The Mortal Immortal’s Prophecy

One of the primary plotlines in the original novel revolved around the arduous quest to gather nine formidable jade pendants. Each of these mystical talismans served as a key, unlocking an ancient tomb belonging to an ‘immortal’ and safeguarding the very secrets to achieving immortality. As the narrative had yet to unfold to that pivotal juncture, the enigma of the Nine Pendants remained largely unknown to the world. Otherwise, Su Mo would never have dared to possess even one.

“At the very least, several decades still stretch before us. The future, after all, remains an open book,” Su Mo declared with a confident smile, a gesture that immediately drew Xu Qingzhu’s discerning gaze.

The mountains soared, shrouded in a pervasive mist, yet upon traversing a particular ridge, the landscape abruptly unfurled, revealing a breathtaking vista.

From atop a colossal boulder, a sweeping gaze revealed a boundless sea of clouds, stretching endlessly, seemingly cleaving the world into two distinct realms: one above, one below.

However, in a world imbued with spiritual energy, certain resilient trees possessed an extraordinary will to survive, exclusively thriving on the loftiest mountain peaks.

As they plunged back into the dense forest, Su Mo found herself in a daze, momentarily convinced they were still traversing the mountainside, not nearing the summit.

“Young Master Xu, the sky darkens swiftly. After nightfall, fiends and monsters will roam unchecked. Is it truly wise to linger?” Su Mo voiced her concern, a tremor of apprehension lacing her tone.

Considering the original ‘Su Mo’s’ unfortunate luck, encountering a pack of ravenous, lustful demons would hardly be an unexpected challenge.

Furthermore, in the Little Imperial Uncle’s world, even the more ‘respectable’ monsters were adept practitioners of the ‘yin harvesting’ technique, leaving Su Mo profoundly uneasy and vulnerable.

“Soon,” Xu Qingzhu reiterated, his voice unwavering.

The word had been uttered so frequently that it now felt worn, much like a tired platitude from a superior promising a ‘soon’ that never quite materialized.

Thankfully, she now possessed one of the fabled Nine Pendants. Though, prior to the commencement of that particular plotline, the pendants held no discernible power, and she herself could not identify which specific one she held.

Yet, armed with her foreknowledge, she could venture to specific locations to test her theory, hoping to stumble upon a fortuitous discovery, much like a blind cat finding a dead mouse, and thus seize a pivotal opportunity ahead of others.

Her spirits lifted, and even the simple sight of a tree branch stretching outward seemed to possess an elegant, graceful allure.

“No, something’s amiss. This tree… it feels profoundly alive. What nonsense am I spouting?” Su Mo muttered, rubbing her eyes as she scrutinized the peculiar tree with heightened attention.

At that precise moment, Xu Qingzhu abruptly halted.

His dark eyes, sharp and piercing, held a faint glint of frost as they fixated on the ground beneath the tree trunk.

Moments later, from the very spot he observed, the earth began to churn, and a middle-aged man, clad in a black-green Taoist robe, slowly, bizarrely, crawled out of the soil.

Indeed, he crawled out.

“How on earth could a Taoist priest emerge from the very earth itself?” Su Mo exclaimed, her voice tight with tension.

Without a weapon in hand or any training in martial arts, she, a woman who had navigated life independently for most of her years, felt utterly vulnerable and exposed.

To rely on Xu Qingzhu now felt utterly contradictory, especially when her true intention was to somehow send him *away*!

“Cough, cough, esteemed fellow Taoists, pray, tarry a moment,” the middle-aged priest announced with a genial smile. He then deftly plucked a yellow banner from the muddy ground, shaking off the clinging black soil.

With a practiced flourish, he adjusted his hat, assumed a dignified stance, and unfurled the banner, holding it aloft for all to see.

The banner proclaimed:

“I divine heaven and earth, but most delight in matters of the heart.”

“Spend coin to avert calamity, meet me and dispel all sorrow.”

And emblazoned across the top: “The World’s Foremost Oracle!”

Observing him smile enigmatically, feigning the air of a reclusive sage, the two cultivators had little inclination to humor him.

With a shared, unspoken agreement, they pressed onward, swiftly circling around the Taoist priest and leaving him bewildered, his banner fluttering wildly in the breeze.

“What’s his game, trying to divine *my* fate as well?” Su Mo muttered with a dismissive pout, quickening her steps to keep pace with Young Master Xu.

As transmigrators, they held no fear of fortune-telling; their only concern was that the diviner might inadvertently seal their *own* doom by attempting to read their fates.

Yet the Taoist priest proved relentless, his voice echoing from behind them:

“It is said that to meet is destiny! This old Taoist perceives a definite sign of predestined union between you two, yet it is shadowed by countless sorrows… Hey! Don’t run off!”

Upon hearing the Taoist priest mention a ‘sign of predestined union,’ Su Mo’s eyes widened. She instinctively grabbed Young Master Xu’s arm, hitched up her skirt, and bolted.

What kind of talk was that? Did he even know how to speak politely?

Yet, whether it was sheer stubbornness or some other impulse, the moment Su Mo tugged at him, Xu Qingzhu became utterly rooted to the spot, refusing to budge.

“Why aren’t you moving? Surely you don’t believe this charlatan?” Su Mo demanded, craning her neck to glare up at him.

The old Taoist heard her words with perfect clarity, his beard practically bristling with indignation.

“Of course not,” Xu Qingzhu replied, looking down at her. He reached out a hand to gently pat the top of her head. “I merely wish to observe how he attempts his deception.”

Her neck instinctively retracted, and Su Mo felt an urge to take a step back.

Instead, she watched as he meticulously plucked a fallen leaf from Su Mo’s hair, then, with a flick of his finger, sent it soaring to embed itself precisely into a nearby tree trunk.

Noting the subtle chill in his gaze, Su Mo froze, ceasing all movement.

“Are you moved?”

“I dare not move,” Su Mo replied, meekly lowering her head.

“Cough, cough, esteemed travelers, it is ill-mannered to speak disparagingly of someone behind… or indeed, right in front of their face. This old Taoist is no charlatan,” the priest declared, taking a deep breath before dramatically waving the banner in his hand.

In that instant, a gentle breeze stirred through the forest, coaxing fallen leaves into a disciplined, swirling dance.

The old Taoist offered a confident smile, planted his banner firmly, and behind it, the swirling leaves paused mid-air, coalescing into four distinct characters:

“Absolutely Accurate!”

As the two clearly read the words hovering behind him, the middle-aged Taoist chuckled melodically:

“This old Taoist’s spiritual name is Bai Yunbo. And after ‘Absolutely Accurate,’ there are a few more words…”

He stroked his neatly trimmed small beard, then continued:

“If not accurate, no fee shall be charged.”

“By that logic, you still accept mundane currency? Taoist priest, you are a cultivator, aren’t you?” Su Mo stepped closer, her fingers thoughtfully pinching her chin as she analyzed.

Among cultivators, transactions were almost exclusively conducted using spirit stones as currency.

However, within the mortal realm, there existed a distinct class of cultivators whose practices diverged significantly from the mainstream cultivation methods.

They were known as ‘Mortal Immortals.’

These individuals wandered among the common people, observing the myriad facets of human existence and experiencing the subtle, elusive Great Dao that permeated heaven and earth.

Such ‘Mortal Taoists’ stood apart from the sect cultivators.

Their path demanded they endure a multitude of tribulations within the human world.

Sect cultivators, conversely, typically followed a systematic set of cultivation techniques; with ample talent, they could progress steadily, eventually ascending to the realm of great powers.

“Honestly, one feels like an assembly line, while the other is truly a work of meticulous craftsmanship.” When Su Mo first encountered this particular memory, she had been struck by the realization that Mortal Immortals were the *true* practitioners of cultivation.

They were more than mere individuals who wielded potent forces.

“Heh heh, the Grand Dao of the Mortal World—this old Taoist has caught a glimpse of its essence, and thus I possess considerable confidence in my fortune-telling abilities,” Bai Yunbo declared, his eyes crinkling with a wide, knowing smile.

He essentially acknowledged his identity as a Mortal Taoist, a truly rare and precious existence.

Come to think of it, Su Mo’s own grandfather had also been a Mortal Taoist. He was likely long gone by now, wasn’t he?

Involuntarily, Su Mo found herself somewhat swayed, eager to hear what profound insights he might offer.

“Those who navigate the mortal world witness endless sorrows and gain extraordinary insights,” Xu Qingzhu began, his gaze piercing the Taoist priest with an almost palpable pressure. “Rumor has it that a powerful Mortal Immortal can, with a mere copper coin, broadly depict a mortal’s entire life. Would such an ability extend to cultivators?”

A flicker of alarm crossed the Taoist’s face, and Bai Yunbo instinctively stroked his beard before offering an explanation:

“Fellow Taoist, your words are not false, but as you said, I can only see a mortal’s life, and not completely. If it were a cultivator, it would be like dazzling flowers blurring my vision; I would only get one or two details, so there’s no need to worry.”

“But divining for cultivators comes with immense backlash, does it not?” Xu Qingzhu pressed, his tone sharp.

“Of course,” Bai Yunbo affirmed with a natural nod.

“Then what do you gain?”

Indeed. Unsolicited eagerness often hinted at ulterior motives, be it deceit or theft.

Su Mo narrowed her eyes, suddenly perceiving Bai Yunbo as cunning. After all, her understanding of cultivation was still too limited to grasp the underlying reasons.

At this, Bai Yunbo sighed heavenward, his brows furrowed deeply, as if aging a decade and a half in an instant.

He shook his head, then softly called out to the ancient tree behind him:

“Lian’er, come out.”

Su Mo realized that the tree she had earlier found peculiar now began to shed its bark automatically. Within its hollow trunk, a frail young girl leaned, her face alarmingly pale, her brow darkened, and a swirling aura of Yin energy surrounding her, as if she were afflicted by a malevolent curse or possessed by a ghost.

Yet, her long, lustrous hair was elegantly coiled, with two strands falling gracefully to the sides, resembling a pair of crescent-shaped rings. She presented the image of a delicate, demure village girl.

To any observer, they would appear to be a father and daughter, a fortune-teller and his child, struggling to make a living.

At this moment, the Taoist Bai Yunbo sighed with sorrow:

“My daughter has been possessed by a malevolent spirit, which now erodes her very soul. To perform the ritual of exorcism and ward off evil, I require mortal currency as a spiritual guide. However, this currency comes with stringent demands: its possessor must be a cultivator, and furthermore, they must be a couple… Ah, what a difficult, difficult predicament.”

Su Mo’s gaze dropped, her pupils dilating in shock as she desperately tried to conceal her sudden perturbation.

‘That girl is ‘Su Mo’s’ personal maid, Lian Huan, isn’t she? She doesn’t have a Taoist father…’