My words have become law; I truly have no desire to display my divine power before others.

He asked the old man to hand over the painting, not because the old man had nothing better to do, but because he needed to involve the old man in the project.

He handed the painting to the old man, and the old man handed the painting back to him.

They then established a connection.

He owed the old man a favor.

It's not charity, it's not pity, it's human kindness based on equality.

He wanted to protect this village, not because he was kind-hearted, but because he owed the village and the old man a debt.

That senior didn't say anything, but he arranged everything.

Yun Songzi took a deep breath, turned around, and continued walking down the mountain.

His steps were much lighter than when he came; not that his body felt lighter, but that his mind felt lighter.

When he arrived, his heart was filled with the Misty Hidden Sect, the Mountain God Seal, his lifespan, and the fear of death—it was so full that it made it hard for him to breathe.

Those things are still there, but they're not as heavy anymore.

The senior stood quietly in his sea of ​​consciousness, like a lamp, illuminating those things clearly.

Once he saw what they looked like, he was no longer afraid.

As for the Earth God Seal that his predecessor had given him, he could keep it. If any member of the sect were to reach the end of their lifespan, it wouldn't be too late to use it.

Two days later, he returned to the Hidden Mist Sect.

The elders of the church were sitting in the main hall, each with a worried expression.

The eldest elder's surname is Chen, and his name is Chen Shouyi. He is fifty-eight years old this year, one year younger than Yun Songzi, but he looks older than him.

Her hair was completely white, her face was covered with wrinkles, and her eye bags drooped down like two bags filled with water.

He was Yun Songzi's junior brother, and had followed him for forty years without ever arguing with him.

He was sitting in a chair, holding a string of Buddhist prayer beads in his hand. The beads were made of wood and polished to a shine. But he was a spiritual practitioner who did not believe in Buddhism. He held the beads to calm his mind.

The second elder's surname is Sun, and his given name is Sun Buyu. He is fifty-five years old this year, tall and thin, like a bamboo pole.

He's usually a man of few words, but when he does speak, he can leave you speechless.

He was leaning back in his chair, his eyes closed, as if he were asleep, but his fingers were tapping lightly on his knees, one tap after another, without stopping.

The Third Elder's surname is Li, and his name is Li Moyan. He is fifty-two years old, short and stout, with a round face and a smiling face, like a Maitreya Buddha.

He usually has the best temper and never argues with anyone, but at this moment he couldn't smile anymore; the corners of his mouth were turned down, as if someone owed him money.

Several true disciples were still sitting in the main hall, all with their heads down, not daring to speak.

They were all waiting for news from the cult leader. Some time ago, as soon as the cult leader returned, he hurriedly summoned everyone back.

At the time, everyone thought they had found the Mountain God's Seal, and they were very excited.

But what they heard was that the leader wanted to move the Mist Hidden Sect to a small village.

Furthermore, the cult leader does not allow anyone to object to this decision.

Everyone is very worried now. What's wrong with their leader? What is it about this small village that has bewitched their leader, who specializes in cultivating the divine?

A few days ago, the cult leader rushed out again, saying he needed to go back and ask for instructions.

At the time, they were completely baffled. In the outer area of ​​the Ten Thousand Mountains, the Cloud Hidden Sect was second to none.

Whom should I consult?

He's finally back.

When Yun Songzi walked in, everyone stood up.

Chen Shouyi went up to him, looked him up and down, and asked, "Senior brother, are you alright?"

Sun Buyu opened his eyes, glanced at him, and then closed them again.

Li Moyan walked over, grabbed Yun Songzi's sleeve, looked him over from left to right, and only breathed a sigh of relief after confirming that he was not missing any arms or legs.

"What could I possibly have to do with you?" Yun Songzi pulled her sleeve back from his hand and sat down at the head of the table.

He took the scroll out of his sleeve and placed it on the table.

The scroll was tightly rolled up, tied with a red string, and lay quietly on the table, like a sleeping baby.

Everyone's attention was drawn to it. They didn't know what it was, but they could sense that it was unusual.

Chen Shouyi looked at the scroll, then at Yun Songzi, and asked cautiously, "Senior brother, what is this...?"

Yun Songzi did not answer directly.

He picked up the teacup on the table, took a sip. The tea was already cold and very bitter, but he drank it slowly, as if he were savoring something delicious.

He put down his teacup, looked at those people, his gaze shifting from Chen Shouyi's face to Sun Buyu's face, from Sun Buyu to Li Moyan, and from Li Moyan to those true disciples.

"We're moving," he said.

Chen Shouyi was stunned, his mouth agape, forgetting to close it.

Sun Buyu opened his eyes, looked at Yun Songzi, and frowned slightly.

Li Moyan's lips twitched even more; he wanted to laugh, but couldn't.

"Senior brother, are you really moving? Where are you moving to?" Chen Shouyi asked.

"Ginseng Gathering Village".

Sun Buyu spoke, his voice neither loud nor soft, just like his personality—unremarkable.

"Senior brother, tell me the truth, have you really found the Mountain God's Seal? Is it just that it's there and difficult to bring it back?"

Yun Songzi gave him a disgruntled look.

Li Moyan grew anxious and tugged at Yun Songzi's sleeve.

"Senior brother, explain yourself clearly! What exactly happened? Why did you move to the ginseng-gathering village?"

Yun Songzi pulled her sleeve out of his hand, stood up, and walked to the entrance of the hall.

The setting sun shone in through the door, illuminating him and turning his white hair a golden-red hue.

He looked at the sky, which was reddened by the sunset, and spoke with his back to the people in the room.

"A senior came to Caishen Village, the kind of person we'd never meet in our lifetime. I met him this time. He gave me something, which is this painting."

He paused, turned around, and looked at the people in the room. "He told me to bring this painting back."

He even had the elders of the ginseng-gathering village give me the painting. He did it on purpose. He wanted me to owe the ginseng-gathering village a favor.

Chen Shouyi was taken aback: "Favor? What favor?"

"He gave the painting to the clan elder, who then passed it on to me. In this way, I owed the clan elder a favor."

Yun Songzi's voice was calm, as if he were talking about someone else's affairs, "He asked us to protect the ginseng-gathering village."

The lobby fell silent.

Chen Shouyi lowered his head, looking at the string of Buddhist prayer beads in his hand, which was spinning faster than before.

Sun Buyu closed his eyes and tapped his knees faster with his fingers.

Li Moyan stopped laughing. He sat in the chair with his hands on his knees, his fingers intertwined until his knuckles turned white.

They are thinking and weighing the options.

Yun Songzi looked at them without urging them on.

He knew what they were thinking.

The Hidden Mist Sect has been operating in the Hundred Thousand Mountains for two hundred years. Although it is not a major sect, it has its own foundation, its own rules, and its own pride.

Suddenly they say they want to move to a small village and protect that village; anyone would think twice in that situation.

But he also knew that they wouldn't refuse.

Because they also want to live, they also want to break through, and they also want to go to higher and farther places.

Yun Songzi untied the red string from the scroll and slowly unfurled it.

He stood under a jujube tree, dressed in blue and wearing a Taoist robe, with his hands behind his back.

There is no color, only ink, yet everyone can feel the green of the tree, the indifference of the person, and the world hidden in the smile at the corner of their mouth.

The moment the painting was unfurled, the air in the lobby changed.

It wasn't that it got colder, it got heavier, as if something had stepped out of the painting and pressed down on everyone's shoulders.