I Live Forever In The World of Cultivation World - Chapter 24: The Gift

Seeing the situation, He Song nodded inwardly. He picked up the teacup in front of him but refrained from drinking. It was their first meeting, after all—better to err on the side of caution.

However, as He Song listened to Zhao Lin speak, he grew a little curious about how Zhao Lin addressed Meng Guan.

In the small circle comprising He Song, Meng Guan, and Wei Fan, Meng Guan’s nickname was “Old Meng,” which both He Song and Wei Fan used to address him.

Wei Fan had no nickname; both He Song and Meng Guan called him “Brother Wei.”

As for He Song, due to his relatively lower cultivation level and younger age, both Wei Fan and Meng Guan addressed him as “Daoist He.”

It wasn’t because they were distant, but because He Song disliked being called “Little He” or “Little Song.” Since the other two were older than him, they agreed after a discussion to simply use the more formal “Daoist.”

Now, hearing Zhao Lin refer to Meng Guan as “Brother Meng,” He Song quickly understood.

Zhao Lin had a good relationship with Meng Guan but hadn’t quite reached the level of joining their inner circle.

Still, it wasn’t far off.

If Meng Guan hadn’t left so suddenly, perhaps in a few more years, their small circle of three might have grown to include one more member.

As these thoughts passed through his mind, He Song wasted no time.

He placed the talisman ink he had been holding onto the table.

Glancing at the cluttered desk in front of him, He Song felt he had made the right choice.

The messy desk appeared to be Zhao Lin’s workstation for crafting talismans. It was piled with various tools for talisman-making.

There was a talisman brush that appeared extraordinary at first glance, several small dishes of dark red talisman ink of unknown origin, and sheets of talisman paper scattered everywhere.

These items gave the desk an especially chaotic appearance.

“Forgive my impromptu visit. I had heard from Old Meng that Daoist Zhao is skilled in crafting talismans, so I brought along some talisman ink. I hope you won’t find it too humble a gift,” He Song said, pushing the talisman ink toward Zhao Lin.

Indeed, Meng Guan’s letter had mentioned Zhao Lin’s talent in talisman-making.

He Song was simply catering to his interests by purchasing some talisman ink from the market before his visit.

It wasn’t particularly valuable, but it certainly made a better impression than showing up empty-handed.

“You shouldn’t have gone to the trouble, Daoist He. If you ever need talismans in the future, feel free to come to me. As long as it’s within my ability to make, I’ll ensure you won’t be disappointed,” Zhao Lin said warmly as he discreetly examined the ink. His enthusiasm grew even more noticeable.

While Zhao Lin didn’t lack talisman ink, there was a distinct difference between buying it himself and receiving it as a gift.

When he was still a Spirit Planter, not only did no one bring him gifts, but even when he wanted to give others gifts, he couldn’t find the right connections.

Now, with He Song visiting and presenting a gift, Zhao Lin couldn’t help but feel genuinely pleased.

Having accepted the gift, the two were now properly acquainted.

Recalling Meng Guan’s instructions to take care of He Song, Zhao Lin couldn’t help but speculate about their relationship.

Perhaps He Song could shed some light on things.

With this thought in mind, Zhao Lin spoke up.

“By the way, Daoist He, do you know why Brother Meng left so suddenly? He seemed to be in a hurry, as if something urgent had come up, but I didn’t think to ask at the time.”

At the end of his question, a trace of embarrassment flashed across Zhao Lin’s face.

It wasn’t that he hadn’t thought to ask—it was that he’d been completely stunned by the sudden opportunity, leaving him too dazed to inquire.

Until last night, Zhao Lin never would have imagined that Meng Guan would suddenly leave and pass on his position to him.

As a result, Zhao Lin had spent the entire night in a state of shock, only starting to recover by this morning.

“It’s no big secret. Daoist Zhao will hear about it in a few days anyway,” He Song replied, avoiding Zhao Lin’s question.

Having achieved his purpose for the visit, He Song had no intention of lingering any longer.

After casually brushing off Zhao Lin’s queries, He Song soon made his excuses and left.

The news about the Crimson Spirit Gold Mine was indeed not much of a secret.

However, there were certain insider details that He Song would never share with a newly acquainted cultivator like Zhao Lin.

His information came from Wei Fan, whose access to reliable intelligence far surpassed that of the average cultivator.

In a few days, though, news of the recruitment of wandering cultivators as miners for the Crimson Spirit Gold Mine would undoubtedly spread throughout the Bamboo Mountain Immortal Market.

How the wandering cultivators and the Immortal Market’s internal staff would react at that time was beyond He Song’s ability to predict.

By then, Zhao Lin would naturally understand the reason behind Meng Guan’s departure, without any need for He Song to explain in advance.

After bidding farewell to Zhao Lin, He Song took only a few minutes to return to his own doorstep.

His gaze drifted toward his neighbor’s house next door, and a trace of contemplation flashed through his eyes.

Within the Bamboo Mountain Immortal Market, He Song knew many people.

Yet, those he could truly call friends were extremely few.

Wei Fan, Meng Guan, and Lin Cong—these three were the only ones He Song considered true friends within the Immortal Market.

Lin Cong, who lived next door, was a burly man with an intimidating presence.

As a wandering cultivator, Lin Cong earned his living by teaming up with others to hunt demonic beasts. His combat prowess was extraordinary.

In fact, He Song had once been so wary of Lin Cong’s strength that he had no choice but to invoke Wei Fan’s name as a late-stage Qi Refinement cultivator to establish his backing.

Fortunately, Lin Cong had no ill intentions.

Now, after more than five years of knowing each other, their relationship had evolved from mere neighboring acquaintances to close friends who could chat freely.

They often sat together for tea, sharing amusing stories about their respective experiences.

“It’s been… about half a month since I last saw him, hasn’t it?” He Song mused, recalling the last time he had met Lin Cong.

Half a month might pass in the blink of an eye under normal circumstances, but He Song distinctly remembered that the last time Lin Cong visited, he had mentioned being on the verge of breaking through to the fourth level of Qi Refinement.

Now, after half a month without contact, He Song wasn’t sure whether Lin Cong had successfully made the breakthrough.

He let his gaze linger on Lin Cong’s house for a moment before shaking his head. He decided against disturbing him.

If Lin Cong happened to be in the middle of a critical phase of his breakthrough, any interruption could potentially strain their friendship—something He Song wanted to avoid.

“It’s better to wait until he successfully breaks through to mid-stage Qi Refinement and then pay him a congratulatory visit,” He Song thought to himself.

With this plan in mind, He Song was just about to enter his own house when the sound of a door opening suddenly reached his ears.

Turning toward the sound, he saw that it wasn’t Lin Cong’s door that had opened, but the one on the other side of his house.

Lin Cong lived on the left side of He Song’s home, while this household was on the right.

“Hello, Brother Song!” a young and tender voice greeted him.

“Daoist He, just getting back?” an elderly man asked, smiling warmly as he held a little girl’s hand.

This old man and the little girl had moved in two years ago.

He Song’s previous neighbors on the right had been on decent terms with him, but two years ago, they left in a hurry, never to return.

He Song hadn’t seen or heard anything about them since.

About a month later, this elderly man and the little girl had moved in, leaving He Song with no choice but to accept that he suddenly had new neighbors.

As for what had happened to his old neighbor—whether they were alive or dead—He Song had no way of knowing.