“My son has done well. He’s an Immortal! I will go burn some incense in the ancestral hall. This matter has brought glory to our family and ancestors.”
Meng Hao left Yunkai County. It was afternoon now, and his robe rippled in the autumn wind. The mountain wind grew stronger and stronger as he approached Mount Daqing.
He stood on the same place on the mountaintop where he had stood in a daze three years before. Emotion filled his face. Three years had passed so quickly. His face was no longer young and naive. He had matured, but Mount Daqing was the same as always. It would never change, nor would the great river which flowed ceaselessly beneath it.
Looking down at the river, Meng Hao thought of the gourd bottle he had thrown into it that year. He thought about how he had encountered Elder Sister Xu, Fatty, Wang Youcai and Little Tiger.
Silently, he leaped into the air and onto a flying sword. He flew down the mountain to the fissure in the cliff. He entered.
It was exactly the same as it had been before. Meng Hao stood inside, looking around. That year, Elder Sister Xu had been at the seventh level of Qi Condensation. And now, he was a Cultivator of the seventh level. It was as if the three years had been a giant circle, with this as the starting point, and the ending point.
“But if the three years really were a circle, then perhaps returning here means that I’ve reached a new starting point…. It’s like the sages said, if you don’t take a first step, you will never know which direction the road leads.” He closed his eyes for a while, then opened them.