her?"

Qi Fei shook his head, continuing his steps, and said, "Because there's no need."

"They have their way of life, and I have mine. When someone kindly offers advice, I insist on saying with a straight face, 'I am a monk, I will not worship this ordinary tree.'"

"Isn't that just arguing, that's being a jerk?"

The sword paused for a moment, as if pondering what "unnecessary" really meant.

It had only recently left Nanshan and was still learning and understanding everything about this world.

Some things are one thing when perceived through a window, but quite another when experienced firsthand. It still needs time.

After walking for a while, it suddenly blurted out, "The way the people talk here is so strange."

Qi Fei said, "This place belongs to the Min Kingdom, so the way we speak is naturally different from that of the previous Great Yan Kingdom."

He finally understood why the Zen madman he met in Nanshan Town could understand the "Lin Bei" joke.

It turns out that there is a similar Minnan dialect in this world.

If he were to call himself "Lin Bei" here, a group of people would probably jump out and roll up their sleeves to teach him a lesson.

"Sword's" voice carried a childlike bewilderment: "Humans, you all look almost the same, but you speak differently. It's really strange."

Qi Fei smiled and said, "That's because you haven't seen enough."

"Once you've traveled to more places and met more people, you won't find it strange anymore."

Mountains have varying heights, rivers have varying depths, people come from different regions, and languages ​​have different origins. There are always things beyond your imagination; that's what the world is all about.

The more you travel, the more you realize that the world is not static, nor is it as you imagined.

As they were talking, the street corner ahead suddenly became lively.

First came a few exclamations, then a chorus of "Look, look!" followed by the crowd automatically parting to the sides, as if an invisible hand had cleared a path for them.

Looking from afar, Qi Fei saw two people walking towards him from the other end of the street.

They were two monks.

They walked barefoot, step by step, on the stone path, their feet free of dust, as if they were walking on an invisible cloud.

The two were enveloped in a faint halo, their faces were exquisitely carved, like two pieces of fine topaz, and their eyes held a serene and composed quality that seemed otherworldly.

Even more remarkably, a lotus flower bloomed beneath their feet with every step they took.

The lotus flowers shimmered with golden light, their petals layered upon each other, blooming gracefully and brilliantly. They lingered on the stone path for a moment before quietly disappearing, as if they had never existed.

But with each step, a new lotus flower rises from beneath your feet.