Cheng Qian followed Master Mu Chun.

Mu Chun Zhenren looked emaciated, with a head supported by three thin muscles and a rickety hat on it. He led Cheng Qian with one hand, just like a traveling performer leading his newly recruited follower.

Cheng Qian still has the appearance of a child, but he already has the heart of a teenager.

He walked in silence, but in the end he couldn't help but look back.

He saw his mother carrying a torn backpack on her back, with his little brother sleeping soundly inside. Outside the backpack was his mother's crying, blurry face, and his father stood silently aside with his head down. It was unclear whether he was sighing or feeling guilty. He just refused to look up at him, and stood there like a gray shadow.

Cheng Qian withdrew his gaze without any reluctance. The uncertain road ahead seemed like an endless darkness, and he held his master's skinny hand as if he was holding a lamp that was a family heirloom of the Cheng family - even though it had the shameless prefix of "immortal", it could still only illuminate a few inches of light under his feet, and it looked good but was useless.

There are generally two ways to travel, one is called "traveling" and the other is called "wandering".

Cheng Qian followed his master, not only having to sleep in the open air, but also having to be fed a lot of nonsense and heresies by that old man. He is really not even worthy of the word "wandering".

Speaking of cultivating immortals and seeking the truth, Cheng Qian had also heard of it.

There was once a huge number of people in the world who had wild ideas and wanted to approach the immortals.

During the time of the previous emperor, all the big and small sects in the market were like toads in a river pit after rain. No matter who was Zhang San, Li Si, or Wang Er Mazi, as long as they had many descendants and no shortage of children, they would all flock to use their connections to send their children to some sect to seek immortality and learn some tricks like "breaking rocks with the chest". Other than that, no one really achieved anything.

At that time, there were more people making alchemy than cooking, and more people reciting scriptures than farming. There was even a period of years when no one studied or practiced martial arts seriously, leaving the charlatans who did not do any work to run around everywhere.

It is said that when seeking immortality was at its most popular, a county consisted of no more than a dozen villages, but from the east to the west there were as many as twenty sects of immortal cultivation. One could just buy a half-new copy of a crappy mental method from a peddler, and he would dare to use the banner of immortal cultivation to make money and recruit people.

If these people could really ascend to heaven, I wonder if the South Gate of Heaven could accommodate so many cats and dogs.

Even the mountain bandits who robbed houses would follow suit and change the names of the original "Black Tiger Camp" and "Hungry Wolf Gang" to "Qingfeng Temple" and "Xuanxin Pavilion". They would also come up with some magic tricks such as "taking things from the oil pan" and "opening their mouths to spit fire". Before robbing people, they would perform a lot of noise and frighten passers-by into donating money generously.

The late emperor was a military man, a rough man with a bad temper. He felt that if the people continued to live in such a corrupt manner, the country would be in ruins, so he issued an edict to arrest all the "immortals" of all sizes who were rampant in the countryside, and send them to exile regardless of whether they were real or fake.

This decree, which should have been earth-shattering, had not yet left the palace before all the important officials in the court heard the news. They were so scared that they rolled out of their beds at night and lined up in front of the hall - the lower-ranking officials in front and the higher-ranking officials at the end, preparing to hit themselves against the pillars in front of the hall one by one in an attempt to die in protest, fearing that the emperor would offend the immortal and ruin the country.

The emperor cannot let all the civil and military officials in the court die in battle, and besides, the Panlong Pillar cannot bear it.

The late emperor had no choice but to revoke his order. The next day, he ordered the Imperial Observatory to set up a "Tianyan Office" and let the Grand Historian supervise it directly. He also invited several genuine masters to take charge in a roundabout way. He stipulated that in the future, all immortal sects, big or small, must report to the Tianyan Office for verification. After verification, the iron scroll would be issued and the authorities could recruit disciples. Private sects were prohibited among the people.

Of course, it is basically impossible for a great country to enforce laws and regulations, as it stretches across the nine provinces, thousands of miles from east to west, and no communication between the north and the south. Even one-size-fits-all laws have loopholes, let alone such a frivolous and crappy decree.

The imperial court can’t even eradicate the robbers and kidnappers, so how can it care whether the immortal sects recruit disciples?

The Zhenxian Sect didn't take the old emperor seriously at all. They just did what they were supposed to do. The guilty swindlers in the world restrained themselves a little, but only to a limited extent - it was not impossible to forge iron and copper certificates.

However, the late emperor's efforts were not completely in vain. After several attempts, investigations and rectifications, although the results were minimal, the enthusiasm of the people for cultivating immortals was greatly weakened. In addition, since no one had ever heard of anyone who had achieved anything great in cultivation, as time went on, some people farmed the land, some herded sheep, and stopped daydreaming.

When the current emperor came to the throne, the trend of cultivating immortals was still lingering among the people, but the craze had long passed. The current emperor was well aware that there would be no fish in clear water, so he mostly turned a blind eye to those swindlers who cultivated immortals in the name of cultivation, and the officials would not investigate unless the people reported them.

Cheng Qian had heard the old scholar talk about these causes and consequences once, so in his eyes, the stick that was holding him was just a pure stick...at best, a stick for root canal meal, and there was really nothing worthy of special respect.

The mallet-like wooden stump stroked his trembling mustache and said to himself, "My sect's name is 'Fuyao'. Little thing, do you know what Fuyao means?"

The old scholar hated these things and naturally refused to talk about them. Cheng Qian was enlightened by him and was somewhat influenced by him. Therefore, he was full of disdain, but he still forced himself to pretend to listen attentively.

Mu Chun raised his hand and pointed in front of Cheng Qian. His finger seemed to have some kind of spiritual power. Wherever it went, a gust of wind rose up for no reason, swirling and sweeping the dry grass on the ground straight into the air. The sunken leaves of the dry grass had a sharp line of withered yellow, which was illuminated by a bolt of lightning from the sky, almost blinding Cheng Qian's eyes.

The young boy was stunned by the strange and magical power of this finger.

Mu Chun himself had not expected this sudden change and was stunned for a moment, but when he saw that he had frightened this cold-hearted boy, he withdrew his hand.

He put his skinny hands into his sleeves and said in a leisurely manner, "When Peng migrates to the South Sea, it strikes the water for three thousand miles, soars up to ninety thousand miles, and takes six months to rest. It is formless and unrestrained, and can move around in the wind. When it comes, it is deep, and when it goes, it is boundless. This is 'Fuyao', do you understand?"

Of course Cheng Qian didn't understand. In his little heart, the awe of the unknown power and the disapproval of these unorthodox methods were entangled with each other, and they were inseparable. In the end, with awe of his master's disapproval, he placed the wooden stump in the same position as the broken lamp on the wall of his house and nodded ignorantly.

Mu Chunzhi raised his beard with great pride, and was about to take advantage of this opportunity to show off his ability, but God refused to give him face again. Before he could open his mouth again, his boasting was exposed - after the thunder, a strong wind suddenly came with great force and extinguished the bonfire in front of the master and apprentice to ashes. Then there was a strong wind, and the lightning and thunder raised their voices together, shouting that the weather was not friendly from the west.

Mu Chun no longer cared about playing tricks and shouted, "Oh no! It's going to rain heavily."

After saying this, he jumped up, picked up the luggage in one hand, picked up Cheng Qian in the other, and then, with his legs as long as reed sticks, he took small steps backwards like a long-necked pheasant and fled in panic.

Unfortunately, the rain came too quickly, and even the long-necked pheasant could not escape the fate of becoming a drowned chicken.

Mu Chun held Cheng Qian in his arms, took off his soaked coat, and covered the little boy in his arms with it. He ran away while shouting, "Oh, it's bad. It's raining so hard. Oh, where can we hide?"

Cheng Qian had used countless animals and birds for transportation throughout his life - but this was probably the bumpiest and most talkative one he had ever ridden.

The sounds of wind, rain, thunder and lightning mixed with the noisy voice of his master. His head was covered with his master's robe, and his eyes were completely dark, but he could smell an indescribable wood fragrance on the sleeves of the robe.

The master held him against his chest with one arm and kept one hand free to protect Cheng Qian's head. The clearly visible bones on the old man's body hurt him, but the embrace and protection were real.

For some reason, even though this long-necked chicken had just shamelessly fooled him, Cheng Qian seemed to have a natural affinity for him.

Cheng Qian, wearing a wooden coat, silently peeked at his master who was soaking wet in the rain through the gap in his clothes. For the first time in his life, he enjoyed the treatment that a child deserved. He savored it for a moment, and willingly accepted his master, and made up his mind - even if this master was full of nonsense and had a lot of unorthodox ideas, he would forgive him.

Cheng Qian rode on a skinny horse and finally arrived at a dilapidated Taoist temple wet.

During the previous emperor's reign, a large-scale "cleansing of the roads" eliminated many illegal sects and also left behind a number of Taoist temples belonging to such sects, which later became places for homeless beggars and travelers who missed their place of stay.

Cheng Qian poked his little head out from the wooden coat, and when he looked up he made eye contact with the immortal worshipped in the Taoist temple. The immortal, who was made of clay, was frightened on the spot - he saw that the immortal had two buns on his head, a round face without a neck, a face full of flesh, and a circle of red cheeks on each cheek, and a bloody mouth below, revealing a mouthful of uneven teeth.

The master naturally saw it too, and hurriedly raised his paw to cover Cheng Qian's eyes, angrily criticizing: "Pink jacket and emerald green robe, ah, you have the nerve to eat offerings here in such obscene attire, it's really outrageous!"

The young Cheng Qian had limited knowledge, so he was confused and a little shocked.

Mu Chun said righteously: "Those who practice Taoism should be pure-hearted and free from desires. They should always be careful about their words and actions. It is inappropriate to dress up like a performer!"

He actually knew what propriety was... Cheng Qian looked at him with a new respect.

At this moment, a faint smell of meat wafted from behind the dilapidated Taoist temple, interrupting the cynicism of the "pure and unselfish" master.

Mu Chun's throat rolled involuntarily, and he could not continue. With a strange look on his face, he led Cheng Qian to the back of the obscene statue, and saw a little beggar who was only one or two years older than Cheng Qian.

The little beggar used some unknown tool to dig a hole in the ground at the back hall of the Taoist temple. A plump beggar's chicken was roasting inside. He cracked the mud shell and a burst of fragrance filled the air.

Mu Chun swallowed again.

If a person becomes too thin, some things will become inconvenient for him. For example, when he is greedy, his thin neck that can be grasped will not easily cover up his instinctive reaction.

Master Mu Chun put Cheng Qian on the ground, and then demonstrated to his little disciple with his own actions what it meant that "those who practice Taoism must always pay attention to their words and actions."

He first wiped the water off his face, put on a smile like an immortal, then took slow, swaying lotus steps and floated to the little beggar. In front of Cheng Qian, he gave a long and eloquent speech, describing an overseas immortal sect where people were dressed in gold and silver, well fed and warmly clothed, which made the little beggar's eyes widen.

Mu Chun warmly coaxed the little beggar with a big head and a small body, "I think you have excellent talent. You may be able to soar to the sky and dive into the abyss in the future. Maybe you will have great fortune. Child, what is your name?"

Cheng Qian felt that this sentence sounded familiar.

Although the little beggar had some cunningness of a wanderer, he was still young after all, and was fooled by his master until he sneezed. He answered blankly, "Xiao Hu, I don't know your last name."

"Then you should take my surname as Han," Mu Chun stroked his goatee and quietly confirmed the master-disciple relationship. "I will give you a big name - Yuan, okay?"

Cheng Qian: “…”

Han Yuan, wronged... It's really auspicious and festive.

The master must have been so hungry that he was confused. Facing the beggar's chicken with burnt skin and thick meat, he spoke without thinking.