Unintended Immortality-Chapter 300: Qingtong Forest in Northern Yuezhou

“Look at my little Mountain God!”

“Yes, I see it…”

“Isn’t it amazing?”

“It’s amazing…”

“I also have big wolves! More than a dozen of them!”

“Yes, I see them.”

“Aren’t they awesome?”

“They’re awesome…”

“Do you know any spells?”

“I know a few.”

“Show me!”

Flap, flap, flap...

“So many swallows!”

“This is one of the secret techniques of our swallow clan in Anqing,” the swallow’s voice rang out. “I’ve only just started learning it, so I’m not very good at it yet. But my ancestor was incredible—he could transform into countless swallows.

“Back in the days of the Anqing famine, the ancestor used this very spell to carry rice from the government granary. Each swallow carried just a tiny bit, and in no time, the entire granary was emptied, saving all the people of Anqing.”

“Are the swallows you summon real?”

“No... Don’t eat them!”

“Aw…”

Song You didn’t need to turn around to imagine the scene behind him. He simply continued cooking his meal.

On this desolate mountain with no one around, a fire crackled as he prepared food.

The firewood had been gathered by Lady Calico, the fire lit by her as well. The water had been found and fetched by the swallow. All Song You had to do was cook the meal.

This often gave him a peculiar feeling, as if he had recruited two little demons to serve him.

And these two demons were remarkably low-maintenance. Most of the time, Lady Calico not only found food for herself but also improved his meals. The swallow needed no feeding from him at all; its nimble flights across the skies were usually part of its hunting routine. Even now, in the winter when insects were scarce, the swallow, which had already become a demon, had no trouble sustaining itself.

It really did seem as though they were taking care of him.

“…”

Song You ignored the commotion behind him and focused on the small pot in front of him.

The white mushrooms given by the Third Hall Master of Mount Huangsha were indeed of the finest quality. After soaking in water, they made an excellent broth even without any meat added.

When the soup was ready, he ladled some into a small bowl.

“Ah…”

In the frigid winter of the northern wilderness, a sip of steaming hot mushroom soup warmed him from his throat down to his chest. The flavor was so rich and savory that Song You couldn’t help but show an expression of satisfaction.

After leaving Mount Huangsha, signs of human habitation quickly became scarce. So scarce, in fact, that even after walking dozens of li, only a few households could be seen.

As he traveled farther east from the northwestern part of Yuezhou, the population density continued to decrease.

This wasn’t the desolation of a desert, the Snowy Plains, or grassland—places untouched by human presence. On the contrary, along the roadside, he often saw houses, and even passed through villages and towns.

Yet most of the roadside houses were abandoned and in ruins, while the villages lay empty, overgrown with grass both inside and out. As Song You walked through with his cat and horse, no human voices could be heard.

Weeds grew on the official roads, and roadside tea stalls were in disrepair.

Upon entering the city, if he was lucky, he might see a few people. If not, it looked like an empty city. This was a solitude distinct from the desert, Snowy Plains, or grasslands.

As people retreated from this land, nature swiftly reclaimed it.

There was no one to ask for directions, no roadside stalls to rest at. If he wanted a proper hot meal, he had to cook it himself. Supplies became scarce, and the thought of finding an inn for rest or a teahouse to hear stories became nothing but a dream.

Fortunately, Lady Calico often brought him prey, saving him from consuming too much of his dry rations. The swallow flew up into the sky to scout ahead and search for streams on his behalf, which helped him avoid taking wrong turns or unnecessary detours. Because of this, he no longer needed to ask for directions.

Thanks to them, the Daoist was able to traverse this desolate land.

Climbing a faint trail barely distinguishable from the wild terrain, he struggled to reach the summit of a mountain. After great effort, he finally found the Five-Colored Pool mentioned by Mr. Qiao. He didn’t know how this multicolored pool had formed.

It was far more than just five colors—the cascading, terraced pools were divided into small patches, each with a different hue: pale blue, deep blue, light green, dark green, soft yellow, rich yellow, milk-like white. The colors were vivid and varied.

Nestled deep in the mountains, the pool left Song You wondering how people had discovered it in the first place, how its reputation had spread, and how much time that must have taken.

Beyond his puzzlement, he also felt a sense of regret.

Without coming to this mountaintop thousands of zhang above the ground, without venturing into this remote wilderness a hundred li from the official road, one could never witness the Five-Colored Pool.

Now that Yuezhou was deserted, only a few poems, articles, and the memories of a handful of refugees who had fled Yuezhou still kept its existence alive. Even so, it was incredibly hard to find! By the time the court sent people to repopulate Yuezhou and someone rediscovered it, it would likely take a great deal of time once again.

Many ancient wonders had likely been lost in this same way. As the years passed, they became impossible to find.

Even if they were rediscovered, there might be more than one, and no one would know which one the ancient people had seen.

By now, it was the season of Xiaoxue[1].

Song You sat cross-legged here for two days, wrapped in a fur blanket. He took in the scenery alone, immersing himself in the spiritual resonance of the mountains and water, and in the seasons. Outside, the cold grew sharper, the mountain winds more biting, while the two little demons played freely nearby.

After descending the mountain, he journeyed hundreds of li.

The swallow led him to the Yuelong Waterfall. Though not far from the official road, it would have been nearly impossible to find without guidance or anyone to ask for directions.

The waterfall cascaded in tiers, layer upon layer. It wasn’t particularly tall or large, lacking the grandeur of other waterfalls. But it possessed a rare elegance, like a delicate painting of mountains and rivers.

It was said that in the past, Yuelong Waterfall was the most beloved scenic spot in Yuezhou after Mount Tianzhu. Favored by scholars and poets, its proximity to the official road and the Yuezhou administrative center made it a frequent destination. Streams of visitors came each year, and countless poems and essays were inspired by this place. Now, however, it was Song You’s alone to enjoy.

Drawing water to cook fish, he lingered for a few days until heavy snow arrived.

Snow fell here as well. Waking up one morning, he found ice forming along the riverbanks. Sitting alone in the snow, Song You resembled an old fisherman clad in a straw cape.

The spiritual energy here was abundant, and it aligned well with the season, making it quite beneficial for cultivation.

Brushing off the snow that covered him, he continued his journey north.

Winter was inherently quiet. It seemed as though only the Daoist walking along the road, his jujube-red horse, and Lady Calico trotting beside him remained in this vast world.

The scenery of Yuezhou was indeed beautiful. But his eyes were not fixed solely on the landscape.

Along the roadside, he often came across unburied bones, untouched for more than a decade. The great war of that time had likely felt like the end of the world for many of Yuezhou’s people. Most of the time, Song You would stop to tidy up the remains of these strangers, at least burying them in the earth to spare them from further exposure to the elements. This slowed his progress considerably.

Sometimes, traveling through desolate mountains at night, will-o’-the-wisps[2] lit his path.

Occasionally, he camped by the roadside, where ghosts would come to converse with him. At other times, curious minor demons would transform into human forms to speak with him, thinking he couldn’t tell.

Slowly, he made his way to northern Yuezhou. Here, the mountains and rivers were layered, the spiritual energy dense.

However, the remoteness of the region meant that miasma often shrouded the mountains, causing travelers to lose their way or fall ill. Even the northern frontier people avoided passing through here when heading south.

Tales of phoenixes had long surrounded the area, but few had ever crossed the mountains to reach the fabled Qingtong Forest. It had become akin to the celestial Yunding Mountain—reachable only by those with great determination who could endure the climb to the summit.

This made the swallow especially busy.

Each morning, as soon as he woke, the swallow had to take to the skies to search for the direction of the Qingtong Forest.

He had to be particularly cautious.

In this region, even the swallow’s natural sense of direction seemed to falter. The miasma blanketed the land; flying low restricted his view, while flying high obscured the ground below. It was a constant dilemma. If he accidentally flew into an area where the miasma was especially thick, even with his cultivation skills, just a few breaths left him feeling light-headed and disoriented.

Every day, he worried about flying too far and losing his way back.

The source of this c𝐨ntent is freeweɓnovēl.coɱ.

And each time he returned, he spent a good while searching through the mist-like miasma to locate Song You. Even though the horse wore a bell that jingled as it moved through the mountains, the sound echoed and reverberated between the peaks, making it hard to discern which mountain it came from.

This continued for several days.

As they traveled, Song You began to feel inexplicably restless and burdened with a sense of melancholy. His brows furrowed with worry.

One day, the swallow returned, saying he had found the Qingtong Forest to the north. Towering trees pierced through the clouds in a scene that resembled something from ancient mythology, shrouded by miasma in the mountains.

But he only remembered the general direction. When he tried to find it again the next day, it was gone. It was like searching for a solitary island in the vast ocean.

The swallow grew even more anxious than Song You.

Finally, on the eve of the winter solstice, the Daoist—guided by the swallow—stood before the legendary Qingtong Forest as dusk fell. The Daoist leaned on his bamboo staff, halting his steps as he gazed into the distance. His expression froze in awe.

The miasma swirled through the mountains, blending with the dense mist. Ahead, the Chinese parasol trees gradually emerged, each one towering and perfectly straight. Who knew how many years they had stood there?

Even the smallest of the trees in sight was so massive that ten people could not encircle its trunk with their arms. The lower half of each tree was bare—no branches, no leaves—just smooth, towering trunks of deep green.

As for the branches and leaves, they certainly existed, presumably at the very top. For beneath the trees, the light was distinctly dimmer.

But the branches and leaves could not be seen, as they had long since disappeared into the depths of the clouds and mist.

Each of these truly sky-piercing ancient trees formed a forest that stretched out before them. The sight evoked a feeling that this place marked the very edge of the human world—any step further might lead into the realm of ancient myths.

“Sir! We’ve arrived!” The swallow’s tone was brimming with joy.

“Indeed…” Song You stared in a daze.

His thoughts drifted to Mr. Qiao, who had a passion for landscapes and the art of painting.

The swallow was assisting him, and he had no fear of the miasma. Even so, reaching this point had been arduous. How, then, did Mr. Qiao and countless ordinary people who ventured here manage to make it this far?

“So big… So tall…” Lady Calico craned her neck, her head tilted high as she gazed upward.

Song You's expression was much the same as Lady Calico's.

He had heard tales of trees so large that dozens of people couldn’t encircle them, with branches so sturdy they could bear the weight of a person walking on them. At first, he hadn’t known whether to believe it, but now he was certain it was true.

“How tall do you think they are…?”

“I’m not sure,” the swallow replied. “But I’d guess that the tallest one might not be much shorter than the mountain where we found the Five-Colored Pool.”

“A few hundred zhang…”

If someone told him that a forest like this, which seemed like it shouldn’t exist in the mortal realm, was said to be a place where phoenixes roosted, Song You would believe it.

But even if phoenixes did roost here, they must be above the clouds, far from the human world. Hidden beneath the swirling mist, they would surely be out of sight.

“Meow?” Lady Calico turned her head to look at him.

“Tomorrow is the winter solstice, and it’s already getting dark. Let’s not venture inside tonight. We’ll stay here at the edge and rest for the night,” Song You said, feeling a bit weary.

Glancing again at the mythical giant trees shrouded in mist, he thought that even if they didn’t encounter the legendary divine bird, this journey had already been more than worthwhile.

1. Xiaoxue is the 20th solar term. It begins when the Sun reaches the celestial longitude of 240° and ends when it reaches the longitude of 255°. ☜

2. Will-o’-the-wisps is an atmospheric ghost light seen by travellers at night, especially over bogs, swamps or marshes. ☜