Unintended Immortality-Chapter 447: A Boat Journey to Qiong Mountain

“Qiong Mountain is easy to reach!” Qinghuaizi said to Song You, “Yangzhou has an extensive waterway network, and most people prefer to travel by boat. Daoist Master, tomorrow, just go to the ferry dock and find any boat heading towards Yangdu—you’ll be able to reach it that way.

“However, there’s no official dock at Qiong Mountain, so you’d best take a small boat. If you set out early in the morning, you should reach the foot of Qiong Mountain by mid-afternoon or near sunset.

“If you take a large boat, though, you’ll have to disembark at the next official dock, and that means walking an extra twenty li back to your destination.”

Qinghuaizi paused for a moment, worried that Song You might not be familiar with the route, and explained further in detail, “If you’re worried about finding the right ferry, just tell them you're heading to Yinhua County. Traveling east from here, there aren’t many large mountains—just smaller, unimpressive ones.

“As you approach the Yinhua dock, you’ll see a towering mountain range on your right-hand side. Facing the river, there’s a steep cliffside, as if cut by a knife, with no grass growing on it. That is Qiong Mountain.”

Song You remarked, “Sounds like quite the scenic view.”

“It’s one of the rare, truly grand mountains in Yangzhou,” Qinghuaizi said with a smile. “When I was in my twenties, I traveled to other regions as well. I’ve been to Qiong Mountain and Yinhua multiple times for rituals.”

“Then I’ll consider it a trip to admire the autumn scenery from the heights.”

“A refined pursuit, Daoist Master!”

“How much is the boat fare to Qiong Mountain?”

Upon hearing this, the young girl also turned her restless little head, focusing her gaze on Qinghuaizi.

“That depends on what kind of boat you take,” Qinghuaizi laughed. “Yangzhou is wealthy, and the route eastward—whether to Qiong Mountain or Yangdu—runs along Qingnu River, with all sorts of boats available. If you take one of the lavish boats preferred by merchants and scholars, with singing courtesans, dancing girls, and plenty of wine, then the fare will be quite expensive.

“If you take a smaller boat, the cost depends on its size and how many people are aboard. Generally, for one person, it’s around twenty wen. However, if you're traveling upstream on the way back, the price doubles.”

“Yangzhou’s merchants and scholars certainly know how to enjoy themselves.”

“Which type of boat will you take, Daoist Master?”

“A small boat will do.”

“A fine choice! A light boat on flowing water—one can travel a hundred li in half a day.”

“Many thanks, Daoist friend.”

“It was just a casual conversation—no need for thanks.”

After speaking, Qinghuaizi furrowed his brows slightly, unable to suppress his curiosity. He asked, “Is it true that the State Preceptor has passed on? Why have I not heard any news of it? And how did you come to know?”

“I would not dare to lie,” Song You replied. “We entered Langzhou from Yaozhou, and before that, we traveled from Fengzhou into Yaozhou. While passing through Fengzhou, we happened to witness the State Preceptor’s demise.”

“You saw it with your own eyes?”

“With my own eyes.”

“This...” Qinghuaizi was visibly shaken. He froze for a moment before sighing deeply.

Song You, however, was not surprised at all.

In the hearts of Daoists across the land, Changyuanzi held an exceptionally high status and an impeccable image—especially among orthodox Daoist temples.

First, as the State Preceptor, he hailed from Luming Mountain, one of the four great Daoist mountains in the world, a lineage beyond reproach. This naturally granted him a prestigious standing within Daoist circles. Second, during his time in power, he held sway over the imperial court, elevating the status of Daoist temples and cultivators throughout the Great Yan Dynasty.

Commoners revered Daoism, and officials and noble families likewise showed great respect. Every cultivator benefited directly from his influence. Moreover, both at court and among the people, the State Preceptor had an excellent reputation. It was only natural for Daoists to see him as a role model.

Song You said nothing. After finishing his tea, he bid farewell to Qinghuaizi and departed.

The young girl and the boy followed closely behind him.

It was only long after they had left that a young Daoist apprentice entered the room to clean up the tea utensils. Curiously eyeing the still-thoughtful Qinghuaizi, the apprentice asked, “Master, who were those two guests?”

“I have never seen them before.”

“Then why were you so respectful to them?”

“They must be immortals of the mortal world.”

“Immortals?”

“Mount Jiurang, the Anle God...” Qinghuaizi muttered to himself. Unable to suppress his growing curiosity, he suddenly stood up.

“I need to find out what has happened in Mount Jiurang...”

***

The next morning, at Qingnu ferry dock...

At the bustling ferry dock, a young Daoist stood with nothing but a shoulder pouch slung across his body. The pouch had two compartments—one holding a calico cat, its round head peeking out, curiously observing the world around it, while the other contained dry rations. The Daoist leaned on a bamboo staff, scanning the ferry dock and the bustling travelers and boats.

The place was lively and prosperous. Along both sides of the river, all kinds of boats were neatly lined up—small rowboats, canopy boats, large and small yellow boats, cargo ships, beautifully-decorated boats—all arranged in an orderly fashion along the waterfront.

Laborers hauled goods onto ships, while travelers carried luggage, setting off for distant lands or bidding farewell to loved ones.

Standing still with his staff amid the passing crowds, the young Daoist felt as though he were standing still while the entire world flowed past him.

Or perhaps, he was merely passing through this era.

At this very moment, among the countless people passing by, boarding small boats to set off on their journeys, who was to say that one of them wouldn't be a poet whose verses would be recited for a thousand generations—causing future scholars to struggle with memorization? Or perhaps one of them was a statesman whose influence would shape the entire world?

If Song You possessed the abilities of Grandmaster Tiansuan, he could sweep his gaze over the crowd and witness the fate and fortune of each individual.

But he did not—so he simply enjoyed the moment in his own way.

“...” A slight smile appeared on Song You’s lips as he finally took a step forward.

Before he could even get close, someone called out to him, “Sir, where are you headed?”

“To Qiong Mountain.”

From within the crowd, someone immediately shouted, “Do you mean Qiong Mountain in Yinhua?”

Song You turned toward the voice—it was a middle-aged boatman.

“That's right.”

“Just one more passenger needed! We’re leaving right away!”

“How much is the fare?”

“The same as going to Yinhua County. Once we reach Qiong Mountain, I'll find a good spot for you to disembark. I’d just trouble you to jump ashore—then you’re there,” the boatman said with a cheerful grin. “Let’s say twenty-five wen.”

“Meow...”

“Twenty wen.” Song You lowered his head and stroked the cat’s head.

“The wind isn’t in our favor today,” the boatman groaned. “I’m barely making enough to cover my labor.”

“Meow!”

“Twenty wen. All in coins.”

Song You couldn't help but smile—his mind suddenly drifting back to Nianping ferry dock, from when he traveled to Anqing all those years ago. Old memories were always so easy to stir up.

Even the cat tilted its head upward, staring at Song You. It, too, seemed to find the conversation oddly familiar.

“Sir, please board the boat!” The boatman pulled up a small rowing boat.

The small rowing boat was small—each row could only seat one person, so passengers had to sit in a single file. From a distance, it was hard to tell whether they were sitting or squatting.

However, the boat’s advantage was its lightness and speed. The boatman’s earlier complaints about unfavorable winds were clearly a lie—in truth, the current was with them, and the wind was at their backs. Drifting eastward, they easily outpaced several larger boats.

Once they left Qingnu County, the scenery on both banks turned into fertile farmlands and rolling hills.

No one spoke much on the boat.

The boatman, noticing that Song You was a Daoist, exchanged a few words with him. But for most of the journey, Song You simply sat quietly, watching the riverside landscape, occasionally petting the cat, whispering a few words to Lady Calico.

Before he even realized it, they had already traveled a hundred li. And in the distance, along the riverbank, towering mountains finally appeared.

The river began to wind through a canyon, flanked on both sides by towering mountains. The cliffs were almost vertical, with not a single blade of grass growing on the barren rock faces. The once graceful and picturesque scenery of Yangzhou now took on a majestic and imposing grandeur.

“We've reached Qiong Mountain!” The boatman turned back and shouted to Song You, pointing toward the sky. “This is Qiong Mountain—Tianmen Rock.”

“This mountain looks enormous.”

“It’s big indeed!” The boatman grinned. “It only seems small from afar. Once you're up close, you won’t even be able to see the sun!”

“The scenery is quite stunning...”

“In a moment, we’ll reach a good spot for you to jump ashore. I’ll slow down the boat—just push off hard and leap up, so we won’t have to find a proper docking place.”

“Thank you.” Song You counted out twenty wen and handed it to the boatman.

The small boat soon drifted near a suitable landing spot along the riverbank.

The cat had already positioned itself at the edge of the boat, standing alert. It had been glaring at the boatman the entire time, its expression serious. The moment the boatman called out “Jump!”, the cat suddenly tensed and sprang forward with a graceful, effortless leap, landing firmly on the shore.

A round of cheers and praise erupted from the boat.

Song You followed suit, stepping forward and leaping onto the bank.

The boatman, still standing aboard, chuckled as he poled the boat forward, praising Song You’s cat for its intelligence.

The small boat carried its remaining passengers downstream, gradually disappearing into the distance.

The calico cat remained impassive, entirely unfazed by the boatman and passengers' astonished admiration. Instead, it simply tilted its head upward and fixed its gaze on Song You before finally speaking, “If we hadn’t sold our boat, I could be out here ferrying people and making money too.”

“You’ve been holding that in all this time, haven’t you?”

“Boat work is good money!”

“Lady Calico, you should focus on writing your overseas travel journal instead,” Song You replied, raising his head to look toward the sky. “I wonder if the Xiangle God is still here.”

Just as the boatman had said—only at the mountain’s foot did one truly grasp its size.

Looking up now, the dense forest canopy left only tiny patches of sky visible. The cliffs and mountain peaks ahead seemed to stretch on endlessly, their summits hidden from view.

Somewhere in the distance, a swallow had already flown deep into the mountains, seeking out the temple.

Song You took his first step and made his way into the mountains.

The air here was rich with spiritual energy, a land of good mountains and good waters. The occasional chirping of birds made the mountains feel even more serene. Though it was late autumn, the vegetation had not withered much—the forest remained lush and green. A narrow mountain path stretched ahead, its destination unknown.

Following the swallow’s lead, Song You soon found the temple of the Xiangle God. But the temple had already fallen into ruin.

It had only been a small shrine at the foot of the mountain, and now, its statue lay shattered, the altar collapsed. Broken bowls and shattered tiles were scattered in front of the temple, nearly swallowed by the overgrown weeds.

There was no longer a trace of incense or worship.

“The temple... looks like it’s rotting away,” the calico cat turned back and remarked to the Daoist.

“I see it.”

Song You nodded, yet his gaze remained fixed on the mountain above.

The spiritual energy in the mountains was even denser than at the foot.

Without stopping to inspect the temple, Song You took another step forward, continuing up the mountain.

This was a fine mountain—perfect for climbing to great heights.

Somewhere in the distance, he faintly heard a woodcutter singing freely among the hills. His voice echoed through the valleys, full of lingering charm. Birds, drunk on fermented berries, lay toppled along the roadside, helplessly intoxicated.

“The pine winds stir, the tea’s mist sways, I drift in clouds, lost in their haze. How do you know, with sight so mortal, That I am not an unseen immortal?

Beneath the moon, before the breeze, Unfettered, light as autumn leaves. In joy, I sing—the night feels deep, When weary, I simply sleep.”

The melody drifted like poetry, half-sung, half-recited, its rhythm lingering in the air.

Following the direction of the voice, Song You soon encountered a woodcutter.