“Am I undergoing rebirth? Am I in the cycle of reincarnation?” Shi Hao was stunned. Why was this woman saying such things? Could it be true?
Soon, he recalled how he had earlier dissolved into particles, arriving at the banks of the River of Time, watching as the great river was swallowed by darkness and one prison after another emerged. In the end, he had been absorbed by a whirlpool above the river. Could entering that place mean stepping into reincarnation?
In an instant, countless thoughts flooded Shi Hao’s mind. He was no longer in his original world—had he, in other words, already perished?
Shi Hao silently contemplated his own existence and shook his head. He refused to believe it. He was still himself, unchanged.
The woman was serene, as if she could read his thoughts. “You are no longer in the mortal realm,” she said.
Shi Hao frowned. This statement might be correct—he had indeed departed, transformed into particles, and entered that whirlpool rooted in the River of Time.
If this was rebirth, did it count as such?
“Reincarnation is merely an experience. It does not necessarily mean being reborn into a second life,” the woman said, her long hair cascading over her shoulders, her gaze tranquil.
“Is that so? Then this cycle I’m undergoing isn’t reincarnation but more like a journey. Does that still count?” Shi Hao asked.
“Reincarnation disregards time. There are cycles spanning countless lifetimes, and there are rebirths that last but an instant,” the woman replied.
“Please enlighten me!” Shi Hao spoke solemnly.
“A moment of enlightenment can be considered a cycle,” the woman said calmly, as if stating something utterly ordinary.
According to her, reincarnation was simply an experience—breaking free from one’s original path and embarking on another. That was a cycle.
A sudden epiphany could transform one’s life, as if undergoing a form of reincarnation—a profound awakening.
“Some vanish, entering an ancient realm, experiencing wonders before returning to their original world. That journey, for them, is a cycle.”
Now, Shi Hao had left his original world and arrived here. That, too, could be considered a cycle.
“Even if you lose yourself, discarding a span of time, that too is a cycle,” the woman continued.
“Seven days in a cave, a thousand years in the world”—that, too, was a form of reincarnation.
Shi Hao was dumbfounded. The woman before him had skin like jade, lively eyes, and an ethereal beauty. Her words made him ponder deeply, leaving him silent for a long time.
“Some souls leave their bodies and wander, trapped in dark prisons. By your definition, would that also count as a cycle?” Shi Hao asked.
“It does,” the woman nodded.
“So even that counts…” Shi Hao sat cross-legged on the cushion, gazing down at the stone table.
Some sat in meditation, their spirits wandering the cosmos, unmoving for a century, their minds entwined with the Great Dao. Was that reincarnation?
During enlightenment, one might see demons encroaching, the rise and fall of worlds, the sufferings of life, the temptations of immortality. Were these visions of the mind, or had the soul truly departed, cycling through existence?
For a moment, Shi Hao was stunned, as if petrified.
For mortals, such thoughts might be mere illusions. But for cultivators, enlightenment could span centuries, their spirits roaming the heavens and earth. What they saw might not be false.
Was this reincarnation?
“Is there true life-and-death reincarnation in this world?” Shi Hao asked, adding, “You know what I mean—not momentary enlightenment or lost years, but the cycle of past and future lives as ordinary people speak of it.”
“Stubborn! Few things in this world are absolute; most are relative,” the woman remarked, offering no definitive answer.
Yet, Shi Hao had gained much from their conversation, drawing many insights.
“Is this your understanding of reincarnation?” he asked.
The person before him might be a true immortal. Every word and action carried profound meaning, embodying the truths of heaven and earth. If he could learn from her, his path would broaden and shine brightly.
“I am no longer an immortal, merely a fragmented imprint,” the woman sighed softly, revealing that her knowledge, too, was incomplete.
“Please,” she gestured again for Shi Hao to raise his cup.
On the stone table, the jade cup was simple in design, carved from a natural stone with a hollowed-out cavity—primitive yet elegant.
The liquid within was intoxicatingly fragrant, crystal clear, exuding wisps of immortal qi and shrouded in a mist of chaos, radiating sacredness.
This wine was extraordinary. Merely gazing at it was enough to induce intoxication, as if the aura of the Great Dao was seeping into one’s very being.
“This wine is no ordinary brew. To drink a cup is a true immortal blessing. Thank you,” Shi Hao said, raising his cup.
“Of course it’s extraordinary. Only one pot was ever brewed in those days. It is why I can wait here for descendants like you,” the woman said candidly.
“Ah?” Shi Hao gasped in surprise.
“It was brewed by someone beyond your imagination,” the woman said, then grew momentarily lost in thought. “Why did I say that? Ah, yes—I am but a fragmented imprint, having forgotten much. Who was that person, truly?”
“If I drink this, will my power surge, advancing by leaps and bounds?” Shi Hao asked, his expression complex.
“You overthink. Forced growth harms you. But in truth, one day you will find its benefits far exceed your expectations,” the woman replied.
“Is that so? Thank you. Please!” Shi Hao raised his cup, clinking it against hers with a clear, melodious chime.
At that moment, Shi Hao was astonished. As the cups touched, the liquid within stirred, giving rise to tiny figures leaping forth, weapons materializing, and symbols blooming in profusion.
What was this? All formed from the wine!
The wine seemed alive, resurrecting into blades and swords, transforming into towers, bells, cauldrons, and other weapons, then morphing into battling creatures.
Though mere wine, it had become so vivid—a microcosm of existence.
“Now you see its true value?” the woman smiled.
Shi Hao, puzzled, stared at the cup, then at her.
“Taste it, and you will understand,” she said.
Nodding, Shi Hao took a small sip. Instantly, a black spear surged forth, tinged with blood, flying into his mouth. In that fleeting moment, he heard the roars of three thousand chaos deities chanting scriptures.
Shi Hao was stunned. Upon closer sensing, it truly was the sound of scriptures! The more he savored the wine, the clearer the chants became, leaving him dumbfounded.
How long passed, he couldn’t say. Only when the flavor faded did he stop, the wine now swallowed.
His eyes bright with anticipation, Shi Hao took another sip. A bell emerged, wreathed in chaos and fragments of time, vanishing into his mouth.
Once more, scripture chants resounded, profound and deafening. Shi Hao stood motionless, entranced, savoring the experience.
Again, much time elapsed before the flavor faded, and he awoke.
A third sip brought a golden seed, a marvel of creation, swathed in immortal qi and encircled by stars, entering his mouth.
This time, new scriptures echoed!
Only after a long while did Shi Hao open his eyes. “Are these immortal seeds? The paths and laws of the Immortal Ancient Era?!”
His heart trembled with awe. What unimaginable means had crafted this?
This single cup held so much—countless laws and Daos from the previous era, condensed into wine. It was staggering!
The cup’s contents had barely diminished. Just how many legacies were contained within this immortal brew?
“If you drink it all, you will only replicate the Immortal Ancient methods—meaningless, for we have already proven them failures,” the woman said calmly.
A faint sorrow tinged her words. “We” referred to the mightiest of that bygone era, all buried in the Immortal Ancient epoch.
“Recreating ‘us’ is pointless. Only if you forge a new path will this wine’s true value emerge, allowing you to glimpse and compare. Otherwise, premature revelations will only shackle your mind, limiting your latent potential,” she sighed.
Unfazed, Shi Hao drank deeply, savoring every drop.
Over time, the space around them would occasionally glow, weapons would surge forth, creatures would roar and battle—all vanishing into Shi Hao’s mouth.
This was no ordinary wine. Its significance weighed as heavily as a mountain!
Days passed before Shi Hao finally drained the cup.
“Impressive. Another might have exploded after a single sip. You are remarkable,” the woman praised without reserve.
Shi Hao’s expression shifted dramatically.
He knew this woman’s origins were extraordinary. Her praise was no small matter. By all logic, even a peerless genius would have shattered after a mere taste.
His experience had been a brush with death.
“Drinking this wine is akin to consuming the Immortal Ancient Era, undergoing countless cycles—those laws, those weapons, those beings, all witnessed by you,” the woman mused.
Silent, Shi Hao glanced at the wine pot on the table.
The woman nodded. “You are exceptional. Try moving this pot.”
“What happens if I do?” Shi Hao asked.
“If you can lift it, something monumental will occur—with repercussions beyond measure!” For the first time, the woman spoke with gravity, her demeanor shifting to one of unprecedented solemnity.
Tai Sui Yellow Amulet Paper FuLu Taoist Love Talisman Traditional Chinese Spiritual Charm Attracting Love Protecting Marriage