Time flowed quietly, and in the blink of an eye, six years had passed.
Xiao Lingyu had grown from a soft little bundle into a plump, healthy child.
As early as eight months, when most babies were just starting to speak, Xiao Lingyu adamantly rejected the name “Gou Dan” and insisted on being called Xiao Lingyu.
Perhaps his resentment toward that name ran too deep—he focused entirely on changing it, completely disregarding the fact that most eight-month-old infants could barely utter a single syllable. Not to mention, most of the beggars in the temple couldn’t even write his three-character name, let alone imagine he could.
Fortunately, with Old Shui Shu’s earlier remark of “innate fortune” as a foundation, even when Xiao Lingyu acted unusually, the others believed it was natural, and no one suspected he was abnormal.
This gave Xiao Lingyu the freedom to act without hiding his adult consciousness behind a child’s facade. After all, it was no small feat for a man who had lived over thirty years to pretend to be a toddler.
Over the past six years, through day-and-night cultivation, Xiao Lingyu had steadily advanced. Despite the lack of surrounding spiritual energy and no elixirs to aid him, his exceptional talent and previous life’s experience allowed him to reach the ninth level of the Qi Realm—just one step away from achieving mastery and breaking into the Refining Realm.
Had it not been for two instances in which he depleted all his spiritual energy and had to start over, Xiao Lingyu might have already become a master of the Refining Realm.
Compared with his smooth cultivation, his daily life was harsh and miserable. Anyone who had lived a life of luxury for over twenty years, like Xiao Lingyu had in his previous life, would have struggled to adapt to life as a beggar.
The beggars around him, however, treated him with extraordinary care. Any leftover food or scraps they received were eagerly saved for him. Although Xiao Lingyu often refused these offerings, the beggars’ enthusiasm was relentless.
During the first two years, his body too small to venture out, he was forced to stay among the beggars. But when he reached three years old and had cultivated to the fourth level of the Qi Realm, Xiao Lingyu planned to leave. Yet, the woman who had acted as his mother, the so-called Madwoman, fell gravely ill.
Several times he considered abandoning her and leaving, but every time he was about to go, he could hear the sick woman muttering his childhood nickname, “Xiao Yuzi.” Even the ruthless Xiao Lingyu of his previous life could not bear to leave her.
He even spent his precious spiritual energy to heal her body and purge her illness, wiping out all the power he had painstakingly cultivated over the years. With no strength left, he was forced to start his training all over again.
And leaving? Without any cultivation, he was still an ordinary three-year-old child—not daring to walk away.
By the time his cultivation had recovered again, Xiao Lingyu was four. Once more, he contemplated leaving, but Old Shui Shu, his de facto guardian, fell ill.
Again, Xiao Lingyu exhausted all his spiritual energy. Thankfully, having learned from the previous experience, he recovered his power within just a few months this time.
These two complete depletions and recoveries laid a solid foundation for Xiao Lingyu’s future cultivation—a blessing in disguise, perhaps.
Over the years, to improve his life, Xiao Lingyu would occasionally visit wealthy households in the city. As a result, the lives of the beggars in the temple also improved. They even pooled money to repair the temple they lived in, transforming it from a ramshackle shelter into a proper place that could withstand the elements.
Two more years passed, and Xiao Lingyu was now six. Over the past two years, he had repeatedly considered leaving, only to change his mind due to various circumstances.
This year, he resolved that he would leave no matter what. His cultivation had reached a bottleneck, and he needed a place rich in spiritual energy to prepare for his breakthrough. Moreover, in his previous life, it was at six years old that he encountered the disciples of Yun Tian Sect in Wucheng and was taken under his master’s wing.
This time, however, Xiao Lingyu wanted to avoid repeating that path. He wished to stay far from the sect and that person, refusing any entanglement with love, seeking only the freedom to pursue immortality on his own terms.
To avoid Yun Tian Sect, he had to leave Wucheng. With a sigh, he turned his face toward the crowd trailing behind him.
The children who followed him perked up when they saw their leader finally adopt a contemplative pose, as if to say he had given up on leaving.
“Boss Xiao, I have candy for you!” squealed the chubby little one who loved sweets the most.
“Boss Xiao, I have osmanthus cakes! Eat mine!” cried the enthusiastic little black-haired boy.
“Boss Xiao, Old Shui Shu says I’m grown up now, so I can marry you!” boasted the prettiest chubby girl.
“I want to marry Boss Xiao too!” insisted another little black-haired boy.
“Boss Xiao is a boy, and so are you. You can’t marry him. Only I can!” argued the stubborn chubby girl.
“I don’t care! I’m marrying Boss Xiao!” countered the black-haired boy throwing a tantrum.
Xiao Lingyu stared in disbelief at the snot-nosed little children before him, while Old Shui Shu, sunbathing nearby, laughed so hard his loose teeth rattled.
“Don’t tell me you can’t bear to leave?” The voice of the old man in his bracelet—the so-called “Old Ghost”—rang in Xiao Lingyu’s mind. Over the years, this mysterious elder had accompanied him, often bumbling and unreliable, yet it was precisely this presence that helped Xiao Lingyu finally let go of his previous life and embrace a new one.
Despite their familiarity, the old man never revealed his name, letting Xiao Lingyu simply call him Old Ghost.
Xiao Lingyu didn’t respond to the elder’s teasing. Though he had resisted the beggars’ care at first, over these years, they had given him warmth he had never known in his prior life. He felt deeply indebted to them and wished to ensure their future well-being.
Yet that was all. Beyond this, his pursuit of immortality would separate him from these beggars forever; their lives would follow the cycles of the mortal world, and their paths would never cross again. It was truly time for him to go.
Determined to leave, Xiao Lingyu made sure the beggars’ lives were secure, at least to ensure they would live without worry. The rest, he could not control.
One day, Xiao Lingyu again tended to the city’s wealthy households. That night, all the beggars sleeping in the temple had the same strange dream. In it, the blurred figure of the Land Deity expressed gratitude for their efforts in renovating the temple and instructed them to dig a hole 100 meters in front of it, which contained blessings.
At dawn, the beggars discovered silver coins glinting from the earth. Overjoyed, they kowtowed repeatedly, thanking the Land Deity for its manifestation.
Among them, Xiao Lingyu remained expressionless, following the beggars in their kowtows. Though he had labored tirelessly—moving silver in the dead of night, using his consciousness to guide them—the credit was all attributed to the deity.
The Old Ghost’s voice chimed in once more, “Who told you to obscure your face? Now they’re bowing to you as if you were the deity.”
Xiao Lingyu ignored the elder’s remark.
That day, the beggars did not go out to panhandle, and the people of Wucheng noticed their absence.
Being the only literate beggar, Old Shui Shu fairly divided the silver among them, calling it the blessings of the Land Deity, meant for everyone. Grasping their newfound fortune, the beggars eagerly prepared to leave for better lives elsewhere, following the deity’s guidance.
“Old Shui Shu, if the Land Deity blessed us because we cared for this temple, why must we leave?” one asked.
“Yeah, shouldn’t we stay to continue taking care of it?”
The others looked to Old Shui Shu, the sole scholar among them, for guidance.
After a moment of thought, he said, “I once heard that when the moon is full, it wanes; when water fills, it overflows. Life is the same. The blessings the Land Deity gave us are ours to enjoy, but only by leaving can the next batch come. If we stayed, we’d be blocking the blessings meant for others. What was a blessing would become a misfortune.”
“That’s right! Let’s pack up and go; someone else must be waiting to take our place.”
“Exactly! Let’s leave tomorrow!”
The Old Ghost added, unusually admiring, “It’s surprising that a mortal could grasp the way of Heaven, though his talent is lacking. In the past, mortals and cultivators lived separately. Nowadays, they coexist. Cultivators constantly scheme for worldly power, but the essence of cultivation is to follow the Way, to experience and ultimately unify with it to attain immortality.”
“Pfft!”
Xiao Lingyu rolled his eyes. The longer he spent with the Old Ghost, the less he resembled the dignified mentor he had imagined.
“What do you mean by following the Way? You’ve already gone against it, yet still seek the Way? True cultivation should follow the Way of Heaven. One experiences it through perception, ultimately uniting with it to achieve immortality. Try going against it prematurely, and lightning would strike you dead.” The Old Ghost ranted, growing more animated. “The entire cultivation world today has lost its direction. Back then, mortals were mortals, cultivators were cultivators. Now, they intermingle, and a cultivator’s mind is consumed by mundane concerns.”
Xiao Lingyu’s expression darkened further, the elder’s words striking too close to past grievances.
The Old Ghost, without seeing, continued, “Oh? Not pleased? Remember, someday, you will inevitably encounter that person again in the cultivation world. You already show dissatisfaction at the slightest mention. Imagine meeting them in reality.”
Xiao Lingyu could only sigh inwardly. It wasn’t the mere mention of that person that upset him; it was the Old Ghost’s endless provocation.
Finally, night fell. Exhausted, Xiao Lingyu claimed the first bed and “fell asleep,” puzzling the others who knew he was usually the last to rest. Perhaps he was unhappy about leaving Wucheng?
Under concerned gazes, he lay there feigning sleep. In his mind, the Old Ghost concluded his lecture, “That’s enough for today. Reflect on what I’ve said, and tomorrow we continue.”
The first part invigorated Xiao Lingyu, but the second part drained him.
He silently prayed that Heaven would spare him from such endless chatter. If only he could have been scattered to the winds six years ago…