Starting Cultivation During a Trip

Zhongnan Mountain, Seeking Immortal Valley.

This is the main route into the Zhongnan Mountain Range. March straight in, and you’ll be considered truly within Zhongnan’s domain—countless peaks, scattered like stars, spreading out for hundreds of miles.

”There are so many people.”

Early in the morning, Zhang Fan and Meng Qiwu entered the valley together.

At six or seven a.m., Seeking Immortal Valley looked just like a bustling market, people streaming in endlessly.

”Not surprising. Zhongnan Mountain is too famous. Every year, tourism alone creates jobs for hundreds of thousands,” Meng Qiwu replied with a wry grin.

Zhongnan Mountain is one of the Ten Great Daoist Mountains in the world, and the chief among the Seventy-two Blessed Lands.

Every year, quite a few people come here—some for tourism, seeking to escape urban noise and find a journey of the soul.

Back when Zhang Fan was heartbroken, Li Yishan dragged him out for fun. They’d thought about coming to Zhongnan Mountain, but the peaks here are just too scattered, so they ended up choosing Zhenwu Mountain instead.

Others come as pilgrims, hoping to witness the Immortals said to dwell in this sacred Daoist site.

When Zhang Fan was in university, there was a young professor, in his early forties, who got cancer. Despite aggressive treatment, it progressed to the late stage. In the end, he resigned and came to Zhongnan Mountain, hoping to stumble onto the mystical, to pay his respects and maybe meet an Immortal who could guide or heal him.

Over two years have gone by in a blink—no idea if that professor’s still alive or not.

Then there are the so-called ”hermits”—most are folks frustrated with life or feelings, tired of the cattle-and-horse existence in the city, hoping to break free of the endless rat race, so they come, pick a mountain, and build themselves a hut.

Hermits of this kind have existed since ancient times. Only a few of them are true cultivators—the so-called ”recluses of the mortal world.” People like Ancestor Lv, Ancestor Qiu, and other greats in the Alchemy Dao once practiced as hermits on Zhongnan Mountain too.

”Young man, want a hiking stick? Thirty yuan each—keep walking in and you’ll need eighty-one of them.”

”Need a guide? Daoist Family experts can ascend to the heavens—a bit of worship and you’ll be cured of disease, misfortune gone, lifespan extended.”

”Want to see an Immortal? That’ll cost extra, no guarantees you’ll see one, but the odds are great.”

”Weeklong hermit experience package—a full-on ancient reclusive life, all for just 2,800.”

The further you enter into Seeking Immortal Valley, the more it feels like a huge bazaar. More and more hawkers come forward, and Zhang Fan even spotted people selling grilled sausages and big meat skewers.

”People can do business even out here?” Zhang Fan couldn’t help but remark.

”Around here, doing business can buy you a house and a car,” Meng Qiwu said, smirking.

This whole area is managed by Zhongnan Mountain—they even set up a special trading company. Just a booth here, the annual rent is three hundred thousand.

”Three hundred thousand? For here?” Zhang Fan blurted out.

”Hot commodity. If you want to rent a stand, the transfer fee alone is over a hundred grand.” Meng Qiwu was pretty familiar with mountain business.

”Escape the city noise all you want—even a Daoist sacred site is hard to fully sever from the Red Dust,” Zhang Fan sighed.

No wonder they say the Red Dust grows filthier each day—even WiFi reaches the mountains. Even if you flee to the deepest hills, you can’t really escape the world’s noise. The End of Dharma for cultivation is probably just like this.

”Young man, want to see an Immortal? I know some places…”

Just then, a dark-skinned man sidled over.

Before he could finish, Meng Qiwu waved him off, pulling Zhang Fan away.

”Wait, there are even guides to see Immortals?” Zhang Fan blurted out.

”They’re all just making stuff up,” Meng Qiwu said flatly.

Zhongnan Mountain, being a famed Daoist Mountain, has always boasted stories of Immortals manifesting in the mortal world. Plenty make a living off that—make up a story online, snap a couple blurry photos, and people will flock here to seek spiritual adventure.

”Immortals… Do Immortals really exist in this world?” Zhang Fan couldn’t help sighing.

The purpose of cultivation is to become Immortals, to live forever.

Zhang Fan, as a cultivator, had already stepped into the Great Master Eighth Realm—compared to ordinary folk, you could say he was a Celestial Being. Yet when it came to legendary Immortals, he still found them vague and out of reach.

”So, what do you think an Immortal is?” Meng Qiwu suddenly asked.

Zhang Fan froze. For such a common question, he honestly didn’t know how to answer.

”The Ancestral Master once said, ’Immortals dwell in the mortal world,’” Meng Qiwu said gravely.

”Immortals dwell in the mortal world?”

”Immortals are made of mortals—but perhaps mortals lack the resolve,” Meng Qiwu murmured quietly.

”Immortals are everywhere, but very different from what we imagine.”

”How do you mean?” asked Zhang Fan.

”Chongyang Zhenren once said: ’Immortals do not flaunt their holy achievements before others...’” Meng Qiwu intoned softly.

In most people’s eyes, Immortals should ride clouds, glow with celestial light, their manifestation heralded by miracles and omens.

But true Immortals blend their radiance with the Red Dust, returning to the mundane.

The greatest elephant has no shape; the highest sage is ordinary!

”Back when Ancestor Zhengyang enlightened Ancestor Lv, he did so in the guise of a refined gentleman.”

Ancestor Zhengyang—Zhongli Quan himself. Back when he enlightened Ancestor Lv, he disguised himself as a high-brow gentleman. As Ancestor Lv was heading home after failing the exams, Zhengyang led him to a thatched hut to rest. One dream of yellow millet, a hundred years in the mortal world—at last, great awakening, and enlightenment to the Dao.

”Ancestor Zhengyang’s manifestation was that of an ordinary man.”

The so-called enlightenment from Immortals is given only to those with karmic connection. Sometimes, there’s no dramatic show of Divine Techniques—it might just be a conversation, a sentence, a look…

Zhang Fan was lost in thought, suddenly remembering a story: there was a man, steadfast all his life, who worshiped Immortals devoutly, day and night burning incense. One day, a flood struck—but he wasn’t afraid at all, convinced the Immortals would come to save him.