Chapter 767 - 548 Familiar Words
Prince Xin was taken aback by the fox girl’s words.
Indeed.
Without this princely status, he wouldn’t even have the qualification to seek Immortal Cultivation, let alone the ability to host a banquet at Yaoxing Tower.
"My lord, if you wish for immortality, there has always been only one path, which is to become an Incense Fire God."
At this moment, a disheveled middle-aged Daoist stroked his beard and said, "The spirit monsters of the world all tread this path. Even this fox girl with centuries of cultivation will eventually turn to dust unless she establishes a temple and enjoys incense offerings to remain eternal."
"Is that also what the Daoist thinks?" Prince Xin came to his senses, somewhat surprised. "Isn’t Cultivation supposed to grant immortality?"
The Daoist smiled and said, "We cultivators travel the world, helping others for what purpose? It is said for accumulating virtue, but in truth, it’s to gather the incense of thousands of households. Only with enough virtue can one have mana in their body. People draw upon Earth Qi to practice some arts, living for one or two hundred years, but immortality remains elusive. I personally witnessed my master pass away in a Daoist Temple at the age of two hundred and seventy-one."
Prince Xin shook his head and said, "I am not willing to abandon my body to become a clay or wooden statue, and the incense offering is uncertain. If it declines one day, won’t the soul scatter all the same?"
"Your Highness holds a noble status. Becoming an Incense Fire God may be easier, and when nation prospers, even with mighty ones destroying mountains and temples, it wouldn’t affect Your Highness," the Daoist said.
Prince Xin gave a self-deprecating smile, "With a new emperor comes new ministers. Who will recognize me as Prince Xin a hundred years from now? Haven’t less Prince and ministers been eradicated by the court along with their temples? Some temples don’t even last fifty years before they’re demolished, because there are only so many incense offerings in the world, always with people waiting behind."
"In less favorable terms, if I could be a god for sixty years after death, it would be a stroke of luck."