I'm Not An Immortal (The Adventure of Jian Chou) - Chapter 5
Chapter 5
Jianchou’s voice, in the night, carried by the night wind, was like the leaves hanging on the treetops in late autumn—drifting and trembling.
Having long been accustomed to the joys and sorrows of the human world, having seen too much scheming and deceit among cultivators, seeing Jianchou like this, the Wandering Taoist couldn’t help but feel a trace of pity.
He was certainly not one of those barefoot doctors who needed to check a pulse to determine a person’s condition.
With just one glance from these eyes, he could see everything.
“Taoist?”
Jianchou asked again, her voice filled with hope.
Perhaps she wasn’t a qualified mother.
After all, when she first learned she was pregnant, she felt no sense of realization.
Only now, as she looked around, did the emotions surge forth—she was about to become a mother!
Counting with her fingers, it had only been a few hours.
The Wandering Taoist slowly lowered his hands, let out an awkward laugh, and said nonchalantly, “Check a pulse? How could I, a Taoist, possess such mundane skills? Girl, you’ve asked the wrong person.”
“……”
Jianchou suddenly became despondent.
The hand she had been resting on the doorframe slowly slid down.
Her clear gaze fell on the Wandering Taoist, as if trying to gauge whether his words were true or false.
“Taoist, your powers are vast. Even if you can’t check a pulse, there must be other methods…”
“How would I know?”
The Wandering Taoist shook his head hurriedly, his eyes darting around.
One moment he looked at the green tiles under the eaves, the next at the dark night beyond the courtyard, and then up at the stars in the sky.
“Oh dear, I observed the celestial phenomena tonight—the stars and moon shine together. It signifies that someone with great destiny is about to be born into this world! Girl, maybe it’s you!”
“…Taoist, is the child in my womb… gone?”
Jianchou suddenly asked this question, and the Wandering Taoist froze.
He slowly turned his head to look at Jianchou.
There was deep grief in Jianchou’s expression, and after seeing the Wandering Taoist’s reaction, what more was there for her not to understand?
That pool of blood she saw when she emerged from the coffin suddenly surfaced in her mind.
Even with the Wandering Taoist’s mystical powers, he hadn’t been able to save her child?
A child not even two months old had left her just like that?
Indeed, it had only been a few hours.
She hadn’t even had the awareness of someone about to become a mother…
It was as fleeting as a dream.
Jianchou suddenly felt utterly weak, her throat as though filled with thousands of sharp blades.
She stiffly turned her body away, murmuring, “I understand…”
Step by step, she walked back to the table and sat down again.
The pair of scissors in the sewing basket was so sharp they seemed as though they could pierce her eyes, not to mention the silver locket below, gleaming faintly.
She sat there in a daze, as if she would sit there forever.
The Wandering Taoist in the courtyard let out a long sigh, turned around, and shifted his gaze back to the white goose.
At the exact moment he turned away, from within the house behind him came a muffled, suppressed sobbing.
The owner of that voice seemed to be trying with all her might to control the grief in her heart, but in the end, she couldn’t.
The floodwaters burst forth in an instant, sweeping everything away.
What was once restrained weeping turned into loud, heart-wrenching cries.
It was as if she wanted to pour out all her grievances and helplessness.
She had endured the betrayal of her husband, the pain of losing her child—how could such wounds heal in such a short time?
The Wandering Taoist ultimately did not turn back to look.
He simply climbed over the fence, scooped up the big white goose running wildly on the ground, and, ignoring the goose’s desperate struggles, spoke faintly, “Oh, goose, my mood is not great right now. You’d better not flap around… otherwise, I’ll have no choice but to eat you raw.”
The big white goose shuddered all over, its slender neck drooping immediately, as if it understood the Taoist’s words, and it dared not move again.
Only then did the Wandering Taoist contentedly stroke the goose’s feathers.
“Good goose, good goose indeed. To be born an animal is such a blessing; you don’t have to understand the sorrows and joys of these humans…”
Every time he stroked it, the big white goose trembled, nearly driven mad by the torment.
Who knows how much time passed—the stars and moon in the sky gradually shifted positions.
The sound of crying from the house also gradually ceased.
The Wandering Taoist raised his head and looked toward the door.
Jianchou slowly walked out, stood beneath the eaves, and gazed up at the night sky.
After a long time, she finally spoke, “Taoist, earlier you said you would take me as your disciple. Did you mean it?”
The Wandering Taoist guessed she must be feeling somewhat better, but taking on a disciple was not a matter to be decided so hastily.
He said, “Earlier I asked you, but you didn’t answer a word, showing that you had no real intention of becoming my disciple. Yet now you’ve changed your mind. So let me ask you—why do you wish to become my disciple?”
“To seek immortality and the Dao,” Jianchou replied with certainty.
The Wandering Taoist chuckled, clearly unconvinced.
“Is it to seek immortality and the Dao, or is it to seek revenge?”
Jianchou fell silent.
After crying her heart out, her eyes were rimmed red.
The moonlight, pale as frost, shone into her glistening eyes, lending her an indescribable beauty.
“It’s not that I’m unwilling to accept you as my disciple. But if you enter my sect and pursue my Dao solely for revenge, not only will you make no progress in cultivation, but even if you achieve something, your experiences today will become an insurmountable heart demon. And once that heart demon takes root, seeking immortality and the Dao will become nothing but a joke.”
The Wandering Taoist’s words, for once, were serious and solemn.
The path of cultivation is often fraught with hardship and peril.
Among the millions in this world, most are ordinary folk.
Of tens of thousands of Qi Refining cultivators, perhaps only ten will reach the Foundation Establishment stage.
Among ten Foundation Establishment cultivators, perhaps not even one will achieve the Golden Core stage.
Cultivation is an endeavor where one in ten thousand may succeed.
There’s no room for error, and the requirements for talent and mindset are extraordinarily high.
In Jianchou’s current state of mind, she was truly unsuited for this path.
Previously, the Wandering Taoist had asked her about becoming his disciple because he was moved by her sincerity and felt a certain karmic connection with her.
A person’s mindset determines their success or failure.
Despite the great upheavals Jianchou had endured, she could still smile at times and even say, “I will be the second.”
The Wandering Taoist was not a being wholly detached from human emotions; naturally, he could perceive the quality of Jianchou’s heart.
As for her earlier words, “If that’s the case, I’ll kill him,” there was also a rare cold resolve, a certain sternness akin to the Dao itself.
If her heart had no inner demons, taking her as a disciple might lead to great achievements.
What a pity…
The Wandering Taoist was about to abandon the idea of accepting Jianchou as his disciple altogether.
But at the next moment…
“The big white goose will come with you. Take me as your disciple.”
Jianchou stepped out from under the eaves, stood before the Wandering Taoist, and spoke with a calm and steady voice.
If not for the fact that they were in this remote mountain village, if not for the surrounding dilapidation, if not for the fact that Jianchou stood before him wearing nothing but coarse cloth garments—
The Wandering Taoist would have thought she was saying, “I’ll give you the Sword Tomb of the Eternal Immortal Emperor, and you’ll take me as your disciple!”
What kind of joke was this?
A mere big white goose!
The Wandering Taoist looked down at the big white goose still in his arms, his face filled with indignation.
“Am I, in your eyes, such a petty and vulgar person? Do I seem like someone who would be tempted by such a trivial offering? Cultivation is a grand and sacred pursuit! Back in my day, with just a bamboo staff, I roamed the Six Realms and Nineteen Continents. Everyone who saw me had to bow and call me ‘Grandfather.’ With such power and prestige, you wish to become my disciple—and you offer me nothing but a goose?! Outrageous!”
His nostrils flared as if they were about to emit steam.
The Wandering Taoist glared at Jianchou, his eyes practically turning red.
“Do you think I would be so easily swayed by a single white goose?!”
After saying this, his anger seemed to reach its peak, and he tossed the big white goose onto the ground with a thud.
“At least make it two!”
“……”
Jianchou stared steadily at the Wandering Taoist, her gaze filled with an indescribable disdain.
This man really was…
He gave one an irresistible urge to roll their eyes.
Jianchou couldn’t quite put her feelings into words.
She remained silent for a long time before escaping from that strange emotion and said, “Right now, all our geese have run away, and there isn’t a second one. But finding another goose is an easy matter. Someday, I’ll find another one for you.”
“That’s more like it.”
The Wandering Taoist snorted, seemingly satisfied.
He looked at the goose he had just thrown to the ground.
The goose was still dazed, as if it couldn’t understand how it had gone from being so “favored” to suddenly being cast aside.
Hurriedly, the Wandering Taoist bent down and picked up the big white goose again.
Earlier, when he had thrown it for dramatic effect, he had secretly cushioned the fall with some minor technique to ensure no harm came to it.
Heaven forbid… it shouldn’t actually get scared.
Without even raising his head, he said to Jianchou, “Then our deal is settled. Perform the apprenticeship ceremony.”
“apprenticeship ceremony?”
Jianchou had seen some of his miraculous techniques along the way and knew this man was no ordinary figure.
But as for how to properly perform an apprenticeship ceremony, or if there were any special rituals involved, she had no idea.
She humbly asked, “May the Taoist please instruct me.”
The big white goose in the Wandering Taoist’s arms seemed utterly terrified, frozen into a silly goose with no reaction at all.
The Wandering Taoist sighed deeply and said, “Even your family’s big white goose seems to have more spiritual awareness than you. What’s there to instruct about an apprenticeship ceremony? Just kowtow three times with sincerity.”
As he spoke, his expression suddenly became solemn.
With his empty hand, he gripped his bamboo staff and struck it onto the ground.
With a crisp “crack,” a deep blue halo spread outward from the bamboo staff, rippling like water until it stabilized at a distance of thirteen feet and six inches.
The halo lingered for only three breaths before gradually fading, as if it had been absorbed into the earth.
Jianchou, the Wandering Taoist, and… well, the big white goose, were all within that circle.
This was the first time Jianchou had witnessed such a magical sight so vividly.
For a moment, the Wandering Taoist’s face seemed to be illuminated by a sacred glow.
He said, “Kneel.”
Heaven, Earth, Sovereign, Parents, and Teacher—once a teacher, forever a father.
Jianchou understood the importance of respecting one’s master and upholding the Dao better than anyone.
But it still felt strange.
She was actually about to have a master, and she was about to step onto the immortal path?
Lifting the hem of her coarse cloth skirt, Jianchou knelt on the ground, raised both hands above her head with palms facing downward, and touched them to her forehead before bowing deeply.
The moon hung askew, and the wind was clear.
The shadows of the trees swayed gently.
As Jianchou bowed, her palms naturally touched the damp soil of the courtyard.
The cold earth felt like her calm and undisturbed heart at this moment.
If severing all worldly ties was the end of mortal attachments, then at this moment, she had perhaps severed them all.
She had no father, no mother, no idea where she had come from, nor where she would go.
Her husband had abandoned her, and the unborn child in her womb would never have the chance to call her “mother.”
Though the world was vast, there was no longer a single person, object, or event that could stir her heart.
This feeling was empty—vastly and achingly empty.
One bow, one kowtow.
Another bow, another kowtow.
Three bows, three kowtows.
The moment the apprenticeship ceremony was completed, a faint light suddenly emanated from where Jianchou knelt, spreading outwards.
The light was dim, carrying a grayish, chaotic aura—not bright, but distinct enough in the night to be clearly seen.
It formed an octagonal pattern about ten feet wide, with intersecting lines dividing it into numerous smaller grids, resembling an intricate chessboard.
As Jianchou rose, the octagonal chessboard pattern gradually faded, as if it had never appeared at all.
“What… was that just now?”
Jianchou had never seen anything like it in her life.
It seemed as if the pattern had appeared specifically because of her completed salute.
She looked towards the Wandering Taoist, only to see him frozen in place, a blank expression on his face.
At that moment, the Wandering Taoist felt as if he were dreaming.
Finally, the big white goose in his arms reacted, jumping out of his embrace.
Yet, he didn’t even glance at it.
“A ten-foot… a ten-foot Wanxiang Doupan…”
Wanxiang Doupan?
“What is that?” Jianchou asked, curiosity piqued.
