I was a mineral prospector in Chengdu, who transmigrated into the body of a mortal sword immortal.

In the early morning at Qingcheng Mountain, mist rises from the valleys like a milky-white veil, layer upon layer wrapping around the mountainside. Li Bai and Wu Zhinan stand at the foot of the mountain, looking up, the eaves of the Taoist temples appear and disappear in the mist, like celestial pavilions suspended in mid-air. The air is filled with the scent of pine needles and earth, moist and cool, invigorating the spirit when inhaled.

"This is Mount Qingcheng," Wu Zhinan said, his voice exceptionally clear in the quiet valley. "The most secluded place under heaven is Mount Qingcheng. Brother Li, where shall we begin?"

Li Bai didn't answer immediately. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. His instincts as a geological engineer from his previous life made him subconsciously analyze the geological structure here—it was a typical karst landscape, with limestone mountains, well-developed caves, and abundant groundwater. Such geological conditions were indeed conducive to the formation of a unique microclimate and energy field. He opened his eyes and pointed to the largest Taoist temple on the mountainside: "Let's go there first."

The stone steps were steep, each one worn smooth by countless footsteps. Li Bai walked ahead, his steps steady. The short sword Wu Zhinan had given him the night before was tied to his waist; the scabbard tapped gently against his thigh with each step, producing a rhythmic thud. Wu Zhinan followed behind him, his breathing slightly rapid—these stone steps were nothing to him, a seasoned traveler, but he hadn't slept well the night before at the town's small inn.

"Brother Li," Wu Zhinan stopped to catch his breath as they reached a platform, "do you really believe there are Taoist priests on Mount Qingcheng who can teach people to fly on swords?"

Li Bai also stopped. Several ancient pines stood around the platform, their needles glistening with dew in the morning light. In the distance, the sound of bells rang out, long and ethereal, echoing through the valley.

"I don't know," Li Bai said calmly, "but we should at least try."

He recalled the geological reports he had read in his previous life, records of anomalous magnetic fields in the mountainsides along the edge of the Sichuan Basin, and phenomena in certain areas that defied explanation by conventional physics. Most of those reports were categorized as "unsolved mysteries," or simply suppressed and kept secret. But now, standing here, he suddenly felt that those "unsolved mysteries" might just be the gateway to another side of this world.

The two continued upwards. The higher they climbed, the thinner the fog became, and sunlight filtered through the gaps in the pine forest, casting dappled shadows on the stone steps. The red walls of the Taoist temple gradually came into view, covered with damp moss that shimmered with a dark green hue in the sunlight.

***

"Flying on a sword?"

Inside the main hall of the Taoist temple, a middle-aged Taoist priest put down his whisk and looked at Li Bai with a strange expression. The priest wore a blue Taoist robe, the hem of which was somewhat worn, but it was very clean. He sat on a futon, with an open copy of the Tao Te Ching in front of him, the pages yellowed and the edges curled up.

"Layman," the Taoist's voice was gentle, but carried a distinct sense of detachment, "our Qingcheng lineage cultivates tranquility and inaction, and refines internal elixirs for health preservation. The kind of sword immortal techniques you mentioned... killing one person in ten steps and leaving no trace for a thousand miles, are just stories from martial arts novels, and should not be taken seriously."

The hall was quiet. Sandalwood incense burned in the censer, its wisps of smoke rising and swirling in the sunlight. On the offering table sat statues of the Three Pure Ones, their expressions compassionate yet serene. Outside, the clear, melodious chirping of birds drifted in.

Li Bai stood in the hall, his back ramrod straight. He could feel Wu Zhinan sigh softly behind him.

"Master Daoist," Li Bai began, his voice calm, "I've heard that the Shu region has been home to many immortals since ancient times, and Mount Qingcheng is one of the birthplaces of Taoism. Is there not a single record of the legacy of ancient immortals in these mountains?"

The Taoist priest shook his head. He picked up his whisk and gently brushed away non-existent dust from his sleeves: "Layman, cultivating immortality and seeking the Tao requires a calm mind. When the mind is calm, the spirit is clear; when the spirit is clear, the Tao is understood. Those fighting and killing spells are nothing but heretical practices; cultivating them is useless and can easily lead to demonic possession."

He paused, then looked at Li Bai: "I see that you, sir, possess an extraordinary bearing and must be a scholar. Why not calm your mind, read some scriptures, and cultivate your character? The tranquility of Qingcheng Mountain is perfect for self-cultivation."

Li Bai remained silent. He stared into the Taoist's eyes, which held no malice, only a calm that bordered on pity—a calm that acknowledged the Taoist's delusions but was too lazy to call him out on it.

"Thank you for your guidance, Daoist Master." Li Bai bowed slightly, then turned and walked out of the main hall.

Wu Zhinan followed him out, lowering his voice: "Brother Li, this..."

"Keep asking," Li Bai said, his steps unwavering. "One Taoist temple doesn't represent the whole picture."

***

Over the next three days, they visited almost every Taoist temple open to the public on Mount Qingcheng.

In Chaoyang Cave, a young Taoist priest was meditating when he heard Li Bai's question and burst out laughing: "Sword Immortal? Layman, have you been reading too much 'The Legend of the Swordsmen of Shu Mountain'? That's all fiction, a lie."

At Shangqing Palace, an old Taoist priest with a white beard stroked his beard and said slowly, "I have cultivated Taoism for seventy years and have never seen anyone fly on a sword. However, there are a few fellow Taoists who have achieved success in cultivating inner alchemy and can live to be a hundred years old, with sharp hearing and eyesight. This is indeed true."

In the Ancestral Master Hall, a Taoist priest in charge of interpreting divination slips even seemed somewhat impatient: "Layman, you asked for a divination slip to inquire about your future, which I can interpret. But if you're asking about such vague and unrealistic things, please leave."

Each time, Li Bai's hopes were dashed a little more. Each time, the short sword at his waist seemed to grow heavier.

On the evening of the third day, the two sat down to rest on a large rock by the mountain path. The setting sun painted the western sky orange-red, and the villages and towns below were already twinkling with lights. Wu Zhinan took out some dry rations from his bag—a few flatbreads, which had already hardened a bit. He broke one in half and handed it to Li Bai.

"Brother Li," Wu Zhinan took a bite of the biscuit, chewed for a long time before swallowing, "Should we...continue?"

Li Bai took the cake but didn't eat it immediately. He looked at the cake in his hand; its surface was rough, and he could see the grains of wheat bran. He remembered the compressed biscuits he ate during field expeditions in his previous life—they were just as hard and dry.

"Yes," he said.

Wu Zhinan looked at him, seemingly wanting to say something but then stopping himself.

"I know what you're thinking," Li Bai said softly. "You think I'm crazy, running all the way to this remote mountain forest for some vague legend, asking about things that don't even exist."

Wu Zhinan did not speak.

Li Bai raised his head and gazed into the distance. The mountains stretched endlessly in the twilight, like frozen waves. Further away, even higher peaks rose, their outlines appearing exceptionally sharp in the afterglow of the setting sun, like swords pointing towards the sky.

"Guide," Li Bai said, "do you believe in fate?"

Wu Zhinan paused for a moment, then asked, "Fate?"

"It's that feeling... you know the ending, but you're powerless to change it." Li Bai's voice was calm, but Wu Zhinan detected a slight tremor. "It's like watching someone walk towards a cliff. You shout and run as fast as you can, but you just can't catch up. You can only watch helplessly as that person falls."

Wu Zhinan fell silent. He recalled the look in Li Bai's eyes when he spoke of Yang Guifei, that unfathomable pain and despair.

"I believe it," Wu Zhinan finally said, "but I believe even more that people cannot do nothing just because they know the outcome."

Li Bai turned his head and looked at him. The afterglow of the setting sun shone on Wu Zhinan's face, revealing a rare seriousness on that young face.

"Thank you," Li Bai said.

He stuffed the bread into his mouth and chewed it vigorously. The bread was hard, but it smelled delicious.

***

On the morning of the fourth day, Li Bai decided to go and take a look at the back mountain.

The front of Mount Qingcheng is dotted with Taoist temples, bustling with worshippers and throngs of tourists. But the back mountain is sparsely populated, with only a few narrow paths trodden by woodcutters winding through the dense forest. Wu Zhinan wanted to offer advice, but seeing Li Bai's gaze, he swallowed his words.

"I'll go with you," Wu Zhinan said.

The air on the back mountain was cooler and more humid. Pine, fir, and various other trees whose names I didn't know formed a dense canopy, allowing sunlight to filter through the leaves and cast dappled patterns on the ground. The ground was covered with a thick layer of fallen leaves, soft and rustling underfoot. The air was filled with the scent of humus and moss, along with a faint, herbal aroma.

After walking for about an hour, a small Taoist temple appeared ahead.

It was more like a thatched hut than a Taoist temple. Three simple rooms, earthen walls, thatched roofs, and a few strings of dried red chilies hanging from the eaves. The courtyard was small, paved with bluestone slabs, moss growing in the cracks. In the courtyard stood an old locust tree, its trunk so thick it took two people to encircle it. Beneath the tree sat a stone table and two stone stools.

An old Taoist priest was sitting on a stone bench, closing his eyes to rest.

The old Taoist priest was very thin, almost skin and bones. He wore a faded gray robe, patched but clean. His hair was completely white, loosely tied in a bun on top of his head and secured with a wooden hairpin. His face was deeply wrinkled, like a dried-up riverbed. But what was most striking were his hands—resting on his knees, his fingers long and slender, with distinct knuckles, and his skin, though covered in age spots, had a jade-like luster.

Li Bai stopped and stood outside the courtyard gate.

He didn't go in immediately, but observed quietly. His training as a geological engineer in his previous life had instilled in him the habit of observing the environment before making a judgment. The hut's location was peculiar—it was backed by a steep rock face covered with vines. A stream flowed in front of the hut, its waters gurgling. Behind the hut was a bamboo grove, its leaves rustling in the wind.

More importantly, Li Bai sensed that the air here was different. Not the temperature, not the humidity, but a kind of... texture. It was like the feeling he had in his previous life when he was in a laboratory near a strong magnetic field; his skin would tingle slightly, and his hair would stand on end.

"Since you're here, come in."

The old Taoist priest opened his eyes and looked at the courtyard gate. His voice was very old, but very clear, like a mountain stream, clear and powerful.

Li Bai pushed open the door and walked into the courtyard. Wu Zhinan followed behind him.

"I'm disturbing your peaceful cultivation, Daoist Master." Li Bai bowed respectfully.

The old Taoist priest didn't get up, but simply nodded, gesturing for them to sit on the stone bench opposite them. The stone bench was cool and smooth, probably because people had sat on it for years.

"What brings you two laymen to this remote place?" the old Taoist asked, his gaze lingering on Li Bai's face for a moment.

Li Bai didn't beat around the bush: "This junior would like to ask the Daoist master if he knows of any lineages of sword immortals in Shu?"

The old Taoist priest was silent for a moment. He picked up the earthenware pot on the stone table and poured three cups of tea. The tea was pale yellow, steaming, and emitted a strange aroma—neither floral nor tea fragrance, but a scent reminiscent of a mixture of pine needles and herbs.

"Have some tea first," the old Taoist said.

Li Bai picked up his teacup. The teacup was made of coarse earthenware, thick and warm to the touch. He took a sip; the tea was slightly bitter at first, but sweet in the aftertaste. A warm current flowed from his throat to his stomach, then spread throughout his body. He suddenly felt much less tired than before.

"Good tea," Li Bai said.

The old Taoist smiled faintly, almost imperceptibly: "This coarse mountain tea is nothing to mention."

He put down his teacup and looked at Li Bai: "Why does the recluse seek the legacy of the sword immortal?"

Li Bai did not hide the truth: "It was to save people."

"Whom should we save?"

"A...very important person," Li Bai said, "a person who, if I don't save him, will meet a tragic end."

The old Taoist priest remained silent. He stared at Li Bai for a long time, something seeming to flicker in his cloudy eyes. Li Bai could feel that gaze piercing through his flesh, seeing into his bones, his soul, and all his memories from his past and present lives.

"Layman," the old Taoist finally spoke, "you carry heavy burdens in your heart and deep-seated obsessions."

Li Bai did not deny it.

"Too much attachment can easily lead to demonic possession," the old Taoist said. "The essence of cultivating immortality and seeking the Dao is letting go."

"If I let go, then that person will be gone," Li Bai said, his voice soft but firm. "Then what's the point of my cultivation of immortality?"

The old Taoist priest fell silent again. He picked up his teacup and slowly sipped his tea. The courtyard was quiet, with only the sound of wind rustling through the bamboo leaves, the flowing stream, and the faint chirping of birds in the distance.

"Sword Immortals..." The old Taoist put down his teacup and said slowly, "I heard about them when I was young. That was a long time ago."

Li Bai's heart began to race.

"Legend has it that deep within the Shu region, in the pristine forests rarely visited by humans, lies the legacy of ancient immortals." The old Taoist's voice was slow, as if recalling a distant dream. "Those legacies might be the cave dwellings left behind by ancient cultivators, the secret realms formed by nature, or perhaps... something we cannot comprehend."

He paused, then looked at Li Bai: "But those places are not places that ordinary people can go. It requires great opportunity, great perseverance, and even... a price to pay."

"What price?" Li Bai asked.

"I don't know," the old Taoist shook his head. "Everyone who goes there encounters something different. Some come back, insane. Some come back, ten years older. Some... never come back."

Li Bai clenched his fist. He could feel the sweat on his palm.

"Does the Taoist priest know the exact location?" Wu Zhinan couldn't help but ask.

The old Taoist glanced at Wu Zhinan, then looked at Li Bai: "When I was young, I heard a wandering Taoist friend mention this. He said that the true legacy of the ancient immortals is not in these famous mountains with their flourishing incense offerings, but in a much deeper place. In the depths of the sea of ​​clouds of Emei, in the heart of the main ridge of the Shu Mountains... even woodcutters dare not go to those places."

"Shushan?" Li Bai pressed, "The legendary Shushan Sword Sect?"

The old Taoist priest laughed, this time with a more pronounced smile: "The Shu Mountain Sword Sect? That's just something from a storybook. The real Shu Mountain isn't a single mountain, but a whole region of mountains. Nobody knows how big that region is. Nobody knows what's inside. All I know is that nine out of ten people who go in never come out."

He stood up, walked to the locust tree, and looked up at the canopy. Sunlight filtered through the branches and leaves, casting dappled shadows on his face.

"Layman," the old Taoist priest said, his back to Li Bai, "if you really want to go, I advise you to think it over carefully. Too much attachment can lead to getting lost. Too much power can lead to losing control. Some paths, once embarked on, cannot be turned back."

Li Bai also stood up. He walked to the old Taoist priest's side and stood beside him, looking at the old locust tree.

"Master Daoist," Li Bai said, "if I don't go, I will regret it for the rest of my life."

The old Taoist priest turned his head and looked at him. For the first time, a clear emotion appeared in those cloudy eyes—pity, worry, and a hint of…admiration?

"That's enough." The old Taoist sighed. "Everyone has their own destiny, and you can't force it."

He took something out of his pocket and handed it to Li Bai. It was a palm-sized wooden plaque, dark in color and heavy, with strange patterns carved on its surface—not writing, but more like some kind of symbol or fragments of a map.

"This was left behind by my wandering Daoist friend," the old Daoist said. "He said that if one day someone really wants to seek the legacy of an ancient immortal, he should give this to him. But whether he can understand it or use it depends on fate."

Li Bai took the wooden plaque. The plaque was cool to the touch, and the textured patterns felt raised and uneven. Upon closer inspection, he discovered that the patterns didn't seem to be carved on, but rather were natural growth patterns of the wood that had simply formed a certain design.

"Thank you, Daoist Master." Li Bai bowed deeply.

The old Taoist waved his hand: "No need to thank me. I just... don't want to see yet another young man die in vain."

He turned and walked towards the thatched hut: "The tea is finished, you should go now. Remember, if you really want to go, prepare plenty of dry food and fire starters. In the deep mountains, the most terrifying things are not wild animals, but getting lost, the cold, and loneliness."

Li Bai and Wu Zhinan bowed again, then turned and left.

As Li Bai walked out of the courtyard, he glanced back. The old Taoist priest had returned to the stone bench, closed his eyes again, as if nothing had happened. Only the old locust tree swayed gently in the wind.

***

The road down the mountain was even more silent than the road up.

It was already afternoon when they reached the small town at the foot of the mountain. The town was very small, with only one main street lined with shops and inns on both sides. The two found a noodle shop and ordered two bowls of vegetarian noodles. The noodles were served steaming hot, with a few pieces of green vegetables floating on top.

Just as he had taken a few bites, a man dressed as a courier hurried into the noodle shop, looked around, and his eyes lit up when he saw Wu Zhinan.

"Young Master Wu!" The courier hurried over. "We've finally found you!"

Wu Zhinan looked up, startled, and asked, "You are...?"

"I'm from Mianzhou." The courier took out a letter from his pocket and handed it to Wu Zhinan. "It's an urgent letter that your family asked me to deliver."

Wu Zhinan took the letter and opened it. The paper was rough, and the handwriting was messy, but the content was clear. After reading a few lines, his expression changed.

Li Bai put down his chopsticks: "What's wrong?"

Wu Zhinan raised his head, his face pale: "My father... is seriously ill. My family wants me to return home immediately."

The noodle shop was noisy, with customers talking loudly, waiters shouting, and pots and pans clattering. But Wu Zhinan's voice, like a knife, cut through all the noise.

Li Bai looked at him without saying a word.

Wu Zhinan folded the letter and tucked it back into his pocket. He stared at the noodles in the bowl; the noodles had clumped together, and oil had congealed on the surface of the soup.

"Brother Li," Wu Zhinan began, his voice slightly hoarse, "I..."

"Let's go back," Li Bai said.

Wu Zhinan looked up at him.

"My father is seriously ill, so I should go back," Li Bai said calmly. "I can manage on my own."

"But..." Wu Zhinan wanted to say that the deep mountains were dangerous, that he was too lonely, and that he didn't know when they would meet again. But when the words reached his lips, he couldn't utter a single one.

Li Bai took out some loose silver from his pocket and placed it on the table: "I've paid for the noodles. Pack your things and set off as soon as possible. Mianzhou isn't far from here, but it'll still take two days to get there."

Wu Zhinan looked at the loose silver coins, and his eyes suddenly reddened. He abruptly stood up, took a cloth bag from his waist, and stuffed it into Li Bai's hand.

"Brother Li, please take this."

Li Bai opened the cloth bundle, inside which was the short sword. The scabbard was made of cowhide, somewhat worn, but well-maintained. He drew the sword, its blade gleaming coldly, reflecting his calm face.

"This was left to me by my grandfather," Wu Zhinan said. "He said that a sword is not for killing, but for protecting those who deserve protection. Brother Li, you... must be careful."

Li Bai sheathed his sword and tied it back to his waist. The sword was heavy, but at this moment, he felt a sense of security in its weight.

"I will," Li Bai said.

Wu Zhinan stared at him for a long time, then turned and strode out of the noodle shop. He didn't look back, not even once.

Li Bai sat there and slowly finished the bowl of noodles. The noodles were cold and had a strong oily smell, but he ate them all cleanly, even drinking the soup.

He paid and left the noodle shop. The street was bustling with people. A vendor selling sugar figurines was calling out his wares, several children were chasing and playing, and a woman was buying fabric while holding her child. The sun was shining brightly, warming him comfortably.

Li Bai stood at the street corner, looking westward.

There lay even more vast and desolate mountains, layer upon layer, stretching all the way to the horizon. The outlines of those mountains appeared exceptionally clear and distant in the afternoon sunlight. Above the mountainsides, clouds and mist swirled, like a mysterious veil.

He touched the short sword at his waist, then touched the wooden plaque in his pocket.

Then he started walking westward.

The town behind us gradually receded into the distance, and the sounds of people faded away. Ahead lay a winding mountain road, a dense forest, unknown dangers, and... our only hope.

The wind blows, bringing the scent of the mountains and forests. In that scent, there is pine resin, earth, and a faint, sharp, metallic smell.

Li Bai raised his head and looked at the sky. The sky was very blue, as blue as a huge gemstone. An eagle was circling, its wings spread like a black sword.

He took a deep breath and continued forward.