"Alright, that’s enough," Bai Zhou said, embarrassed.

"Alright." Mo Ling felt a little awkward too.

He suddenly realized he had no idea how to achieve eternal life. All his understanding was based on shallow speculation from observing the Fishmen’s behavior.

’No wonder that mist completely ignored me.’

Thinking of this, Mo Ling grew even more confused. He asked Bai Zhou, "Can that mist tell whether or not I can achieve eternal life? Is it alive?"

"It’s not about distinguishing; it’s about mutual attraction. The closer you get to eternal life, the closer death gets to you," Bai Zhou explained. "If you step on the shore, water will seep up from the mud and soak your boots. It’s unavoidable."

As he spoke, Bai Zhou looked at Mo Ling. "You’re the type to stand motionlessly in the distance, watching everyone else’s movements with perfect clarity, yet you have no idea how to get to the shore yourself."

Hearing Bai Zhou’s vivid analogy, Mo Ling had an epiphany.

’I never thought that "completely not getting it" could actually be a good thing.’

’But how does Bai Zhou know so much?’

Mo Ling looked at Bai Zhou, puzzled. Before, the parts on the back of Bai Zhou’s neck had caused him to periodically clench his jaw in pain, but after Mo Ling’s treatment, his complexion had improved significantly.

After snapping off some damaged parts from his body, Bai Zhou stretched and urged Mo Ling to continue up the small hill.

He seemed to have sensed Mo Ling’s confusion.

"It’s still not safe here. I’ll take you somewhere."

With that, he waved to Mo Ling, then turned and headed up the path.

Mo Ling didn’t hesitate and followed him.

They hadn’t been walking long before Mo Ling realized the mountain’s terrain felt familiar.

’Where have I seen this before?’

As they walked on, they came to a mountain path, and Mo Ling finally recognized it.

It was the mountain used to quarantine the Fake Fishmen!

Only, the mountain path wasn’t reinforced now. It was just a crude dirt track, overgrown with weeds. If you didn’t look closely, you wouldn’t even notice the hidden trail.

"Where is this?" Mo Ling couldn’t help but ask.

"The Chali Race’s Holy Mountain," Bai Zhou replied simply.

He seemed to be incredibly knowledgeable about everything on this island.

"Let’s talk when we get to the top."

The two of them wound their way up the mountain path and soon reached the top of the not-so-tall mountain.

To Mo Ling’s surprise, the only things on the Holy Mountain were an unremarkable patch of flat ground and a small wooden cabin.

Much of the area was desolate, but the ground around the wooden cabin was kept neat and clean, as if someone regularly came to sweep it.

Bai Zhou gazed at the cabin, his expression incredibly complex.

"Please, come in."

Leading Mo Ling, he pushed open the cabin door.

Upon entering the cabin, they were met with a room that looked like a lecture hall. A few small wooden desks sat in the center, and an exquisite long table rested on a platform at the far end of the room.

Bai Zhou walked up to the long table and gently wiped its surface with his finger.

Droplets of moisture from the fog dampened his hand.

"Hah."

Bai Zhou heaved a long sigh, walked around the long table, and sat cross-legged on the platform, then stared blankly at the small desks below.

Mo Ling looked at the empty desks, wondering what Bai Zhou was seeing.

After glancing around, Mo Ling found a small desk and sat down cross-legged as well.

His movement seemed to snap Bai Zhou out of his daze.

After rubbing his eyes, Bai Zhou stared at Mo Ling for a long while before his focus returned.

Mo Ling wiped the small desk in front of him and asked, puzzled, "Is this a lecture hall?"

"Yes."

"Why is there a lecture hall here? And a human one at that?" Mo Ling was very confused.

The wooden cabin, including the architectural style of the lecture hall, was all incredibly familiar to him.

Not only that, but the common household items in the room also seemed to give Mo Ling a glimpse into the life of the person who had lived there.

Bai Zhou’s gaze followed Mo Ling’s around the room. "I had them build it," he said nostalgically. "To give lectures, you need a proper place. You can’t just find a random rock to sit on and start talking. There are rules."

"Them?"

"Yes, my students," Bai Zhou replied softly. "The Chali Race."

Hearing this, Mo Ling had another epiphany.

He looked at the tiny desks, then thought of the burly frames of the Chali Race. It seemed like a completely mismatched setup.

"Did they really accept you as their teacher?" Mo Ling was still skeptical.

"Of course. They all performed the formal ceremony to become my students. They are my acknowledged disciples," Bai Zhou said earnestly.

Seeing how serious Bai Zhou was, Mo Ling felt he couldn’t doubt him any longer.

"You can tell me about it now, right?"

"Alright."

Bai Zhou seemed to know what Mo Ling wanted to ask. He cleared his throat and began his story...

"It all started when I first came to this island."

...

It was just like the story Bai Zhou had told Jeff.

The fisherman—Bai Zhou—had been shipwrecked on the island during a storm and, in a daze, became the teacher of the "Immortals."

At first, Bai Zhou was terrified, thinking the Immortals were testing his spiritual aptitude. But slowly, he realized the island’s inhabitants weren’t Immortals at all, but another race entirely.

A race he had never seen before.

After learning this, Bai Zhou actually felt relieved.

After all, the pressure of being revered by a group of "Immortals" was far greater than that of being taken as a teacher by another race.

Moreover, the Chali Race was very friendly and eager to learn. They hung on Bai Zhou’s every word. Apart from not being human, they possessed every quality a good student should have.

With his boat damaged, Bai Zhou had no choice but to live among the Chali Race.

At first, it was just his one disciple who followed him around eagerly. After learning a great deal from Bai Zhou, this disciple then taught what he had learned to the other members of the Chali Race.

As a result, more and more members of the Chali Race started following Bai Zhou.

To achieve better "teaching results," Bai Zhou had the Chali Race build him a house to serve as both a lecture hall and his own residence.

As an Alchemist who served beside the emperor, Bai Zhou knew a great many things: Alchemy and Medicine Making, observing celestial phenomena, Feng Shui Divination, fishing and farming...

These were the very skills that had secured his position under the emperor. He had a mastery of both theory and practice, and he held nothing back from his eager students.

The fact that they weren’t human wasn’t important to Bai Zhou.

As long as they were willing to learn, he didn’t care what they were.

Bai Zhou held no stubborn prejudices.

Since the Chali Race weren’t human, they often asked very strange questions:

"Teacher, why isn’t this herb working? I feel its effect is very weak."

"Increase the dose. Ten times the amount."

"It’s working, Teacher! It’s taking effect..."

"Teacher, Teacher, how did you catch so many fish? I can’t even catch this many with tree roots."

"Watch closely. I’ll teach you how to make a little treasure..."

...

Bai Zhou continuously adjusted prescriptions originally meant for humans, tailoring them to the unique physiology of the Chali Race and saving many of their lives.

He also taught them how to use various tools, greatly increasing the efficiency of their hunting and fishing.

It was then that he suddenly realized his knowledge wasn’t just for pleasing an emperor—it could genuinely save people.

The so-called "Immortal Pills" could actually extend the lives of the Chali people and help them fend off suffering.

Those "immortal treasures" really could enable the Chali Race to accomplish things they once couldn’t.

’We seek Immortals, we pray for Immortals... is it possible that the Immortals we’ve been seeking all along... are ourselves?’