Eternal Life: I Can Sell Everything

Song Ciwan stood under the bright sky, facing the patchwork of fields, the scattered houses, and the curling smoke from their chimneys. A passage of text surfaced in her mind unbidden—

The forest ended at the river’s source, and there stood a mountain. In the mountain was a small opening, from which a light seemed to glimmer...

The land was flat and wide, with houses neatly arranged... Paths crisscrossed the fields, and the sounds of chickens and dogs could be heard from one to the next... The old and the young were all content and happy...

’Where is this? Why does everything here seem just as it was described in *The Peach Blossom Spring*?’

It was so peaceful, so joyous, so full of life—truly, a Peach Blossom Spring!

Song Ciwan stepped into this world. Ahead, she heard the cheerful laughter of young people. In the distance, at the foot of the mountains and upon the lake, a fisherman rowed his boat, singing at the top of his lungs, "In the third month of sunny spring, farm work keeps us all so busy! The fish we catch shine like golden scales, and with fair weather, our granaries overflow..."

The song drifted under the bright, clear sky, carried on a gentle spring breeze that seemed to blow away all the world’s anxieties, leaving only infinite peace.

Witnessing this scene, Song Ciwan couldn’t help but smile.

Just then, she saw a group of people approaching from a path to her left.

Leading them was a boy of seven or eight. He walked with a swagger, his hands clasped behind his back, followed by a group of dejected, white-haired old men.

As he walked, the child lectured the old men behind him, his tone pompous and mature beyond his years. "Jade uncarved cannot become a gem; a person uneducated knows not what is right. Do you think I painstakingly teach you your letters day after day to harm you? If it weren’t for your own good, for the hope that you might have a great future, what would I, your teacher, gain from all this effort?"

Some of the old men behind him hung their heads, listening intently to the scolding. Others covered their faces with their sleeves, overcome with shame. A few, however, rolled their eyes and secretly made faces at the child’s back, clearly unconvinced.

The child continued walking with his hands behind his back, but it was as if he had eyes in the back of his head. He suddenly spun around and glared at the one who had made the face, barking, "What? You defy me? Dog, bite him!"

"MEOW—WOOF!"

A nimble figure leaped out from behind the child. It was a massive tabby cat, at least two feet tall.

With a single bound, the tabby shot forward like an arrow loosed from a bow, pouncing on the old man who had made the face.

The old man let out a bloodcurdling scream. "Ah! Teacher, Teacher, spare me! This student knows his error!"

But it was too late. Even as he screamed, the tabby cat had already pinned him firmly to the ground, and in an instant, it opened its mouth and bit off one of his ears!

"Agh! The pain! My ear..." the old man cried out, writhing on the ground. The tabby, however, trotted back to the child’s side in a flash, the ear held in its mouth.

The child’s severe expression softened slightly. He reached out to stroke the cat’s furry head and praised it, "Good dog. This ear is your reward."

"MEOW—WOOF!" the tabby cat cried out, its voice muffled. It happily squatted to one side, its posture and movements just like a dog’s, as it began to chew on the bloody ear, CRUNCH, CRUNCH, swallowing it down.

...

Song Ciwan watched all this from a distance, her mind suddenly shrouded in a disorienting fog.

The gentle breeze still rustled through the fields, and the sun above was still bright and warm, yet the scene before her was so absurd, so twisted, that when the breeze next blew past, Song Ciwan suddenly felt a chill.

’She actually felt cold!’

With her current Cultivation, she should have long reached a state of being immune to heat and cold. But now, under the warm sun, she felt cold... This was clearly not normal.

’Oh, and there was something even more abnormal.’

Song Ciwan discovered that her True Qi Magical Power had suddenly become stagnant in her Dantian and meridians, as if bound by some heavy seal, completely immobile!

Since her True Qi couldn’t be mobilized, other problems followed: her Storage Talisman was useless, and she could no longer contact her Vast Sea Grotto Heaven.

Her Heaven and Earth Scale, however, seemed unaffected. With a mere Thought, Song Ciwan found she could still control it freely.

’So, this place... This wasn’t some Peach Blossom Spring. This was clearly a Deceitful Realm!’

’That’s it. It had to be a special kind of Deceitful Realm.’

Song Ciwan had originally been in the Otherworld. She had come to Wangjiang Mountain to return to the present world through the curtain of light on the mountain.

Logically, even with the Night Parade of Hundred Demons on the fourteenth day of the first lunar month, Song Ciwan in the Otherworld and the strange entities of the present world should never have crossed paths.

But the moment she passed through the wall of trees and entered this Deceitful Realm, it was as if she had stepped from one flipped version of the world into another.

It was hard to say whether the Level of this Deceitful Realm was so high that it connected both the present world and the Otherworld, or if, by passing through the wall of trees, Song Ciwan had actually returned from the Otherworld to the present world—

She stood rooted to the spot, utterly baffled, unable to make sense of her time or place.

Meanwhile, the tabby cat finished eating the ear, and the child resumed his stroll, heading toward the fields where she stood.

The group of white-haired old men behind him scrambled to keep up. Even the one who had lost his ear, who had been writhing in pain on the ground, quickly got back up, clutching his mangled ear as he followed the group.

His expression had become one of miserable reverence; he no longer dared show the slightest hint of dissatisfaction.

Hands clasped behind his back, the child led his procession, sauntering across the narrow dikes. He finally emerged from the vast paddy fields and stopped in front of Song Ciwan.

As he approached, Song Ciwan felt an indescribable chill wash over her. A strange, morbid coldness crept up from the soles of her feet and straight into her heart.

The child tilted his head and looked at Song Ciwan. His voice was childish, but his tone was mature. "Hm? Which family are you from? Why haven’t I seen you before? How old are you? Why aren’t you attending the academy to study?"

His questions held a strange charm, and Song Ciwan opened her mouth to answer. She was, of course, about to give the fabricated background of Xin Mian. According to Song Ciwan’s backstory, Xin Mian was supposed to be twenty-five years old.

But just as the words "twenty-five" were about to leave her lips, a sudden sense of alarm struck her.

In a flash, she saw it. She saw it in the reflection in the child’s eyes!

Reflected in those dark pupils was a miniature image of herself. But it was not the image of a refined and handsome young Cultivator; it was clearly an old man with graying temples!

Song Ciwan froze in shock. She saw the child opposite her frown slightly, a hint of displeasure showing on his face.

He was likely about to scold her for her slow response. As her mind raced, Song Ciwan immediately blurted out, "Answering the teacher, this humble one is fifty-two this year! My... my family met with disaster, and now I’m the only one left. It’s not that I don’t want to study, it’s just that... that my pockets are empty!"

As she finished, Song Ciwan put on a hesitant, ashamed expression.