Unintended Immortality-Chapter 391: The Heavenly Dao and the Fox Demon

In the many years since he had descended, Song You’s Daoist arts had improved, his cultivation had advanced, and his understanding of the so-called “Heavenly Dao” had deepened. Time and again, whether while climbing a mountain, meditating in practice, or caught in moments of fleeting clarity, he had inadvertently brushed against what people referred to as the Heavenly Dao—a concept often discussed among cultivators.

“Heavenly Dao’s revelations...”

From what Song You had perceived, the Heavenly Dao was devoid of emotion.

Not only was it emotionless, but it was also not some entity detached from the mortal world or transcendent of heaven and earth. To imagine it as a deity perched atop the heavens, controlling the world, was a grave misunderstanding.

The Heavenly Dao, in Song You’s view, was a creation born from the collective subconscious of the world.

It was the spiritual resonance of the mountains and rivers, the beggar on the streets, the aristocrats and royals, the birds and beasts, the demons, gods, and ghosts—all the living consciousness of the world combined to give rise to it.

You contributed to it, and so did I. It is you, and it is me as well.

In the face of the will of the world, there was no distinction between human, god, demon, or ghost—all were equal.

But why was the world ruled by humanity?

Perhaps it was precisely because of that equality.

In the will of the world, there was no magical power, no divine abilities, no distinctions of good and evil, nor divisions by race. All consciousness flowed equally, merging into one great stream.

Yet the grasses and trees of the world were countless, and most lacked true awareness. The birds and beasts, though abundant, were often too dull to speak of intelligence. Even those who attained enlightenment and transformed their forms, after centuries of cultivation, might not possess the wisdom of an ordinary human.

Human consciousness was both powerful and numerous, and so, naturally, humanity slowly gained the upper hand.

How many of the Hidden Dragon Temple’s generations of successors had realized this truth? Song You didn’t know. But when he did, it overturned much of what he had believed before.

It was often said that the ancient gods and demons disappeared, that immortal beings were no longer immortal, and that this was the decree of destiny.

But was there really a greater god, existing apart from all living beings, who changed the world according to its whims?

Clearly not.

The truth was that the chaos and disorder of that era had plunged all living beings into unimaginable suffering. The creatures of the world could no longer endure the human cultivators who could level mountains and split rivers with a gesture, the gods who demanded human sacrifices at the slightest whim of joy or anger, or the demons and monsters who delighted in slaughtering and consuming humans.

They had grown weary of the oppression and torment inflicted by the so-called immortal beings.

When the majority of living creatures believed it was time for a change, the Heavenly Dao responded, and the world changed.

Hidden Dragon Temple was the legacy of the Earth Sage. And not just anyone could bear the title of Sage.

Unless one resorted to fabrication, no matter how great their divine abilities or how vast their magical power, they could not be called a Sage. This title did not represent strength.

It was often said that Hidden Dragon Temple had enjoyed the favor of the Heavenly Dao, allowing its legacy to survive from ancient times to the present, not only unbroken but retaining the abilities of the ancient great figures with each successive generation.

But was it truly the favor of the “Heavenly Dao”?

Did this privilege and honor really come from some “great divine being” separate from the world’s living creatures?

The truth was, it came from the living beings of this world.

The Earth Sage, through boundless virtue, influenced the world with his thoughts and made tremendous contributions to all living beings and human civilization. The masses recognized that he was unlike other gods, demons, monsters, or so-called immortal beings. And when the Heavenly Dao shifted, it did not stand in his way.

Subsequently, the successors of Hidden Dragon Temple, generation after generation, did not seek immortality. Instead, they dedicated themselves to benefiting all living beings, holding steadfast to their principles. This was why their lineage endured.

The living beings of the world needed someone to walk among them, to act as a guide and protector. Thus, Hidden Dragon Temple produced outstanding individuals in every generation.

It was not the arrangement of any one entity but the collective will of countless beings.

If it were an arrangement, it was not the plan of any single person but the hope and faith of the majority of the world’s creatures.

The so-called “mandate of heaven” was often a phrase used by mortals to console or inspire themselves. But if such a mandate truly existed, it was not because some “great divine being” decreed it so—it was because the collective will of the world demanded it. It was how the world was meant to be.

The underworld was no exception.

When the masses believed there should be an underworld, the world’s will agreed, for it inherently represented all living beings. When the people hoped for the underworld to manifest quickly, the world’s will also sought to hasten its formation. It cared not whether this was spurred by an emperor’s ambition to become a Ghost Emperor or a State Preceptor’s pursuit of immortality. The will of the world was emotionless.

The revelation the State Preceptor received was likely genuine.

For the time being, the State Preceptor hadn’t shared the details of his dream, nor explained how he determined it was a revelation from the Heavenly Dao and not a deceptive vision planted by some other powerful being. However, someone like the State Preceptor would undoubtedly have considered these possibilities. It was likely there were additional details supporting his conclusion—details he chose not to share with Song You.

For now, Song You chose to believe him.

The Heavenly Dao’s revelation was simple: it wished for the underworld to condense as soon as possible. Thus, in the dream, it showed the State Preceptor the natural process of the underworld’s formation without external interference.

Even without collecting the five pieces of spiritual earth or the spring of the four seasons, the underworld would eventually form—just at a slower pace. Similarly, even without the efforts of the State Preceptor or the emperor, the underworld would still have come into being in time. However, since the necessary conditions were already present, human intervention could accelerate the process.

Hastening the formation of the underworld was undoubtedly a good thing.

The involvement of exceptional individuals could help prevent significant chaos.

As for Song You’s earlier question—whether someone sought to use the State Preceptor to refine an elixir of immortality or to incite worldwide turmoil—it was partially rooted in his suspicions about the fox demon.

Though restricted by the Heavenly Dao from reaching the power of nine tails, the fox demon’s extraordinary talent, cunning nature, and years-long plotting to acquire the State Preceptor’s elixir made her a plausible suspect.

The State Preceptor himself had likely suspected her before, particularly after he completed his first batch of pills and the fox came to him. There must have been other evidence that ultimately dispelled his doubts about her. Yet now, as a newly formed ghost, his mind was muddled, or perhaps, like Song You’s own earlier doubts about the State Preceptor, his suspicions had been built upon countless subtle signs—enough to breed mistrust, but not enough to solidify into concrete proof.

Hence, he couldn’t articulate them. Still, his musings offered Song You a reference.

Before he realized it, the commotion outside had subsided.

From the entrance of Mount Ye’s passageway came the sound of footsteps. The footsteps were slow and light.

Song You stopped his thoughts and looked calmly in that direction.

In the dim starlight, a woman dressed in pristine white, without a speck of color on her garments, appeared. Behind her followed a maidservant carrying her qin, both women looking weak and fatigued as they walked slowly forward.

The Daoist remained seated, unmoving.

The woman walked up to him, stopped half a zhang away, and, just like him, sat cross-legged. Her maidservant sat obediently behind her, silent and well-behaved.

The woman extended her hand toward Song You, her five fingers outstretched. Her palm was slender and fair, her fingers delicate and graceful. From her palm emerged two pills.

“These are the Yin-Yang Longevity Pills refined by the State Preceptor. One can extend life by a thousand years. The other is the leftover residue from the refinement process. While its effects are limited, a mortal who consumes it will still gain a longer lifespan. For the dead, as long as their head remains attached to their body, it can revive them. I saved the remnants, molded them into this pill, and am offering both to you.”

The pills floated gently toward Song You.

The fox demon withdrew her hand.

One pill was golden, gleaming brightly as it drifted, emitting divine light and brimming with endless vitality. The other was pitch black. Though far inferior to the golden pill, it still contained an abundance of life energy.

What was truly remarkable, however, was that despite having been refined through cruel and sinister methods—at the cost of countless yin souls—both pills were utterly pure, free from any impurities. They shone with spiritual brilliance, appearing holy and immaculate.

Song You raised his hand and took both pills.

Only then did he lift his gaze to the two women. He spoke calmly, “It seems that the fox demon’s declining reputation in recent years is not entirely baseless.”

“It was all out of necessity,” the woman replied softly, her voice delicate. “The marsh dragons are cold-blooded and ruthless. They kill without regard for bonds, slaughtering my kin and even devouring my grandmother. Such a blood feud cannot be left unresolved. Daoist Master, you must understand—though foxes may be stronger than wild hares or stray cats, we are still weak compared to the marsh dragons. Their size and innate ferocity make defeating them extremely difficult.”

The maidservant behind her remained silent, sitting upright, eyes fixed ahead, not saying a word.

The woman, as before, spoke for them both.

“To have concealed the truth from you was our mistake,” the woman admitted honestly. “However, I can swear that I have never harmed anyone—whether directly or indirectly. Apart from matters related to the marsh dragons, I have not harmed even other demons or ghosts, provided they possess human-like awareness.”

She continued, “We are merely foxes, not humans. If a person acts out of selfishness to harm others, that has nothing to do with us foxes. I believe that even the kindest person, upon seeing two groups of foxes fighting for their own reasons, would at most choose to quietly watch.”

Song You’s heart was calm as he gazed at them steadily. “You are indeed an extraordinary demon.”

“Daoist Master, do you feel that we have wronged you?” the woman asked.

“Why do you ask?”

“...”

The woman raised her head, meeting his eyes. After a moment of silence, she said, “Because my admiration for you is genuine. Everything I said to you in Changjing, except for matters related to Mount Ye, was truthful.”

“We have waited too long for this opportunity. We hid in Changjing for many years. But when it comes to our racial feud, it is impossible for us to abandon it, even for our admiration toward you, Daoist Master.”

The maidservant behind her, unable to remain silent any longer, finally spoke. Though her tone and expression were composed and proper, her voice was crisp and clear.

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“We never deceived you on the State Preceptor’s behalf. At most, we withheld information, avoided answering directly, and allowed you to uncover the truth for yourself. But there were times when even avoiding the question was, in itself, a subtle answer. Daoist Master, ask yourself honestly—didn’t some of your suspicions about the State Preceptor arise from the hints we subtly provided?”

“Indeed,” Song You answered calmly.

It seemed that after Song You had descended the mountain, both the State Preceptor and the fox demon had prepared for him to uncover the truth about Mount Ye.

The State Preceptor brought in the marsh dragons, the white rhinoceros demons, and even the Great Star God of the Heavenly Palace’s War Division—a formidable lineup capable of crushing any fallen demon king in the north.

This force could contend with the ancient great beings. Had an ordinary Hidden Dragon Temple successor, inexperienced in combat and still unpolished after descending the mountain, arrived instead, they might very well have fallen here.

The fox demon, however, made different preparations.

It was hard to say whose scheme was more intricate or whose planning was more meticulous. But the outcome was predetermined by the positions they took, sealing the State Preceptor’s failure.

The fox demon indeed bore no responsibility for human disputes, nor was she obligated to inform Song You. Battles among demons, ghosts, and monsters in the mountains were, at most, observed by humans, rarely interfered with. Moreover, over years of interaction, the foxes had subtly leaked information through words, tone, or silence—sometimes avoiding questions outright, offering Song You hints of suspicion.

This was already an act of good faith. The only person truly wronged in all of this was perhaps the State Preceptor, should Song You seize the pills he had refined.

But alas, the Daoist was still human.

Song You lifted his gaze to meet theirs. “Your presence here now—what is it you seek?”

“...”

The woman had been studying his expression all along. Seeing this, she let out a helpless smile and then, in a tired voice, said, “I came to see you hoping for two things. But now it seems the first, the one I desire most, cannot be attained for the time being. So I will ask for the second.”

“You want the Longevity Pill?”

Song You’s eyes lowered to the pills in his hand.

“Precisely,” the fox demon replied with straightforward honesty, her tone sincere.