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

"I did it for my mother."

Another boy chimed in, his voice even softer.

"My mother washes clothes for others, and her hands got so rotten from being soaked in the water. We didn't have money for medicine, so half her hand was infected. I want to learn the art of turning lead into gold, to buy my mother medicine, meat, and new clothes..."

"I want to learn to fly."

A child's voice suddenly broke in. It was the child from last night; because he didn't like to talk, everyone called him Little Mute.

The little mute boy was huddled in the corner of the kang (a heated brick bed), his chin resting on his knees, his eyes sparkling.

"They said my parents went to heaven to help me build a house. I want to fly up to the sky and see if my parents are behind the clouds, and see if my home is there."

The room was quiet for a moment.

Then some people sniffed softly, some lowered their heads, and some quietly wiped the corners of their eyes with their sleeves.

Yu Yan remained silent.

He lowered his eyes, looking at the hard, grayish-brown tuber in his bowl, and then casually put it into the little mute boy's bowl.

"Hey? Aren't you going to eat?"

"I'm not hungry."

"But……"

Yu Yan didn't give the little mute boy a chance. He lay down on the long kang (a heated brick bed), turned over, and faced away from everyone.

Each of these people had their own reasons for going up the mountain.

Poverty, disease, despair, and with nowhere else to turn, they grasped at a straw called "becoming an immortal."

They believed in the magical arts that could bring withered trees back to life and turn stones into gold, they believed in the abbot with his otherworldly demeanor, and they believed in the precepts spoken by the young Taoist that "meat and fish are impure and difficult to consume to achieve the Great Dao."

They were so hungry they were skin and bones, so hungry they licked the bottom of their bowls and gnawed on sawdust, but dared not eat a single grain of rice or a piece of meat.

Because they fear that impure air will enter their bodies.

I fear my spiritual acupoints may be clouded.

I fear I have no affinity with the path of immortality.

Yu Yan kept his eyes closed, his mind filled with doubts.

Do cultivators abstain from meat?

joke.

Without sufficient qi and blood, how can one cultivate techniques and receive spiritual energy into the body? Can one attain enlightenment simply by relying on those dried-up things that have no spiritual energy left?

"This Taoist temple is clearly using the guise of cultivating immortality to deceive people."

Not only did he make a wasted trip, but he also harmed so many people, and even Old Zhang's grandson is still missing.

What kind of cultivation is this?

Intermittent conversations could be heard from next door again; some talked about the smoke rising from the chimneys of their hometown, while others spoke of their mothers' kindness and warmth.

The sounds were very soft, more like murmurs in a dream. When I came to my senses, I realized that everyone had already fallen asleep.

After all, I've been hungry, so falling asleep early might provide some relief in my dreams.

Late at night.

The sounds of breathing rising and falling on the long kang gradually became even, occasionally interspersed with a few indistinct murmurs in sleep and the rustling of turning over.

Moonlight streamed in through the window cracks, casting streaks of silver light on their thin faces.

The little mute boy was curled up in the corner of the kang (a heated brick bed), holding the empty bowl in his arms, sleeping soundly, with a satisfied smile on his lips.

He received an extra piece of "Lingzhi" tonight, probably because he dreamed of something good.

Yu Yan lay on the edge of the kang (a heated brick bed), eyes closed, breathing steadily, already in a meditative state.

He was fully conscious.

As the moon rose high in the sky and the snoring inside grew louder, he slowly opened his eyes.

First, he glanced around to make sure no one was awake, then quietly sat up, landed barefoot, and made no sound.

The door was old, and the hinges were long since dried out; it would probably make a sound if you pushed it.

Yu Yan did not push the door open.

The night wind rushed towards me, carrying the damp chill unique to the mountains.

He stood under the eaves, his consciousness spreading out silently.

The restrictions are still in place, slightly weaker than during the day, and there haven't been any major changes.

Tonight he has only one goal—to find Zhang Silin.

After all, it was something I had promised.

He had seen Old Zhang's portrait once and memorized it thoroughly, ensuring that he could recognize it whenever he glanced at it.

He has a round face, thick eyebrows, and his eyes squint into slits when he smiles, giving him a kind and honest appearance.

Yu Yan didn't know if this person was still in the temple, or even if he was dead or alive.

But we must see the person alive or dead.

He crept eastward, following the shadows of the corridor.

During the day, the young Taoist led them down many side paths, all of which Yu Yan had memorized.

There are more than just those two guest rooms; given the size of the Taoist temple, there might be other courtyards as well.

However, he had just rounded the moon gate when he suddenly stopped.

About ten steps ahead, a dark figure was walking briskly along the base of the wall.

The man was hunched over, but his movements were quite fast.

He was carrying something bulging in his arms, his steps were unsteady yet hurried, and he kept looking back as if afraid of being seen.

Yu Yan held his breath and followed behind.

The dark figure twisted and turned, passing through the corridors, and somehow made its way to the outside of the temple gate.

Yu Yan frowned slightly.

There are specific routes for entering and exiting Taoist temples, and a Taoist boy must lead the way beforehand, but this person seemed to know the place very well.

wrong.

He stared intently and realized that the person was not walking according to the designated path, but rather that a very faint blue light shone from his palm as he walked.

"Rune markings?"

This person had a certificate given to him by the temple.

Are you sending him out to do something?

Yu Yan suppressed his doubts and continued to follow.

The man left the temple gate, his steps unbroken, staggering through the fir forest, and knelt down with a thud under a tree.

It was the fir tree where Yu Yan had hidden his knife yesterday.

The man knelt on the ground, his hands trembling, desperately digging through the grass.

A dry branch scratched the back of his hand, and the blood seeped into the soil, but he was completely unaware.

A moment later, he pulled the long, thin object wrapped in old cloth from the grass.

A butcher's knife—this person's target is the butcher's knife?

The man held the knife, his whole body trembling violently, muttering to himself in a hoarse and broken voice that was difficult to understand.

The moonlight shone on his face, and Yu Yan could see that face clearly.

It's not Zhang Silin.

It was the other person in the guest room whom I had met during the day.

But something seemed off about this person.

At this moment, his face was covered in tears and his eyes were empty and frantic, like a sleepwalker half-awake and half-asleep.

"Filth, this is filth..."

He muttered to himself, raising the knife with both hands, his arms arched back as if to throw it off the cliff.

The next moment, a hand grabbed his wrist.

The man struggled desperately, letting out a trapped animal-like whimper, while his other hand clawed wildly.

"Let go! Let go! The abbot said this is filthy, and it's all because of it that I've failed to attain enlightenment!"

He screamed hoarsely, his eyes completely unfocused, as if he were possessed by something.

Yu Yan remained silent.

He held the man's pulse point and gently probed with his spiritual energy.

A weak and floating pulse, along with an unstable spirit, are sequelae of long-term malnutrition and repeated manipulation of the mind through suggestion.

Ha, that's pretty much what he thought. He felt there was something wrong with this Taoist temple from the beginning, and judging from this guy's state, it's clear that his idea has been confirmed.

Seeing that he couldn't break free, the man freed his other hand, his five fingers forming a claw, and viciously stabbed it towards Yu Yan's throat.

Yu Yan dodged to the side, then with his right hand outstretched like a knife, he slashed at the side of Yu Yan's neck.

The other person's body went limp, and they collapsed to the ground, no longer struggling, sleeping peacefully.

Yu Yan took the butcher knife back from his hand, weighed it in his hand, and casually put it into his sleeve.

He looked down at the unconscious young man on the ground, remained silent for a moment, then dragged him to the tree roots and leaned him against them, checking his breathing again.

Yes, although the pulse is weak, it's quite stable, and there's no immediate danger to my life.

As Yu Yan was pondering how to handle the current situation, he suddenly heard a very faint creaking sound coming from the direction of the temple gate.

"Hmm? This temple is really lively tonight. Who's at it this time?"