Chapter 357: No Fate with Immortality

"You have done well."

Qin Sang had no deep attachment to the Qin Family, but having taken over Qin Sanwa’s body and inherited this causality relationship, he had asked Wu Chuanzong to look after Qin Sanwa’s close relatives for his own peace of mind.

Wu Chuanzong, however, had treated Qin Sang’s words as an imperial decree. Under his care, the Qin Family had risen from humble farmers to an illustrious aristocratic lineage. It could not have been done any better.

Qin Sang had originally planned to leave after meeting his old friend. But seeing Wu Chuanzong’s reluctance to part and Madam Wu’s hesitation to speak, he recalled his own past journey in search of immortality. He then spoke in a solemn tone, "You heard it just now—immortal cultivation is not the paradise people imagine. I can barely look after myself, let alone take on disciples. The best I can do is send them to a relatively safe place to cultivate on their own. If any of the Wu Family’s descendants are interested, they may come to me for an aptitude test. Of course, whether they choose to pursue cultivation or not will ultimately be their own decision."

He had neither the energy nor the capability to guide and protect them.

Even if some among them possessed spiritual roots, the most he could do was point them toward the Han Residence. How far they would go in the future would depend entirely on themselves.

After a moment’s hesitation, Qin Sang added, "You may also call over the younger members of the Qin and Bai Families in the imperial capital."

Leaving Wu Chuanzong to gather the younger generation, Qin Sang sat in contemplation before taking out a piece of white jade, crafting it into several jade pendants.

Past midnight...

The grand preceptor's residence suddenly erupted into commotion.

More than a dozen boys and girls were dragged out of their dreams. At first, they were annoyed, cursing under their breath, but upon realizing they were being taken to the grand preceptor’s residence, excitement quickly replaced their irritation. They huddled together, whispering in hushed voices.

"The grand preceptor summoned us in the middle of the night—no wonder our parents were in such a hurry!"

"What could be so urgent at this hour? Could it be that Grandfather has recognized our talents and wishes to give us important positions?"

"Why are there only members from these three families?"

"Brother Qin is both skilled in literature and martial arts—he is certainly the one the grand preceptor values most. Congratulations are in order, Brother Qin!"

...

"Sir, everyone is here."

Wu Chuanzong stood at the door, reporting in a soft voice. But there was no response from within. His expression changed slightly, and he quickly pushed open the door.

Inside, the candle flames flickered, but the room was empty.

On the desk lay a jade bottle and three white jade pendants.

Qin Sang’s voice suddenly echoed in his ears.

"Chuanzong, none of these children possess spiritual roots. They have no fate with the path of immortality. But this may not be a misfortune."

"This bottle of pills—deliver it to Water Monkey on my behalf. I will not be seeing him."

"These jade pendants bear my protective barriers. One for each of your three families. Should your families ever face the calamity of annihilation, drip your blood onto the jade pendant. The barrier's power will activate and shield you from disaster."

"Remember, each pendant can only be used once, after which it will be destroyed. Furthermore, only the blood from the lineage of the three families can activate it. Do not misuse this item for evil. This is the last gift I leave for you."

"Chuanzong, this farewell may be our last. Take good care of yourself..."

His voice grew distant, fading into the night.

"Sir!"

Wu Chuanzong fell to the ground, sobbing bitterly. Then, as if remembering something urgent, he suddenly raised his head and shouted into the void, "Sir! Before her passing, the late empress left an imperial decree—her coffin was not to be placed in the imperial tomb but buried on Holy Mountain Zhao! She was diligent in governance and lived a frugal life, never marrying, leaving behind no heirs. She once said that the one she favored must be a man of exceptional will, as resolute and indomitable as she was..."

For a long time, there was silence. Then, from the unseen distance, came a soft sigh. "I understand..."

Wu Chuanzong’s face showed a hint of relief as he collapsed onto the ground, exhausted.

...

Holy Mountain Zhao.

This sacred imperial mountain was said to be a resting place for immortals.

Its forbidden grounds were strictly off-limits, with none daring to trespass.

At the rear of Holy Mountain Zhao, a solitary, nameless stele stood in quiet solitude.

The mountain soared thousands of feet high, seemingly within reach of the sun and moon.

From this vantage point, one could overlook the imperial capital below and gaze up at the boundless sky, as if locking eyes with the immortals themselves.

Suddenly, a lone figure appeared on the narrow path leading to the stele. It was impossible to tell how he had bypassed the countless imperial guards protecting the mountain. He held a wine jug in one hand and a wine cup in the other, stepping forward unhurriedly until he reached the nameless stele.

He stood there motionless for a long time.

The visitor was none other than Qin Sang.

Recalling that night before his departure all those years ago, when he had spoken with youthful arrogance—using Holy Mountain Zhao as a metaphor to express his determination to seek immortality—Qin Sang murmured, "So, you still remembered... Fortunately, I never forgot either. Otherwise, how could I have the face to return and see you?"

He uncorked the wine bottle, releasing a rich aroma—the legendary Azure Rainbow Wine lived up to its name.

Pouring a cup, he set it down before the nameless stele and spoke softly, "A toast to you! Congratulations on fulfilling your dream—ascending the throne as a woman and leaving behind a legacy as an unparalleled ruler... The path of immortality is even more difficult than I imagined, but I will not give up. I hope that in the afterlife, you will bless my journey as well."

Lifting the jug, Qin Sang took a deep swig. Even if he sealed his spiritual power, he found that his Foundation Building body could easily withstand the alcohol’s potency.

He turned and walked away.

At first, his steps were heavy. Then, his pace grew firm and steady.

The clear breeze followed him, and the moon shone brightly in the night sky, accompanying his departure.

...

Cuiming Mountain.

Dawn had broken. Many devotees had already ascended Cuiming Mountain, offering incense and prayers.

To Qin Sang’s surprise, the City of Three Witches’ famous bun shop was still there. The current owner was the grandson of the original proprietor and, of course, did not recognize him. The meat buns remained as delicious as ever. Qin Sang indulged himself before making his way up Cuiming Mountain, finding a secluded spot before revealing his presence.

Following the familiar mountain path, he climbed the stone steps. To his astonishment, Qingyang Temple had been fully renovated.

The stone plaque above the entrance still bore the inscription "Qingyang Temple," though the characters had been freshly repainted. The once crooked wooden doors had been replaced with new ones.

Curious, Qin Sang stepped inside. A quick glance around revealed that the temple’s layout remained mostly unchanged from his memory, but the temple walls and halls had been rebuilt with fresh green bricks. Clearly, Qingyang Temple had prospered greatly in recent years.

A burly farmer emerged from Qingyang Hall, supporting an elderly woman. As they stepped out, he repeatedly turned back to thank the temple’s Daoist Master.

The scene felt eerily familiar.

Unlike the impoverished disaster victims Qin Sang had once seen here, this mother and son were dressed in simple yet clean clothing. Though they were not wealthy, they were not starving or in rags either. More importantly, they had not come seeking charity.

On his way here, Qin Sang had observed the surroundings with a casual eye, yet even from these brief glimpses, he could see that the Great Sui was thriving under the empress’ rule. The empire had changed drastically from decades ago.

Qin Sang himself was dressed in a plain long robe, though the garment was actually a protective artifact. Its glow was restrained, but its fine craftsmanship was evident. Combined with his calm and composed demeanor, it was clear at a glance that he was no ordinary man.

The mother and son, fearful of offending him, carefully sidestepped and exited Qingyang Temple. Yet, just before leaving, they hesitated, casting a worried glance back at Qin Sang.

Qin Sang noticed their small action and quickly understood their concern. They feared he had come with ill intentions toward Qingyang Temple.

It seemed that the Daoists here were well respected by the people.

Without delay, Qin Sang strode up to Qingyang Hall and pushed open the doors. The moment he stepped inside, disappointment washed over him.

Nothing had changed. Inside, many patients sat quietly, waiting for medical treatment—just as before.

But the one tending to them was a young Daoist in his early twenties. The old Daoist was no longer there.

Ming Yue was gone.