Watching Er Gouzi's departing figure, the man carrying the hoe let out a sigh.
"Ah, life and death are destined, this harmful Immortal dream!"
Shaking his head,
His heart was filled with deep regret.
The dense fog on Qingcheng Mountain was indeed unusual; the villagers' elders once ventured there themselves, and it was said that inhaling the mist made one feel refreshed, somewhat mystical.
But so what?
Even if there were truly Immortals residing on the mountain.
Would those lofty, flying Immortals ever consider a humble farmer's boy like you?
Living a practical life is better.
Then,
He turned his gaze toward the dilapidated house before him.
It was the inheritance left to Er Gouzi by his ancestors.
Though rundown, it was still a house.
But now,
With Er Gouzi gone, it had become an ownerless property.
Recalling Er Gouzi's words before leaving, the man hesitated for a moment, but couldn't resist entering the house.
