The closest thing that they had ever achieved was Ying Mei’s Words Become a World, but not even she had grasped the same insights as Lu Yin.
Another example that had come close to that level was the Tianyuan’s ancient characters, which had appeared in the Daosource Sect. Each character contained a mystery, but who had left those characters behind? Had it been the Origin Progenitor? Lu Yin had never looked into it before, but he now etched the question into his mind. He would make sure to bring it up to the Origin Progenitor when they next met.
At the moment, Lu Yin had a strong desire to learn something through those characters.
People possessed karma, but words, which were born of people, were even greater expressions of karma.
It might be possible for him to glean something through them.
As for Qian Shu, he could stay in a Zenith Mountain and draw characters.
What a pity about the Autumnspring Slip; it still felt rather odd to be lying atop a mirebound artifact.
A clear river meandered around quaint stone houses as it peacefully flowed through a quiet city. There were embankments on either side of the river, covered with flowers, grass, and trees. Everything was accompanied by the chirping of birds and insects.
The city was perfectly ordinary, having been built on solid ground, and it was primarily inhabited by ordinary humans.
Oddly enough, such cities were often the safest places to live. There was an unspoken rule among cultivators, which was to not fight in places where mortals gathered. No matter how prosperous the cultivation world might become, the foundation of all cultivators remained the world of mortals. This led to such acts being considered taboo.
The longer a civilization’s history, the more such taboos would accumulate. In contrast, places like the Tianyuan Megaverse had no explicitly stated taboos.
Pa-pa-pa!
On the bank of the river, an elderly woman was beating a heavy cloth with a wooden rod. Water splashed about wildly whenever she struck the fabric, spraying droplets into the river.
A group of children played boisterously behind her, and they were occasionally chased off by the old woman so that no one would fall into the river.
One of the children was knocked over by a large goose and started to cry. The old woman drove the goose away with her stick, drawing a round of laughter from those watching.
A wooden raft lazily drifted down the river. A simple parasol hung over it, shading a young man who was reclining in a chair that slowly rocked back and forth. A small table stood beside him, carrying drinks and a tray of various fruits.
The raft quickly drew attention from both sides of the river. People pointed and started gossiping, intrigued by the odd sight.
Naturally, the person on the raft was Lu Yin. He lounged in the chair that lazily rocked back and forth, completely unfazed by the curious stares from the banks of the river. He was wearing sunglasses and was humming a cheerful tune.
More and more people turned to stare, and they muttered among themselves. “He must be a foreigner, but what’s that thing on his face?”
“It’s black and shiny, and it just flashed at me.”
“He’s drinking something green from that cup... Could it be poison?”
“Quick! Drive him off! We can’t let him die here. No one’s ever died in this river.”
“Get him out of here!”
“Chase him off...”
At that moment, an elderly man was pushed forward, and he shuffled unsteadily. He peered out at the raft drifting down the river and waved for everyone to be quiet. “In my youth, I saw a celestial being descend outside the city. That man must be one.”
“A celestial being? No wonder he can drink poison and is still fine.”
“Is Teacher really telling the truth?”
“Of course! Teacher would never lie!”
“Wait, who said that? You little rascal! Are you skipping class again?”
“Help! Teacher, don’t hit me...”
The people along the riverbanks grew increasingly noisy. Lu Yin lazily stretched and sat up, adjusting his sunglasses with a finger as he glanced at both sides of the river.
The people instinctively went quiet as they all stared at him.
The raft gently rocked with the waves. A fish leapt out of the water, scattering a fine mist that refracted an iridescent rainbow in the air. It was an enchanting scene.
Lu Yin smiled brightly. He picked up a bamboo pole from beside his feet. There was a cloth tied to it with writing on both sides. On the front, it read “Believe it or not,” and on the back, it read “Don’t believe it? Believe it anyway.” Confusion filled the crowd’s eyes as Lu Yin laid back down in his reclining chair and drawled, “Fortune-telling.”
People blinked and then burst into laughter before the crowd gradually dispersed.
Fortune-telling? Who still believed in such nonsense?
Ever since celestial beings had started appearing more frequently in various cities, ordinary humans had started to learn the difference between them and such otherworldly beings. Celestial beings had introduced many novel things that most people had never seen before, and they had also learned that fortune-telling was nothing more than a joke.
Someone had once asked if celestial beings were able to divine a person’s fate, but a celestial being had answered clearly: it was absolutely impossible, not unless Greater Sancte Green Lotus himself made the prediction.
While the people did not know who Greater Sancte Green Lotus was, they did know that, if not even celestial beings could predict someone’s future, then this man was undoubtedly a fraud.
“Hey! Are you a celestial being?” one laughing child called out.
A burly man behind the child stormed over, absolutely furious. “You little brat! You’re asking for a beating! Don’t talk to strangers!”
Lu Yin just chuckled as he replied, “Yes, I am.”
Another child shouted, “Then you must be the worst celestial being ever!”
Lu Yin grew curious. “And why is that?”
“You claim to be able to tell fortunes, so you tell us why! Haha!” another child jeered, drawing laughter from the crowd.