The Oldest Disciple: Farming Intimacy to Become Immortal

“Are you an Acquired Essence Spirit?”

Li Meng’s voice was gentle, washing over the area like a clear mountain stream. It was a sound that clarified the mind and soothed the soul.

Mu Wanqing looked down at the bleeding Heart Wood in her arms, her expression one of utter desolation.

“My husband and I… we were an ill-fated couple.”

She began her story, her voice trembling. “We met by chance. I was from a wealthy family; he was poor. The disparity was too great for our parents to accept. In the ignorance and impulse of youth, we chose to elope. When we passed Qiyun Mountain, we took shelter in this mansion. We didn’t know… we didn’t know the previous Mountain God was watching.”

Tears streamed down her bark-like face.

“He coveted my beauty. He invaded my dreams and killed me in my sleep. My husband, broken by grief, buried my body beneath the locust tree in the courtyard, then hanged himself from its branches to join me in death.”

She caressed the wood. “The God tried to seize my soul, but this mansion sits atop a Yin Spring. The Yin Fiend Qi eroded my spirit before he could take it, fusing me with the locust tree. I became an Acquired Essence Spirit. And my husband… the Qi twisted him into a ghost.”

“For hundreds of years, I have suffered this erosion,” she whispered. “Becoming this thing… neither human nor ghost.”

Li Meng listened in silence.

Although Yin Fiend Qi was a tonic for ghosts, the old saying held true: excess is just as bad as deficiency. The Baleful Qi hidden within the Yin energy could confuse the mind and seize the soul. Even a ghost would eventually be twisted into a mindless monster.

Li Meng looked at the Heart Wood.

“He is nothing but a remnant soul now. The cycle of reincarnation is closed to him. Even if you feed him your Heart Blood for a thousand years, it may be in vain.”

Mu Wanqing said nothing. She simply hugged the wood tighter.

Li Meng sighed internally. A pair of mandarin ducks, separated by death, united in misery.

He looked up at the full moon hanging in the night sky. His gaze grew deep, filled with a touch of melancholy. The path of cultivation was rarely filled with joy. Suffering was the only constant.

“I will settle the karma with the State of Qi regarding the Mountain God,” Li Meng said, breaking the silence. “You need not worry about retribution.”

Mu Wanqing looked up, staring blankly at the Daoist.

Li Meng glanced at her and flicked his sleeve.

Two golden talismans drifted out, hovering before her.

“This is a Yang Lantern Talisman. Use it to suppress the Yin Spring.”

“The second talisman will aid your cultivation and help you purge the Baleful Qi from your body.”

A small porcelain bottle followed, flying from the Sword Nurturing Gourd at his waist to join the talismans.

“Spirit Tempering Pills. They will cleanse the corruption from your system.”

Mu Wanqing stared at the three treasures floating in the air.

The talismans pulsed with powerful Dao Rhyme. She wasn’t a cultivator, but she had seen wandering rogue practitioners before. Their talismans were like scribbles on waste paper compared to these. If Li Meng’s gifts were a majestic mountain, the rogues’ tools were mere ants at the base.

[System: +50 Favorability] [System: +250 Sub-profession Experience]

Mu Wanqing fell to her knees, intending to kowtow in gratitude.

Li Meng waved a hand, a gentle breeze stopping her descent.

“Madam, there is no need. Everything happens according to fate. This humble Daoist takes his leave.”

The show was over. It was time to go. Staying longer would be meaningless.

Li Meng stepped onto the wind and soared upward. His white robes fluttered, and in the blink of an eye, he vanished into the night sky.

Mu Wanqing stood there, dazed. By the time she came to her senses, the Daoist was gone.

She stood up, her mind reeling. Too much had happened tonight. The twists and turns were dizzying. The Daoist she had sheltered was a true expert—a High Immortal. He had killed a state-sanctioned Orthodox God as easily as crushing a bug.

For a cultivator, killing a God of Mountains and Rivers was a taboo that invited the backlash of a nation’s Luck. Yet he had done it without blinking.

Mu Wanqing knelt again, facing the direction Li Meng had flown. She knocked her head against the ground three times.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

Even in her grotesque form, her figure held a tragic grace.

The next morning.

“Ahhhhh!”

A scream tore through the silence of the mansion.

The scholar, Chen Nanfeng, stood in the courtyard, staring dumbfounded at the devastation. Half the buildings had collapsed. It looked as if a war had been fought while he slept.

“Ghosts! It’s a ghost nest!”

He scrambled for the exit, stumbling over debris in his panic.

“Young Master,” a raspy voice called out from behind him. “Won’t you stay for breakfast before you go?”

The scholar froze. His face went rigid.

He didn’t dare turn around. He simply bowed frantically toward the courtyard.

“No trouble! No trouble at all, elder! This… this humble student takes his leave!”

He bolted. He ran out the gate and sprinted toward the official road, his legs pumping like a windmill.

“Scholars,” the old maidservant muttered, shaking her head. “So timid.”

She stepped forward and pushed the heavy doors shut.

Click.

As the latch engaged, the space around the mansion twisted and distorted.

In the blink of an eye, it vanished without a trace.

Where the sprawling estate had stood, only a quiet, stagnant pond remained.

State of Qi. Linhan City.

Linhan City was the capital of the State of Qi. It was a behemoth of a city, housing nearly a million souls and spanning hundreds of li. Located in the heartland of the nation, it was the convergence point for every major official road.

In the center of the city stood a tower that pierced the clouds, rising hundreds of zhang into the air. It was the tallest structure in the capital.

This was the Tianshi Mansion. It served as both the headquarters for the state’s cultivators and the Imperial Ancestral Temple.

On this day, an old Daoist approached the grand entrance.

“Halt!”

Guards blocked his path with crossed spears.

“This is the Tianshi Mansion. Idlers are forbidden.”

Behind them lay the Martial Arena and a long, imposing staircase leading to the true inner sanctum.

Li Meng chuckled and flicked his wrist. A sect token flew out.

The guard caught it.

“I am Li Feiyu, Inner Disciple of the Joyous Union Sect from the State of Zhao. I seek an audience with the Tianshi.”

The guard looked Li Meng up and down, then tossed the token back with a sneer.

“This is the State of Qi, not Zhao. The Tianshi Mansion has no dealings with the Joyous Union Sect. Scram.”

Li Meng caught the token, his smile unwavering.

“I am a close friend of Fellow Daoist Xia Qian from your mansion. Could you perhaps announce me to her?”

If he couldn’t see the boss, seeing the girl would do.

Hearing the name, the guards stiffened.

“You know Senior Sister Xia?”

The guard on the left eyed him suspiciously. Senior Sister Xia was always running around on missions. Why would a foreign cultivator come looking for her?

Li Meng stroked his beard, looking every bit the mysterious sage.

“We met during a journey in the Western Region Desert. I have urgent matters to discuss with her.”

The guard on the left glanced at his partner. “Is Senior Sister Xia back?”

The guard on the right nodded, though he looked uncertain. “I think so. I saw her a few days ago.”

The left guard turned back to Li Meng.

“Wait here.”

He turned and jogged up the stairs toward the inner gate.

Li Meng stood with his hands clasped behind his back, waiting patiently.

Although their attitude was poor, he wouldn’t hold a grudge against people he’d likely never see again. As long as he got in.

If they refused to announce him… well, Li Meng wasn’t opposed to barging in.