Immortal Travel of Longevity

Wind and rain carved a rough path through the forest, yet deeper in the mountains, signs of life dwindled. The further Chen Changsheng pushed inward, the more rugged the trail became, and the wilder the plants grew.

What began as a wide track narrowed to a path barely wide enough for one person. Despite this, it never truly faded away.

Chen Changsheng stopped abruptly.

He looked up, eyes widening with surprise.

Towering cliffs, sharp as swords cutting through the earth, pierced toward the clouds. On the stone face above, monkeys scrambled and leaped—a scene of peril.

“The Shu lands…” he murmured.

For a blurred moment, he thought he recognized the place. But closer inspection proved him wrong. While the rugged peaks of Shu were often studded with spikes driven by climbers, this sheer mountain wall lay bare and daunting.

Yet, one thing stood out starkly.

A thick chain seemed to descend like a snake from the heights. Near its end, a man-made cave opening was visible in the cliff face.

Chen Changsheng stepped closer. Raising his head, he saw the chain coated thick in rust, trailing down from the dizzying summit above.

Only when standing beneath it could one grasp the true horror of this place.

He gave the chain an experimental tug.

Clatter!

The sound rang sharply as flakes of rust pattered down. But danger flared instantly.

Rattle! Clatter! Crack!

Loose stones, jarred loose by the shaking chain, rained from the cliff face.

Chen Changsheng jumped back.

Several fist-sized rocks plummeted to the earth, striking dust clouds from the ground.

He muttered to himself, “Is this truly a passable trail?”

He paused, evaluating the rusty chain. Then, gritting determination, he seized it firmly.

With a powerful leap, he swung himself onto the iron links!

Whoosh-crack!

With a rush of air, his blue robe fluttered as the world flipped past his eyes.

Hands gripping the chain, he hauled himself toward the cave mouth.

The opening was tiny, barely large enough for a man to duck through, scraping his back against the raw rock. Inside, wooden pillars braced the low ceiling. Many logs were rotten and dry, crumbling at a touch. Yet others stood fresh, bright with new peel—one even bore patches of green bark, put in place only weeks before.

Crouching low, he slipped inside the cave.

Light streamed through the opposite end.

They pierced right through the mountain! This path…

Chen Changsheng’s thoughts raced, awed by the sheer effort—and human cost—behind this dark tunnel.

He suddenly spotted a little incense burner placed near his feet, its surfaces layered thick with ash from countless burned-out sticks. On the cave wall nearby, a sacred figure had been carved—a Divine Statue. Beside it, deeply cut characters read: [Tianque Mountain Righteous Mountain Deity].

Facing this shrine, another carefully carved message waited: [Our ancestors spent their strength cleaving stone to pierce these mountains, creating this narrow path to link land beyond and within. You who inherit this road, remember the struggle it demanded. Cherish it. Protect it. Do not let it vanish.]

Fingertips tracing the grooves of each character, Chen Changsheng felt—as if faintly—the countless days behind the words.

His gaze fixed back on the stone-carved face of the Mountain Deity.

Straightening within the cramped space, he spoke clearly, “Righteous Mountain Deity of Tianque Mountain, show yourself. Let us talk.”

The moment the words left his mouth, a small and bowed figure shimmered into being in the cramped cave.

The Tianque Mountain Deity was elderly and frail, a hunched figure wrapped in layers of dusty light. His back was deeply curved, yet strangely, he gave the impression he was never any taller. Contrasted with his shrunken form, the figure’s eyes were unsettling—large, wide open, and distinctly birdlike.

“I humble Yuan Pingshan, Righteous Mountain Deity of Tianque Mountain, bow to the Immortal Elder.”

Chen Changsheng offered a respectful hand salute. Then his gaze sharpened. “Tell me, Honored Deity—was this passage truly carved by mortal hands?”

The old mountain spirit’s voice creaked softly, “Three hundred years past, it was I who gathered folk, led them to scale these cliffs bit by bit… to carve the Zhongshan Path you see here.”

A visible stillness came over Chen Changsheng. He bowed again, deeper this time. “Humbler than words can express—my deepest respect for the feat.”

“Ah, no! Please!”

The old deity’s voice caught, stumbling, “Not worthy of Immortal Elder’s esteem! Immortal Elder asks—this humble deity knows his place, will answer freely and fully!”

For three hundred years, to stand before a living cultivator… awe left his limbs weak.

Chen Changsheng offered a smile to ease the tension. “Elder Yuan need not guard his words so closely. I, Chen Changsheng, am merely curious; our meeting holds no ill purpose.”

A visible breath eased from the old spirit’s form. “Then Immortal Elder asks freely.”

“How long did it take,” Chen Changsheng began, measuring the cavern walls again, “from the first strike of stone to passage complete?”

Yuan thought inward, voice low. “Five years and seven moon cycles before light first broke from wall to wall.”

“How many hands?”

“Undergo God,” Yuan responded, “Thirty-two lives at start. Dead… thirteen.”

Chen Changsheng froze. “Only… thirty-two.”

Eyes closing in silent pain, he opened them full of hard understanding. “A struggle of willpower then.”

“Once, we took shifts hauling hemp ropes loaded with chisels and rock,” Yuan murmured. “Had hard chains such as hang today bound stone layers easily, far fewer would have fallen.”

“An epoch-defining courage,” Chen Changsheng said quietly. “You and your 31 brothers forged an empire-shaping legacy.” Contrast sharpened his voice: “As a cultivator, stepping onto shifting air feels natural. Yet here—hands clasped to iron laid across rock—my heart trembles. Human spirit truly knows no limits. Benefiting generations for centuries? This feat deserves tales sung everlastingly!”

Yuan recoiled mentally. “Immortal Elder overspeaks! Such legend-shaping honors: this humble deity, nor the thirty-two who toiled, ever think claimed! We simply did a labor that must be done.”

A soft laugh escaped Chen Changsheng. “On scorched cliff trails beyond Yellow River where nails pierce vertical stone and beams nerve against gaping drops, thousands shoulder packs dig but tiny paths. Thirty-two burrowing through rock to let mountains kneel? Conviction unparalleled. Honored Yuan, accept truth.”

Yuan Pingshan lowered his head, wisps of light trembling around his bowed form. “Then… on behalf of them all… this humble deity thanks the Immortal Elder.”

Chen Changsheng turned to the narrow walls trapped beneath uncertain rock. “Recently—travelers here… still many?”

“Well…”

Regret crept into the old spirit’s tone: “Few.”

“Once, this path offered the shortest route west. Now… crossing Everview Mountain, its rock cleft sixty years ago, mere miles distant? Those afraid of heights carry burden lighter with wider paths.” Yuan seemed almost to smile. “This crack invites missteps tumbling endlessly down. With Everview’s level trail carefully laid? Blessings for limbs unsteady.”

Chen Changsheng pressed gently, “Yet here: pillars of young wood, incense newly burnt?”

“Carvers’ descendants guard the vow,” Yuan said feelingly, tracing a rotting rafter overhead. “They find time to make this climb. Repair logs that rot away. Place incense gifts: three slender prayers—a tribute to forebears’ honor.”

“Roots remembered,” Chen Changsheng affirmed. Then measured the deity with unmasked concern: “But trail fading risks god-power fading with it.”

Concern vanished as Yuan simply smiled. “Immortal Elder worries for me? Unneeded blessing. Keep cliff paths open and descendants safe? Those small prayers long spent are blessing enough.”

“Bliss born of shielding life… beautiful.” Admiration warmed the cultivator’s words. “But leaving matters resting ill… runs counter to my path.”

Then unfolding gesture: index finger sweeping space before the narrow cavern shrine.

“Reshape the shrine you raised: place memory clearly lit.”

Light blazed!

Outside: distant rocks shuddered from foundations. Trees deep in the woods snapped without sound.

A streak of golden light tore through air enveloping trunks and pillars whole—a confused moment, whirlwind confined upon itself—then the whole mass arced down, splintering into walls, tapering to finish as window frames. Seconds unfurling: dust clearing revealed structure close to completion—timber beams snapping neatly into shape!

Below the trail, where no temple stood before…

A mountain god temple floated down gently, nestling amidst worn rocks and tangles of thorn. At its center? Stone idols taken from dim cavern landed softly—incense burner a natural altar where light pooled like grateful tears.

The building stood firmly beside the fork where weary travelers climbed ever upward.

“Immortal Elder!” Yuan Pingshan choked, turning in disbelief—only to find the cave beyond empty.

Thick silence filled the cramped space. Until… sudden laughter fell like fresh raindrops—seemingly racing down the sheer mountain walls themselves!

“Blessings rain down: Mountain God Yuan. May your memories rebuilt endure everlastingly!”

The words held celestial force, echoing from rocks, from trees, from drifting air itself. Yuan Pingshan fell utterly to his knees. Tears traced unformed paths down cheeks formed of spirit-smoke and prayer.

“The humble deity… offers heaven-tier thanks!” Humbly, the bowed Mountain Deity placed knock after knock upon unmoving rock ground.