Many of the travelers had already curled up on the ground as if they were asleep. Most lay directly on the earth, covering themselves only with a thick coat, a thin blanket, or a light quilt. The open space in the mountain was scattered with small flickering firelights.0

Yet, if one looked carefully, they would notice that most of these people still had their eyes open. Every so often, they would lift their heads and scan their surroundings, clearly waiting for the legendary ascension of an immortal, just as the stories of Mount Zunzhe had foretold.0

The Daoist had also laid out his woolen felt and sat back down upon it, instantly feeling much more comfortable.0

Compared to the other travelers, he had gained a small measure of contentment.0

The mountain wind howled through the mist, producing a mournful, wailing sound. Even the fire in front of him flickered dimly for a moment.0

The fire pit held two pots, one large and one small—both essential for traveling the world. The large pot wasn’t particularly big, and the small one was downright tiny, barely larger than a bowl, making it look quite adorable.0

The little girl, her face solemn, carefully removed them from the fire.0

The large pot contained a thick mushroom and meat porridge. The rice had been brought along in their supplies,...0