On my 160th birthday, I came to a crushing conclusion. I would die of old age before taking another step on my path. My body and soul had been refined by the Heavenly energies and would last several thousand years without decay. To most, I might as well already have been immortal. Mundane weapons could not harm me, and I could wield Qi to achieve impossible feats.

But I was not really immortal, and for cultivators, my lifespan was nothing special. To the true masters of the Dao, my existence would be as short and insignificant as a mortal’s was to me. But I could not go further as I was. I had achieved some mastery in the element of earth and the aspect of the mountain and refined my [Heavenly Mountain] art into a respectable art of powerful defensive techniques and destructive yet slow offensive techniques. 

But I could not form a core. I was never exceptionally talented at gathering Qi, and most of my achievements were due to diligence, perseverance, and luck. Neither the ambient Heavenly energies nor the resources of my sect were enough to make up for my meager talent. So then I was doomed to feebly cultivate in vain until I died of old age due to my inability to progress. The end of thousands of other mediocre cultivators under the Heavens.

For the past 10 years, I had been cultivating trying to advance. At first, I was enthusiastic, having fully permeated my soul with heavenly energies and reaching the peak of Soul Saturation. But gradually as I made nearly imperceptible progress I realized that I would never take the next step in my lifetime.

“How frustrating, how vexing!”

Would I truly live out the rest of my days as merely another Grumpy old elder in my sect, guiding the outer disciples in their similarly doomed cultivation?

Must I abide by such a fate? I asked myself. Was I truly destined to never touch upon the sublime truths of the Heavens? To never claim ownership of my own fate and walk the Dao with my head held high?

“NO!” I refused such an end!

But what was I to do? Should I have left the sect in search of fortune? Hoped that I would find some great treasure in the wilds, and attempted to use it to advance before I was killed by others seeking their fortune? It would be a wretched life, to live like a dog fighting over scraps. Loose cultivators create nothing, they leave only a wake of destruction in their selfish quests for power and immortality. No, I could not live such a life. My path of the Heavenly Mountain would not fit such a lifestyle, for mountains are sedentary and stable things. They do not move and hunt. They simply stand for eons letting all things come to them. Such irony then, that I would be unable to progress my path. Because despite cultivating the way of the mountain, I was not a mountain, I was but a man destined for dust as any other mortal and as such I could not wait like the mountain.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

Perhaps that was my mistake? Had I cultivated a path unsuitable to my fate? Should I attempt to shed my cultivation and start my path anew? Could I even succeed in such an endeavor? Shedding one’s cultivation is a dangerous task, with a high risk of destroying oneself in the process. Should I have attempted it, I would have likely ripped my spiritual veins to shreds and cracked my Dantian like an egg. A miserable way to go.

“Hmmm… no, I think I won’t” Much too risky and painful, and even should I have succeeded my meager talents would remain the same. But my time would be shorter and I’d be without the advantage of youth. No, it was simply not a viable way forward for me.

It seemed then, that I would continue my path of the Mountain. And in truth, I was glad for that. The path speaks to me. I loved engrossing myself in the depth of concepts contained in the mountains.

So how would I proceed then? No other matters demanded my attention, so I was free to seclude myself and attempt to find a path forward, to fight against the tyranny of time. So I meditated upon this for the next month until I came to a conclusion.

Once I emerged from the depths of meditation, I could not help but smirk. Ah, how foolish I had been. The path forward is always both clear and obscure, but this time I was confident I had found my next step. It should have been obvious what I should have done. 

“From the great Heavenly Mountain, the beginning of the cycle springs forth and attracts all that would strive. And so the mountain feeds the hunger of life. And the many paths that traverse it etch upon it the heavenly Dao. On the Heavenly Mountain grows the Fruit of Immortality, thus inevitably the fruit will fall from its branch and become one with the mountain.”

While meditating on my path I studied this passage in my [Heavenly Mountain] art closely and came to a conclusion. As I was, I was like a barren mountain. Nothing grew upon me and nothing sprung forth from me. And I derided loose cultivators of creating nothing? What hypocrisy when I failed in much the same way. So what would I do to grow the Fruit of Immortality? I decided I should take on a disciple.