One person: Senior brother Zhang Zhiwei, the Celestial Master begged me to descend the mountain.

spring equinox.

The peach blossoms on Longhu Mountain are in full bloom, covering the entire mountainside.

Compared to previous years, Longhu Mountain was exceptionally bustling this year. From the ticket office at the foot of the mountain all the way to the gate of the Celestial Master's Mansion, the throngs of people resembled a long, colorful dragon.

The air was filled with the distinctive sandalwood scent of burning incense, the smell of tourists' sweat, and the steam rising from roadside vendors selling tofu pudding.

"Hey, have you heard? Just last year, right here on this hill, someone actually saw a deity!"

An older woman wearing a sun hat was fanning herself while spitting as she boasted to her companion about some gossip she had heard from somewhere:

"They say that in the middle of the night, a brilliant golden light shone, illuminating the entire city of Yingtan as if it were daytime! Some people saw a Taoist priest ascending to heaven on a lotus flower!"

"Come on, Aunt Wang, who are you listening to with all this nonsense?" The young man next to her, who was live-streaming on his phone, looked disdainful. "That's a weather phenomenon. Experts have debunked it. They said it's just thunderstorms combined with optical refraction. You're talking nonsense! What era are we living in? We should believe in science."

"Go away, you don't know anything!" The middle-aged woman rolled her eyes. "I heard it from my second nephew, who works as a security guard at the scenic area. The mountain behind was closed that day, and even the special police came..."

The noise rose and fell.

However, a small, inconspicuous stall on a side road leading to the Celestial Master's Mansion was surrounded by a large crowd.

The stall was very simple, just a blue cloth spread on the ground.

On top were a pile of knots made of red rope, and several pieces of yellow paper with crooked drawings that looked like scribbles.

The stall owner was a young woman.

Her long hair was casually draped over her shoulders, and she wore a slightly worn baseball cap pulled low over her head, obscuring most of her face. She was wearing a slightly oversized tracksuit and a pair of canvas shoes splattered with mud.

At this moment, she was sitting cross-legged on a small stool, holding a red rope in her hand, her fingers flying nimbly.

"Young lady, how much is this amulet?" A tourist squatted down, picked up the so-called amulet, examined it, and frowned. "This is too... careless! There's not even a packaging bag?"

The girl raised her head.

It was a clean-washed face, the skin so white it was almost dazzling. Those large, bright eyes, clear and bright, held an inexplicable air of naivety.

It was Feng Baobao.

"May you be safe and sound."

Feng Baobao's voice wasn't loud, and it carried a strong Sichuan accent, yet it sounded exceptionally crisp and clear.

"Nine dollars and ninety cents, no bargaining."

"Nine dollars and ninety cents?" the tourist exclaimed. "That's incredibly cheap! I've seen consecrated items in the main hall cost several hundred dollars. Is yours really effective?"

Feng Baobao stopped what she was doing, her serious gaze fixed intently on the tourist:

"spirit."

She pointed to the sky above, her tone resolute:

"With someone watching from heaven, who would dare disobey?"

The tourists were taken aback by her inexplicable aura and didn't dare to respond.

"Okay, okay, give me one." The tourist took out his phone and scanned the QR code. "These days, business people are all so unique."

"Payment received via WeChat, 9.9 yuan."

Hearing the announcement from the loudspeaker, Feng Baobao's lips curled up slightly, revealing a somewhat stiff but genuine smile.

She took out a small notebook from her backpack and carefully wrote something down.

If you don't look closely, it's hard to notice the words "The Road to Wealth" scrawled on the cover of that notebook.

And under the shade of trees not far away.

A young man in a sharp suit, with his hair neatly combed, stood with his hands in his pockets, quietly watching the scene unfold.

Zhang Chulan.

A year has passed.

The shameless man who used to run away from problems and spout nonsense now possesses a calm and composed demeanor. It's the aura that only those who have long held positions of power can cultivate.

The newly appointed director of Nadutong.

This identity, in the world of supernatural beings, carries immense weight; even a stomp of one's foot can send shivers down one's spine.

"Hey, Mr. Zhang, what are you looking at so intently?"

A slightly teasing voice came from behind.

Xu San pushed up his glasses and held two bottles of mineral water in his hand. Next to him was Xu Si, who had a stubble beard and a cigarette in his mouth.

"Fourth Brother, Third Brother."

Zhang Chulan turned around, his serious expression instantly vanishing, replaced by that familiar playful grin:

"We're on an incognito visit, so please don't call us Chairman Zhang. It would be embarrassing if someone heard us."

"Come on, you." Xu Si threw his cigarette butt on the ground and stomped it out, then handed Zhang Chulan a bottle of water and gestured with his chin towards Feng Baobao:

"How about it? Our Bao'er is getting better and better at business. Last month, she actually made over two thousand just from selling these broken ropes."

"Good."

Zhang Chulan unscrewed the bottle cap, took a sip, and his gaze returned to the busy figure, his eyes softening slightly.

"Before he passed away, my master instructed me to make sure she lived like a human being."

"Before, all she did was bury people and space out. Now she knows how to make money, how to bargain, and she even keeps accounts..."

Zhang Chulan paused, then chuckled softly:

"This is what it means to be human."

"Yes," Xu San sighed, "the world of supernatural beings is finally starting to look like a normal place."

During this year.

Without the allure of the Eight Extraordinary Skills, without the troublemaking of the Quanxing Sect, and without the intrigues and power struggles hidden in the shadows.

Although there were still some minor conflicts between the various sects, the kind of major chaos that led to the annihilation of entire sects and bloodshed never happened again.

Everyone seemed to have reached some kind of tacit understanding.

The Heavenly Dao that had been hanging overhead was now complete.

The restlessness that accompanied the extraordinary person's cultivation disappeared.

"Let's go."

Xu Si patted Zhang Chulan on the shoulder:

"It's a rare vacation, don't just sit here reminiscing. Go visit the old man in the back hill and grab a meal while you're at it."

The three of them walked through the bustling crowd and along a small path known only to insiders, heading towards the back of the mountain.

The further you go in, the fewer voices you hear.

After passing through several mountain peaks and a dense bamboo forest, the noisy world seemed to be completely shut out.

The only sounds here are the rustling of bamboo leaves in the wind and the occasional chirping of birds.

A slightly dilapidated courtyard stands quietly in the mountain valley.

The courtyard gate was ajar.

"Squeak—"

Zhang Chulan pushed open the door.

The yard was clean and free of weeds, with only a few old peach trees in full bloom. Pink and white petals covered the ground like a thin carpet.

A tall, elderly Taoist priest, dressed in a gray robe, was slowly sweeping fallen leaves from the ground with a large, bristly broom.

His movements were slow.

One moment, one moment.

It was as if they weren't sweeping fallen leaves, but rather the long years themselves.

Hearing the door open, the old Taoist priest didn't turn around, remaining focused on the ground beneath his feet.

"You're here?"

His voice was old, yet it still carried a strong energy.

"Grand Tutor!"

Zhang Chulan quickly stepped forward, wanting to take the broom from the old master's hand:

"Why are you doing the work yourself again? Where are those young Taoist priests? Didn't Uncle Lingyu assign them anyone for you?"

"Go! Go! Go."

Zhang Zhiwei sidestepped Zhang Chulan's hand, a hint of disdain flashing in his seemingly cloudy old eyes:

"I'm not that useless yet. I'm just sweeping the floor to stretch my muscles."

As he spoke, he straightened up, leaned the broom against the wall, and glanced at the three of them before finally settling on Zhang Chulan's sharp suit.

"Dressed up to look respectable."

The old celestial master snorted and turned to walk towards the stone table in the middle of the courtyard:

"Looks like the food at Na Du Tong is pretty good; his face has gotten rounder."

"Hehe, this is all thanks to you." Zhang Chulan scratched his head, not angry at all, and skillfully brought out a few small stools from the house and arranged them around the stone table.

Beside the stone table.

There is also a rattan chair.

It was a very old rattan chair, the armrests were worn smooth and shiny.

It sat there quietly, facing the courtyard gate, facing the peach blossoms covering the mountain, and facing the azure sky above.

The rattan chair was empty.

Only a few pink petals gently landed on it.

Xu San and Xu Si exchanged a glance but did not speak. They simply sat down silently at the stone table.

The atmosphere became somewhat quiet for a moment.

This quietness wasn't awkward; instead, it carried a gentle warmth and a sense of nostalgia.

It's like a gathering of old friends. Although the person who loves excitement and teases others the most didn't come, his place was always reserved.

Zhang Chulan did not sit down.

He placed the briefcase he had been carrying on the stone table and unzipped it.

He pulled out a red aluminum can from it.

It was a can of Coke.

It was still chilled, with fine water droplets clinging to the jar.

"laugh--"

A crisp ringing sound echoed clearly in the quiet courtyard.

White mist rose up, accompanied by the hissing sound characteristic of carbonated drinks.

Zhang Chulan held the cola in both hands and carefully placed it on the stone table next to the empty rattan chair.

The position is very correct.

It's like... the person in the wicker chair can just reach out and touch it.

call--

A spring breeze suddenly blew in from outside the courtyard wall.

The wind whipped up the petals on the ground, swirling them around in the yard.

The empty rattan chair swayed slightly in the wind, making a soft creaking sound.

It was as if someone had just lain down, stretched comfortably, picked up the can of Coke, and raised their glass to the people present.

The old master Zhang Zhiwei narrowed his eyes.

He looked at the swaying wicker chair, at the can of Coke still bubbling, and a smile slowly bloomed on his wrinkled old face.

He reached out and stroked the beard on his chin, then looked up at the cloudless sky.

That gaze seemed to pierce through the atmosphere, through the long-closed gates of heaven, and see that figure still alive and kicking in another world, most likely giving the middle finger to some great god.

"Junior brother..."

The old master's voice was very soft, so soft it seemed to melt away in the spring breeze:

"Peace has been restored to this world."

There was no more intrigue or backstabbing.

There was no more bloodshed.

Those who once fought tooth and nail for the Eight Extraordinary Skills are now mostly worrying about mortgages, car loans, or their children's final exams.

This is the kind of everyday life you've been looking for.

This is what you got in return for all your cultivation... a boring but peaceful life.

Zhang Chulan stood to the side.

He looked at the old master's full head of white hair, at Xu San and Xu Si's relaxed expressions, and then turned to look outside the courtyard.

Faintly, one could still hear the noise of tourists coming from the mountain in the distance, and that familiar Sichuan accent shouting "Scan to pay".

Sunlight filtered through the leaves, casting dappled patterns on the stone table.

Zhang Chulan took a deep breath of the air, which was filled with the fragrance of earth.

He slowly raised his head, revealing an extremely bright smile.

That smile held an unprecedented sense of relief, as well as boundless anticipation for the future.

He spoke softly to the empty wicker chair and to the vibrant spring scenery of the garden:

"Grandmaster Uncle."

"Good luck to the world."

(End of the book)