Unintended Immortality-Chapter 410: Perhaps It’s Karma

Many of the travelers had already curled up on the ground as if they were asleep. Most lay directly on the earth, covering themselves only with a thick coat, a thin blanket, or a light quilt. The open space in the mountain was scattered with small flickering firelights.

Yet, if one looked carefully, they would notice that most of these people still had their eyes open. Every so often, they would lift their heads and scan their surroundings, clearly waiting for the legendary ascension of an immortal, just as the stories of Mount Zunzhe had foretold.

The Daoist had also laid out his woolen felt and sat back down upon it, instantly feeling much more comfortable.

Compared to the other travelers, he had gained a small measure of contentment.

The mountain wind howled through the mist, producing a mournful, wailing sound. Even the fire in front of him flickered dimly for a moment.

The fire pit held two pots, one large and one small—both essential for traveling the world. The large pot wasn’t particularly big, and the small one was downright tiny, barely larger than a bowl, making it look quite adorable.

The little girl, her face solemn, carefully removed them from the fire.

The large pot contained a thick mushroom and meat porridge. The rice had been brought along in their supplies, while the mushrooms had been foraged from the mountain during her firewood search—carefully selected to ensure none were poisonous.

After cleaning them, Lady Calico had effortlessly torn them into thin strips, just like the dried meat, before tossing everything into the boiling pot along with the rice. What had started as a chaotic mix had now transformed into a fragrant and appetizing dish.

The small pot, however, was Lady Calico’s personal cooking vessel—one that Song You had specially prepared for her upon discovering her extraordinary culinary talents.

Tonight, it simmered with a rich wild mushroom and mountain rat soup—a potent tonic.

Lady Calico carried out her tasks with meticulous precision, always prioritizing the care of her Daoist. First, she picked up his bowl, filled it generously with the steaming mushroom and meat porridge, added a pair of chopsticks, and placed it before him.

“Eat.”

“Thank you, Lady Calico.”

“You're welcome!”

The little girl turned around with a serious expression, took her personal bowl, and filled it with the wild mushroom soup for herself.

“Do you want some?” she asked.

“No, thank you.”

“Aren't you usually very fond of mushroom soup?”

“As long as you enjoy it, that’s enough.”

“Fine, suit yourself.”

Then, as if remembering something, Song You murmured, “Strange...”

“Hmm?”

“I don’t know why, but every time I eat porridge or rice cooked by you, even though the rice is the same and the ingredients are no different, it always seems to taste better.” The Daoist savored the porridge carefully, furrowing his brows in thought. He asked with genuine curiosity, “Do you have some special technique?”

“Huh? Huh! A technique?!”

Lady Calico was momentarily stunned by his question, but deep down, she was utterly delighted. For a moment, she didn’t know how to respond and could only frantically search her mind—What exactly was she doing better?

After all, she had learned everything by watching him, following his methods exactly, not deviating in the slightest.

“It’s nothing special, just that your porridge always turns out neither too thick nor too thin, just the right consistency. And the rice—each grain is distinct, neither too dry nor too hard, cooked to absolute perfection.”

The little girl, holding her bowl of soup, stood frozen in place. Wisps of steam curled up from the bowl, bending with the wind. Meanwhile, she was deep in thought, glancing sideways at the Daoist. Seeing him drink his porridge with satisfaction filled her with a sense of pride, but at the same time, she racked her brain trying to figure out why.

Then—

“It’s the water!”

After all, Lady Calico was clever. This small mystery couldn’t stump her for long.

“I use different water!”

“Water?” The Daoist looked at her with interest.

“Yes!” The little girl nodded firmly. “And salt! And other things too!”

“Oh?” Song You blinked. “So you’re quite particular about your ingredients!”

“Of course!”

“Then, if I may ask, what kind of water do you use for cooking? How much rice and how much water for each meal? How much salt do you add? And what other special tricks do you have?” Song You asked with growing curiosity. “Although my cooking skills surpass yours in most areas, when it comes to making rice, I can’t match you. If you share your secret with me, I’ll be able to make rice just as delicious. Then, the one thing I fall short in will finally be evened out.”

“Hmm... that won’t do!”

“Why not?”

“Hmm... I can’t explain it.”

“Then what should I do?” Song You furrowed his brows. “If I want to eat rice this delicious in the future, but I don’t know how to cook it, what am I supposed to do?”

“I will cook for you!”

“How can that be?”

“Of course it can.”

“Once or twice is fine, but I can’t have you cooking for me every time.”

“You can.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Won’t it tire you out, Lady Calico?”

“It won’t!”

“Then... I have no choice but to thank you, Lady Calico.”

“You’re welcome!”

Song You shook his head, feeling helpless yet amused. He lowered his head, blew on his steaming bowl of porridge, and took another sip.

On this cold mountain night, enjoying a hot bowl of porridge—without having to lift a finger to cook it—was truly a luxury.

After finishing one bowl, Lady Calico was about to serve him another.

But this moment of comfort came to an abrupt end—

Lady Calico used separate pots to cook for him and for herself, yet Song You saw her using the same spoon to scoop porridge for him, then to ladle soup for herself. The spoon had been sitting in the soup, and now she was using it again to scoop his food.

“Lady Calico...”

“What?” The little girl looked at him in confusion.

“...” Song You said nothing.

A sudden memory flashed in his mind—during their year in Mount Ye, Fengzhou, Lady Calico had often cooked and delivered meals to him...

Could this be karma?

***

Tonight, clouds drifted across the sky, obscuring most of the stars.

The young official kept his promise—he guarded the secret and remained awake, just as the Daoist had advised.

However, he couldn’t guarantee that if he fell asleep, he would wake up on time at dawn. So he dared not sleep at all. In the first half of the night, he drank and sang with travelers from Yaozhou, Langzhou, and even other distant regions.

As the night deepened and the others gradually fell silent, he sought out those who were still awake and engaged in long conversations. When drowsiness crept in, he paced back and forth on the mountain’s flat terrain, pressing his nails into his skin to keep himself alert.

Legends spoke of people who had witnessed immortals ascending to the heavens in the dead of night. As he wandered the mountain, he noticed that many others were also forcing themselves to stay awake—likely for the same reason as him.

If not that, then they were simply waiting for the sunrise.

The young official really did go back to find the Daoist surnamed Song and successfully obtained a bowl of hot porridge.

By the time he arrived, however, Daoist Song had already finished eating and was seated cross-legged on the ground, eyes closed in meditation. The little attendant, on the other hand, was still awake and generously ladled him a full bowl of porridge.

He had expected it to be plain rice porridge, but to his surprise, it was rich with minced dried meat and wild mushrooms. The salty, umami flavor of the meat combined with the fragrant, earthy taste of the mushrooms, seasoned only with a pinch of salt, made for a dish of remarkable delicacy.

Not just by mountain standards—even in the bustling counties below, or in the dreamlike splendor of Yangdu, such a wild mountain delicacy would still be a rare treat.

This great master truly knew how to enjoy life.

And this little attendant—she was not only skillful but also remarkably generous. After he finished the porridge, she even shared her own pot of wild mushroom and meat soup with him. The taste was just as exquisite.

Keeping himself occupied with various distractions, he finally managed to endure until the moment just before dawn.

This was the closest time to waking and the closest time to dreaming.

The time when people slept the deepest—and when those who were still awake were most prone to drowsiness.

Many travelers had stayed up all night, waiting for the legendary ascension of an immortal. Yet, having heard no movement whatsoever, disappointment set in, and one by one, they succumbed to exhaustion and fell asleep. The number of those still holding on dwindled.

But the young official clenched his teeth and forced himself to stay awake.

A faint streak of pale light was beginning to show on the horizon. The moon still hung high in the sky, but it was veiled by drifting clouds, its true form obscured. Only a soft, hazy glow filtered through, as if shining behind a glass lantern.

Then, all of a sudden, a gentle breeze swept through—

“Whoosh...”

Sleepiness crashed over him like a wave.

At the same time, several others who had been lying on the ground but still awake suddenly collapsed into deep sleep. Even a few young officials who had been whispering complaints about waiting all night in vain fell silent.

Only Wei, the young official, remained struggling against the drowsiness. His teeth were clenched so tightly he was on the verge of breaking them.

“Something's not right!”

The young official forcefully shook his head, sensing that something was off. In that instant, he recalled Daoist Song’s words—

“Before an immortal ascends to the heavens, all mortals will fall asleep... Collect the fresh dew formed on the tips of the grass...”

Fighting the overwhelming drowsiness, he barely managed to keep himself from collapsing. With great effort, he crawled toward a patch of wild grass.

Under the dim glow of the moon, he spotted tiny beads of moisture clinging to the tips of the grass.

Without hesitation, he opened his mouth and pressed his lips to a blade of grass, drinking the dew straight from it.

Thankfully, there was no one around to witness this rather undignified act.

The newly formed dew was icy cold as it entered his mouth, carrying the fresh scent of grass. Upon closer taste, there was even a faint hint of earthiness.

Legends claimed that dew was the food of mountain spirits and ghosts, and even a drink of immortals. Song You had said it would help keep him awake. However, after drinking it, he did not immediately regain full clarity. He was still affected by the mountain’s slumbering wind, though the drowsiness no longer threatened to pull him under completely—it gave him just enough awareness to keep fighting off sleep.

“More...”

The young official didn’t stop to think further. He crawled toward more grass, even reaching out to pluck entire blades, tilting them to let the dew trickle into his mouth.

He had no idea how much he had consumed, and he had no sense of how much time had passed.

Perhaps it truly worked, or perhaps he was simply too focused on gathering dew to notice his exhaustion.

By the time he felt a sudden brightness wash over the world, the mountain wind had long since died down.

Startled, he rolled over and looked up—

The clouds that had previously shrouded the moon had been swept away, revealing a luminous full moon hanging in the sky. The breaking dawn painted the horizon in soft light, illuminating everything.

The towering Mount Zunzhe, shaped like an elderly sage, stood clearly before him. The distant mountain ranges stretched endlessly, every ridge and valley now visible in the morning glow.

Then, another wisp of cloud was swept aside by the wind.

And suddenly—

It was as if the gates of heaven had opened.

In the sky, a magnificent heavenly gate had truly appeared—grand and ornate, radiating divine brilliance. Beyond the gate, pavilions and towers stretched endlessly, their architecture imbued with an ancient elegance. Mist swirled around them, veiling and unveiling their forms like an ethereal palace of the heavens.

Somewhere, music began to play. At first, it was distant and elusive, barely perceptible, like a melody carried by the wind. But the more he focused on it, the clearer and more enchanting it became.

“Celestial music...”

The young official stared blankly at the sky, whispering under his breath. His eyes widened, unblinking.

At the entrance of the heavenly gate, figures appeared.

There were celestial officials, as well as heavenly soldiers and generals.

Some of them even seemed to be looking downward.

The young official quickly lifted the hem of his robe to cover his face, leaving only a small slit to peer through as he cautiously glanced up at the celestial spectacle—and then at the ground around him.

Below, someone had risen.

They were about to ascend to immortality.