Cultivating Immortality Through a Hundred Lifetimes: I Possess the Heavenly Book of Merit

The crowd gradually quieted down.

Each of the seven golden beans had its owner. The person who got one clutched it tightly in their hand, stepped aside, and watched the others warily. The person who didn't get one stood up dejectedly, brushing the dust off their knees, their eyes still lingering on the ground with resentment.

On the altar, the abbot still stood there, as if the chaos just now had nothing to do with him.

He flicked his whisk lightly, his voice neither loud nor soft, yet it firmly suppressed all the whispers:

"Your minds are so easily disturbed by mere gold and silver."

His tone was not blaming, but rather carried a hint of pity, like a loving father scolding a naive child.

"The true value of the Dao lies in its ability to turn the ordinary into the extraordinary, and transform the mundane into the miraculous. When you attain enlightenment, ten thousand taels of gold will be nothing more than a flick of your wrist. To fight over a mere one or two gold coins today—is this not losing the greater for the lesser?"

Several people in the crowd blushed and lowered their heads.

"Once you attain the Dao and enter the path of immortality, you can obtain gold and silver at will. No matter what you seek, you must remain steadfast in your original intention."

"The magical arts of immortals are ever-changing, and anyone with a sincere heart can learn them."

"Thank you for your guidance, Abbot."

The crowd was extremely excited and bowed in gratitude, expressing their utmost admiration for the abbot.

The other party did not say anything more, but nodded slightly and turned to walk into the hall.

The young Taoist boys bowed as they saw them off.

"Congratulations to the audience——"

The childish voice trailed off, echoing across the stone platform in front of the hall.

Only when the palace door slowly closed, isolating the ethereal figure, did the people before the altar seem to awaken from a long dream, looking at each other in bewilderment, each regaining their composure after their earlier lapse in composure.

"Go back, everyone."

The young Taoist on the left turned around, his face once again displaying a maturity beyond his years.

"I am Yinhuan, and I will guide you on the path to immortality. Today, the Abbot himself has given you this instruction, which is an immense blessing for you. Go back and contemplate it carefully, and do not fail to repay the compassion of the Immortal Master."

The crowd began to disperse in twos and threes.

Yu Yan followed behind, his pace neither hurried nor slow. He kept his eyes down, but his peripheral vision remained fixed on the direction of the stone pillar on the west side.

The man also stood up, brushing the dust off his knees with a casual gesture. He didn't look in Yu Yan's direction, nor did he deliberately distance himself; he simply mingled in the crowd and walked back unhurriedly.

The two were about seven or eight steps apart, one in front of the other.

However, Yu Yan noticed that the person turned around and entered from another group.

Neither the boy with the silver ring nor anyone beside him changed their gaze, failing to notice the other's movements.

"Looks like they've come looking for me."

Yu Yan thought to himself, but remained outwardly calm, lowering his eyes and following obediently behind Yin Huan.

The mountain mist rose again, enveloping the altar, halls, and corridors in a hazy gray-white hue.

Silver Ring led them through the ripple-like barrier back to the previous house, where they found no one else there.

The young Taoist led them back to the dimly lit longhouse, stood at the door, and in a detached tone gave them the following instructions:

"Stay indoors and don't go out. Lunch will be delivered at noon."

The crowd responded nods and filed in.

Yu Yan chose a seat by the window, leaned against the wall, and lowered his gaze to his knees.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the young monk follow him in as if nothing had happened, and quietly sit down in a corner at the other end of the long kang (heated brick bed).

The young Taoist turned and left, his footsteps fading into the distance under the corridor.

The room was quiet for a moment, then it was broken by the rumbling sound coming from my stomach.

Some people cleared their throats awkwardly, while others quietly pressed their stomachs.

Yu Yan glanced up and swept his eyes over the sallow faces.

Their cheekbones protruded, their eyes were sunken, and their lips were chapped and peeling; they were clearly starving.

He lowered his eyes and remained silent.

After about the time it takes for an incense stick to burn, light footsteps came from outside the door.

The young Taoist pushed open the door and entered, carrying a black lacquered tray with several rough earthenware bowls on it.

He walked to the only low table in the room, put down the tray, and set out the bowls and chopsticks.

"Lunch is here, everyone come and get yours."

Everyone stood up and lined up neatly, taking turns to get their bowls.

Yu Yan followed behind, looking down at the contents of the bowl.

A grayish-brown, mushroom-shaped, shriveled tuber with a wrinkled surface and a faint earthy smell.

A few dark-colored, dried grass leaves were placed next to it, their edges already curled up.

There was another wild fruit, about the size of a finger joint, dark red in color, with a dull luster, and it was unclear how long it had been there.

There was nothing else besides that.

There was no rice, no noodles, and not a single trace of meat.

Yu Yan took the bowl and retreated to the corner. He gently picked up the dried grass leaf with his fingertip and brought it close to his nose to smell it.

The medicinal fragrance was extremely faint, almost completely masked by a stale smell.

Do people who cultivate themselves eat this?

The young Taoist boy stood by the door, his gaze sweeping over the crowd.

"The Lord of the Dao is merciful and, considering that you are new to the path of cultivation, grants you a daily meal of Ganoderma lucidum and fruit to nourish your spiritual roots and cleanse your impurities."

He paused, his face solemn:

"For those who cultivate immortality, purity is of paramount importance. Meat and fish are the source of impure energy, and flesh and blood are all filthy bodies. If you indulge in the desires of your mouth and eat meat and fish, impure energy will enter your body, and your spiritual aperture will be clouded. In this life, you will have no chance to become immortals. Not to mention ascension, even the foundation building stage will be hopeless."

The crowd nodded in agreement, their expressions of awe evident.

Someone immediately put their hands together and whispered something to the bowl of grayish-brown tubers, as if it were a prayer before a meal.

The young Taoist nodded in satisfaction and turned to leave.

The door closed, and the footsteps faded into the distance.

There was a moment of silence in the room, followed by the sound of soft, careful chewing.

No one dared to waste a single grain of grass. Those few withered blades of grass were chewed and chewed until they turned into mushy fibers before they could barely swallow them.

The grayish-brown tuber was as hard as old wood; some people couldn't bite it, so they would hold it in their mouths and slowly moisten it, like melting a piece of candy.

The crumbs left at the bottom of the bowl were wiped away again and again, then dipped in saliva and put into the mouth.

Yu Yan saw the child he had interacted with the previous night, holding the rough earthenware bowl with his head down; it was empty.

The person next to them had an extra portion of food in their bowl.

"You're new here and don't know the wonders of Ganoderma lucidum. Let me try it first. A newcomer should have the awareness of a newcomer."

The man was stuffing something into his mouth while talking, and he was about to turn around and bully the newcomer Yu Yan, but the next second...

bang——

He was thrown to the ground by Yu Yan.

Yu Yan didn't hold back and went up to deliver two more kicks. Seeing that the other person was completely unconscious, he looked around, and everyone lowered their heads and pretended not to see anything.

As if to distract themselves, they began to talk in hushed tones.

"How long have you been up the mountain?" a voice asked timidly.

"It's been almost two months."

Another voice answered, weakly.

"Have you ever seen the Abbot perform magic before? Is this the first time?"

"This is the first time. The abbot is extremely busy; how could he possibly have time to come see us every day? To be able to personally receive the Immortal Master's guidance is an immense blessing—didn't that young Taoist just say that?"

"That's right, that's right..."

After a moment of silence, someone else spoke, their voice low and hoarse, as if they didn't speak often:

"I did it for my brother."

Several pairs of eyes turned towards them.

The speaker was a young man in his early twenties, with a thin face and dark circles under his eyes.

"My younger brother... has contracted a strange illness and has been coughing for three years. We've sold everything we could, but the doctor said there's no cure. I heard that there are immortals on Qianmen Mountain who can turn stones into gold and bring the dead back to life."

He paused, his Adam's apple bobbing.

"I want to ask the abbot to grant me magical powers so I can go back and save my brother."

Having been up the mountain for so long, how long can his younger brother hold on?

Can we still wait for him to go back?

No one reminded him, for fear that saying it would cause despair.