I Only Want to Lie Flat But Am Forced to Cultivate Immortality

Xu Qing looked at the other party's scholarly yet wildly uninhibited temperament, and immediately abandoned the idea of tattooing a dragon on himself.

This style was somewhat too mismatched.

"The incantation to summon the divine dragon is already in your heart, why do you ask me?"

Xu Qing smiled and said, "Your literary spirit is where the incantation resides, whether composing poems or playing music, even debating with scholars, can all unleash the dragon within your heart. This is your path, which I cannot teach you."

Lu Xiu understood instantly, this cultivation technique seemed tailor-made for him, as he was naturally eager to learn, and his scholarly aura wasn't substantial, but it grew day by day.

Gradually flowing, turning into rivers; steadily burning, how fiery it is. Lu Xiu firmly believed that as long as he continued to learn without weariness, there would come a day when the dragon within him would leap into the sky, dispelling all shadows.

After teaching the method of the paper dragon, Xu Qing no longer concerned himself with Lu Xiu's affairs.

He always acted whimsically — from teaching Wang Liang martial arts to opening Tie Zhu's mind, reading and practicing martial arts, to giving Prince Zhu a wisp of purple energy and a brocade pouch — he maintained this mindset.

These individuals were merely travelers he encountered along the way, and when inspired, he might offer a hint or two, but he didn't care about their future choices and achievements.

Before leaving Ning County, Lu Xiu accompanied Xu Qing in performing a ritual for six County Magistrates.

These County Magistrates were not locals of Ning County, they came from various places, chosen through layers of imperial examinations to serve as the rulers of the county.

Xu Qing didn't choose the local cliff burial, but selected a serene location and named it Guiheju.

Outside the cemetery was a green pine grove, while inside, Xu Qing planted plum, orchid, autumn chrysanthemum, and various flowers, using fire cultivation and water nurturing techniques to create a scene.

Upon hearing that six talents were buried here, people wouldn't have any intention of worshiping; funerals were considered inauspicious, and everyone avoided them. How could anyone come to pay respects to an unknown talent?

But in early winter, the blooming flowers presented a different view.

People were curious about strange events; even if a butcher died, and flowers bloomed on his grave during the harsh winter, there would be tales of this extraordinary event, drawing people to witness it.

Lu Xiu didn't cry when Xu Qing pierced him with needles, but now, seeing the tombs and gravestones of six 'predecessors', he couldn't control his emotions and knelt on the ground, crying like a child.

Xu Qing didn't comfort him, following the funeral process, a mourner was needed at this moment; if Lu Xiu didn't cry, should he and Xuan Yu cry?

That would be even more difficult than having Xuan Yu cry like a cat mourning a mouse.

Once he had cried enough, Lu Xiu borrowed pen and ink from Xu Qing and wrote a memorial poem.

The candle tears flow cold in the daylight, the pine murmur recalls old grace.

A handful of earth covers all matters, a gentle wind sends traces across realms.

Lu Xiu placed the paper with the poem into the candle flame, setting it alight, then stood up, took the ink box and circled the cemetery as if toasting, scattering the ink everywhere.

"County Magistrate Lu is this..."

"Commoners toast with wine, scholars with ink; only this ink can convey my feelings."

Xu Qing nodded, learning something new; he might use it in the future during a scholar's funeral.

Leaving the cemetery, at the crossroads.

Xu Qing and Lu Xiu clasped hands in farewell.

"Where are you headed, sir? Will there be a chance to meet again?"

"Wandering outside, the world is home; when fate arrives, there will be a chance to meet."

Xu Qing always maintained a distant detachment toward those entering the path of cultivation. Someone like Lu Xiu, who had been through intense ups and downs, was either indifferent to worldly affairs or possessed a stubborn heart, and the latter was Lu Xiu.

The vindictive Lu Xiu might do something unexpected on his way; as long as he didn't expose Xu Qing, Xu Qing considered it as repaying kindness.

There, Xu Qing with Xuan Yu headed towards Hejing, in the direction of Jin Sect, while Lu Xiu went east, intending to visit his hometown one last time.

Each group went their own way, but no one noticed that in the cemetery earlier, all the plum, orchid, chrysanthemum, and other flowers Xu Qing had conjured with the blooming technique had turned pitch black.

Even the pure white lilies and jasmines became black flowers of Xuan Yu's hue!

...

In the Jin Sect teahouse, the elderly storyteller of over fifty years was spinning his old tales once more.

"In our Jingjin territory, hidden talents and extraordinary events are as numerous as fish and shrimp in the Hai River. Today, let's speak of a mystical event involving flowers and plants, whether you believe it or not is up to you, but if you're truly skeptical, just enjoy the story for a laugh!"

"This event took place during the Han Zhang era. The Wenchang Emperor, who governs the written word on earth, was seized by a burst of creative inspiration. While wielding his brush, he accidentally dropped a shiny black ink droplet."

The storyteller deliberately picked up a pen and waved it around.

"Now, speaking of celestial ink, especially that of Wenchang Emperor's, it's unique. If by chance it hits exactly on a certain grass on earth, then that grass becomes extraordinary! It can bloom into a magical flower — Top Scorer Flower."

This flower is entirely black, with dew condensed at the tip of its petals, and under the sunlight, it has a layer of ethereal sheen like ink flowing from a pen.

If someone comes across the blooming flower, they can fixate their eyes on the petals without moving, and eloquent words will tumble out of their mouth.

Even someone impoverished with a hungry belly can instantly come up with a few lines of poetry. If greedier, plucking the flower and swallowing it ensures a complete transformation — a hand that trembles while writing numbers like one, two, three, four will immediately glide like a dragon and snake, painting silver strokes, more potent than any medicine.

According to the ancients, consuming this black flower causes the ink within to surge, writing becomes divine, full of splendid compositions; merely gazing at the flower can cause a surge of literary inspiration.

This object has become a coveted treasure for scholars throughout the ages. But Wenchang's ink droplets are rarer than milk squeezed by an eighty-year-old grandma!

Where did it fall? Who saw it? Nobody knows!"

The storyteller chuckled and scanned the surroundings.

"It's rare to find people who ate the Top Scorer Flower, but it's common enough to see people whose eyes bulge and limbs flail from eating poisonous flowers or plants."

"You Er from the Jin Sect heard rumors and offered gold and silver as a reward across the land, just to obtain a Top Scorer Flower.

You Er had only one son, who was neither adept in literature nor in martial arts, chasing away several private tutors in the process.

And through some strange fortune! On July fifteenth, after the rain had stopped, out in the west outskirts' chaotic graveyard hills, three stalks of ink filament flowers bloomed densely, with a smell of ink emanating from the core.

You Er spent a fortune and had them all plucked, forcing his own child to swallow them whole.

That night, the You residence was ablaze with lights, and the You family child wrote furiously with a pen, lost in a trance, producing a hundred essays before dawn which delighted You Er. Yet, upon examining the papers, he discovered that every character was a chaotic scrawl, incomprehensible gibberish.

What's more strange is that from that day on, the You family child went insane, biting at people, gnawing at paper, and occasionally muttered dreams about wanting to eat the Top Scorer Flower."

"Later, the ancients revealed that the Top Scorer Flower chooses people, and the You family child's mind split from swallowing it without any ink within. Meanwhile, poor scholar Fourth Son of the Li Family glimpsed a solitary ink plum at the cliff's edge, and upon returning home, his thoughts flowed effortlessly into written works. His prose was complete in a single stroke and was later recognized by the governor as the Top Scholar!"

This truly shows that the understanding of writing is innate, forcefully consuming causes madness."

Later, a Top Scorer wrote a passage to caution those seeking rewards without effort, and this passage is still recited today, saying: Ink filament, ink filament, only crossing the literary sprout; the blind bull eats peonies, better to chew on shepherd's purse!"

A tea guest below jokingly said, "Where do these Top Scorer Flowers come from? It's all fooling around, so many worshipers at Wenchang temple, yet in those years no true Top Scorer scholars emerged? Long been in name only! Not mentioning the far ones, you see our Jin Sect poetry gatherings, each writing few humorous verses, just like everyone is a poetry saint. I remember few years ago at Long Village Prince's mansion, that Crown Prince wrote something about flying rain, actually became the head of the year's poetry gathering..."

In the corner of the teahouse, a youth and a young girl were enjoying tea and snacks.

The young girl asked curiously, "Is Wenchang Emperor's ink that potent?"

The youth replied indifferently, "To get the Top Scorer, naturally the ink is useful, but if not, it's like a blind bull chewing peonies, mixing good and bad words all together."

"If you believe this, you might as well believe that drinking a god's bathwater will grant immortality."

"Why would a god need to bathe?"

The young girl frowned, seemingly displeased with the topic of bathing.

"Have you heard the story of the Cowherd and the Weaver Girl?"

The youth recounted the old tale while sipping tea.

The young girl, after listening, opened her eyes wide with excitement, "The Cowherd must have drunk the Weaver Girl's bathwater, thus granting immortality and allowing him to reunite with the Weaver Girl each year!"

"..."

The youth touched the Holy Ruler in his sleeve, feeling an unusual urge to knock it against the young girl's head.