Half an hour later, Mo Xuan looked at the transport vessel—nearly brand-new now—and nodded in satisfaction.
Next, he immediately piloted it toward Teacher Kong's paradise.
Teacher Kong's Immortal Paradise, roughly two kilometers across, was also divided in half: one half lake, one half spirit fields and spirit hills. But the lake's water level was shallow, and the spirit plants in the fields looked listless, their growth poor.
Atop one of the spirit hills stood a small palace.
Inside, Kong Jian—hair tied up beneath a golden crown, a slightly upturned goatee giving him a roguish charm—stood holding a book. His loose green robes fluttered as if stirred by a gentle wind, making him look effortlessly free and unrestrained.
When he saw his transport vessel descend, Kong Jian let out a small sound of surprise.
So soon?
And the vessel looked freshly repaired and maintained.
Kong Jian put the book away and walked out of the palace with hands behind his back.
Mo Xuan drifted down before him and bowed deeply. "Disciple Mo Xuan pays respects to Master."
Kong Jian chuckled and helped him up, then examined him from head to toe. He nodded. "A fledgling must weather storms before it truly grows. It seems your trip brought you good gains."
Mo Xuan grinned and gave a simplified account of his journey—leaving out every danger. He only said he'd been lucky enough to run into a large asteroid belt and harvested a fortune.
"Good. Good. Good." Kong Jian nodded repeatedly. He took Mo Xuan by the hand, led him into the palace, and the two sat facing each other on meditation cushions, speaking at length about family and small matters.
"Master, may I borrow your jade platter for a moment?" Mo Xuan asked.
As an Earth Immortal—one rank above ordinary immortals—Kong Jian could easily afford a personal jade platter.
A jade platter functioned like a personal data terminal. Since Mo Xuan didn't yet have one of his own, transferring points required using someone else's. And you couldn't transfer points to a third party using a second person's platter.
Kong Jian's gaze shifted slightly, and he smiled. "Xuan'er, it's enough that you have the thought. These years, the help I could give you was limited. Most of it was your own effort. I am an Earth Immortal, with thousands of years of savings. You, on the other hand, have only just begun."
He laughed. "When you finally build your Immortal Garden and still have surplus, then bring your master gifts. And when that day comes—more is better."
Mo Xuan hesitated, then nodded hard, carving the kindness into his heart.
Kong Jian waved his hand cheerfully. "Alright. I know you're eager to go home. Go. As for the transport vessel—I don't need it right now. Keep using it. Finish mining that asteroid belt and repay your Academy debt first."
Mo Xuan nodded, bowed farewell, and piloted the polished transport vessel toward his homeland: Qing Mountain Commandery.
Could this be called returning home in glory?
Over the past two hundred years, Mo Xuan hadn't returned often.
First, a round trip took half a month. Non-immortals weren't allowed to fly, and Mo Xuan had always traveled in stages—first by transport vessel to Qing Mountain Commandery, then by horse cart, then ox cart. Slow, exhausting.
Second, every time he returned, his family made a huge fuss and insisted on stuffing him with supplies before he left. Mo Xuan couldn't bear to add to their burden. So he relied on work-study, and later only dared to return once every decade or so, keeping contact through flying-crane letters the rest of the time.
This time, with a transport vessel, even with airspeed limits over the continent, he could be home in less than half an hour.
The Qingyuan Minor Immortal Realm had sixty-three prefectures. Below them were commanderies, then counties, then villages. One prefecture alone covered several times Earth's total surface area. Each held dozens, sometimes hundreds of commanderies. Even a "small" commandery was roughly the size of China. Counties and villages were countless, comparable to Earth's.
The Mo Clan's home—Qing Mountain Commandery—sat in the southwest corner of An Prefecture. It was considered small, with only 1,423 counties.
The Mo Clan lived in Huànxī Village, Mingyu County.
Green mountains encircled the land. Clear water flowed quietly. Small bridges and riverside homes—an idyllic scene.
Three great waterwheels turned slowly in the current. Through long bamboo pipes, river water was carried to irrigate ten thousand mu of spirit fields on both sides. Leaves from overhanging branches shaded the wheelhouses, making the air fresh and pleasant.
Hundreds of small courtyards were scattered along the river. Those clustered together were mostly relatives of the same clan.
The Mo Clan's twenty-seven courtyards were connected in one stretch—one of the largest families in Huànxī Village.
Qingyuan had no sun.
At the bottom of the Dao Lords' Immortal Heavens were illumination formations that lit the entire world. Over a twelve-hour cycle, brightness changed: daytime looked as if three small suns hung in the sky; nighttime, three small moons.
It was near dusk.
Men returned from the fields after weeding, carrying tools over their shoulders. Women herded old oxen back into pens from the riverbank. Children played on the open threshing ground. Women washed rice and vegetables at the river. Elders gathered in groups of three or five, smoking dry tobacco and gossiping, occasionally scolding mischievous little ones.
Warmth and peace everywhere.
The current clan head, Mo Shi, sat in a wheelchair with a blanket over his knees. Gazing at the spirit crops growing well in the fields, he felt deeply content.
He said to the bright-eyed little girl beside him—teeth neat, hair styled in cute twin side buns—"Little Que'er, push me back."
Mo Que'er answered crisply and turned the chair toward the Mo Clan's main courtyard by the river.
Suddenly, the children on the threshing ground erupted into noise.
"A flying ship!""It's a flying ship!""It really flies!"
In this remote countryside, it was rare to see a transport vessel overhead. The children jumped and waved, shouting wildly.
Mo Que'er glanced up. Her beautiful eyes flashed—but unlike the others, she didn't lose composure.
Mo Shi chuckled. "Your Ancestor-Grandfather Xuan should be piloting such a ship through the Void right now."
"Yes, Clan Head," Mo Que'er replied sweetly.
Mo Shi looked at her with satisfaction. Perhaps Little Que'er would become the Mo Clan's second immortal someday.
The transport vessel approached quickly and hovered above the threshing ground, then began to descend.
The children went silent, staring blankly at the enormous dark shape lowering over their heads.
They were too stunned to scream.
"What are you standing there for? Run!" an elder roared.
Only then did the children burst into panicked wails—"Waaah!" "Help!"—scattering in terror.
Elders spread their arms to shield them, retreating from the ground while staring up at the descending ship in disbelief. Even at their age, few had ever seen a transport vessel this close. So many intricate patterns on the hull…
The children peeked out from behind the elders, curiosity overriding fear. From the sky it hadn't seemed that big. On the ground, it felt gigantic.
Adults, who had been resting in courtyards nearby, heard the commotion and rushed over.
Mo Shi's face tightened.
Could something have happened to Xuan'er?
Mo Que'er blinked and pushed Mo Shi closer.
The vessel landed lightly in the center of the threshing ground. Eighteen whip-like appendages retracted into a bundle, and then all motion stopped.
Everyone—adults and children alike—craned their necks, frozen.
Mo Xuan stepped out, grinning. The first person he saw was his grandfather Mo Shi in the wheelchair. His eyes burned instantly.
Before anyone could fully react, he swept forward like a wind, stopping before the chair.
He grabbed Mo Shi's hand, crouched at his feet, and choked out, "Grandfather… Xuan'er is home."
"Xuan'er! It's Xuan'er!" Mo Shi burst into tears, gripping his hand hard and trying to stand—only to collapse back into the chair.
"Grandfather, don't get up," Mo Xuan said quickly, pressing a hand to his chest and sending a gentle thread of immortal essence into him to steady his breath.
"Good! Good! It's good you're home!" Mo Shi's eyes were blurred with tears as he patted Mo Xuan's arm again and again.
The clan snapped out of their daze.
"It's Uncle Xuan!""Uncle Xuan!""Grandpa Xuan!""The immortal ancestor is back!"
The Mo Clan surged forward, laughing and crying.
Villagers from other families stared in astonishment—first at Mo Xuan, then at the transport vessel.
So this was an immortal?
Mo Que'er remained the calmest person present. She simply watched Mo Xuan with her clear, watery eyes.
Mo Xuan sensed her gaze and looked back.
Her eyes were like a lake—still and peaceful, yet so deep that the bottom couldn't be seen.
Mo Xuan felt a faint surprise.
Mo Que'er was even more surprised. In her mind, an immortal should be composed and unmoving like a mountain. The young man before her—tears in his eyes, voice trembling—completely overturned that image.
Mo Xuan greeted relatives cheerfully, then noticed his parents were absent.
"Grandfather—where are my father and mothers?"
Mo Shi replied, "This morning, the B-grade spirit field harvested a batch of spirit vegetables. Tian, Di, and Xiao drove the fresh goods to the county to sell. An ox cart can't go fast. They should be back later."
Mo Xuan's father, Mo Tian, had two wives: Jiang Di and Jiang Xiao—twin sisters of the Jiang family. Mo Xuan's birth mother was Jiang Xiao.
They had met at the annual lantern festival. Scholar and beauties, love at first sight.
The next day, Mo Tian had carried betrothal gifts to propose to both sisters—only to be chased out by their father with a shoulder pole.
But sincerity can split stone. After many twists and turns, the three of them still found happiness together—a story the village remembered as a romance.
Mo Xuan nodded to the villagers observing from a distance, then said to his clan, "Let's go home first."
He moved behind the wheelchair and gently pushed his grandfather back toward the Mo courtyard, relatives crowding behind in excitement.
Mo Shi complained lightly, "Xuan'er… you never come home. Only flying-crane letters. Your grandmother was always afraid she wouldn't live to see you again."
Mo Xuan's voice rose urgently. "That won't happen! I'm here now. Grandfather and Grandmother will live a thousand years—there's plenty of time."
Mo Shi only smiled. Everyone wants a thousand years. But if Heaven decides to take you, what can you do? Life is only three hundred years at best. Better to be content.
After Mo Xuan left, a few bold children couldn't resist their curiosity. Ignoring adults' scolding, they ran to the transport vessel and stared up, circling it.
Adults hurried over, dragged them back, pressed them across knees and smacked their backsides—because was an immortal's ship something you could approach casually?
The Mo Clan's children were even more curious about the ship than about Immortal Ancestor Xuan himself. When the adults weren't looking, they slipped away and ran to the hull, reaching out, pulling back, reaching again.
Finally one child squeezed his eyes shut and touched it.
"Huh… not cold, not hot. It's kind of bouncy!"
The children jumped and squealed, treating the transport vessel like the most fascinating toy in the world. Other children couldn't endure it—ignoring the sting of spanked bottoms, they joined in to touch and pat it too.
When the adults saw nothing bad happened, they relaxed—and couldn't resist either. They went over to feel it, clicking their tongues in wonder.
So this was what a flying immortal ship felt like.
The patterns weren't carved on the surface—they were embedded inside the material.
Heh. They could brag about this in the county for years.
Mo Xuan didn't mind. He pushed his grandfather through the Mo courtyard gates, first visiting his grandmother, who lay in bed. He sat by her side and chatted for a long time, then sent a gentle stream of immortal essence into her so the excitement wouldn't overwhelm her, and she drifted into calm sleep.
Then Mo Xuan went to the clan hall, paying respects in order: four clan-uncles, then his half-brother Mo Zhu, and Mo Zhu's wife, Chen Xi.
Mo Xuan was only half a year younger than Mo Zhu.
Yet Mo Zhu's face was lined with deep wrinkles, his hair gray-white. He wasn't blind with age yet, but his posture and aura were unmistakably old.
Mo Xuan, meanwhile, looked like a fifteen-year-old youth.
That was the difference between mortal and immortal.
Mo Xuan sighed inwardly, full of complicated emotion.