He didn’t think much of it and laughed, “There are so many good tunes in the world, it’s impossible for us to know them all. Brother, have you suddenly taken a liking to the sounds of strings and flutes?”

The young man chuckled and shook his head. The two of them slowly rode their horses into the village.

By the roadside were rice paddies, where farmers were sweating profusely as they harvested the rice. As the young man passed by, his eyes remained fixed on the fields, his expression growing increasingly serious.

The younger boy glanced around for a while. Some of the rice in the fields had already been harvested, while some still stood tall. At first glance, it all looked messy and unremarkable. Seeing his elder brother’s serious look, he couldn’t help but ask curiously, “What are you looking at again…”

“Look farther and more carefully.”

The boy looked intently, his gaze stretching out. As he surveyed the rice fields, he seemed to notice that the areas cut short formed the shape of a Taiji yin-yang fish. Although it wasn’t perfectly accurate, the shape was unmistakably Taiji!

Was it an illusion?

Suppressing his surprise, the young man reined in his horse and cupped his hands, saying, “Excuse me, sir…”

The farmer looked up and finally noticed the two’s obvious air of nobility, his face blooming into a smile: “Are you two heading into the mountains to seek immortals? It’s getting late—how about staying at my place for the night? It’s very cheap…”

…The image of a master was instantly shattered. The young man’s eyes flickered, but he still politely introduced himself: “I am Ethan Thompson, and this is my younger brother Olivia Carter… May I ask, sir, why is the rice harvested in such a shape? Is there some special meaning?”

“Special meaning?” The farmer scratched his head in confusion, getting mud in his hair. “This was taught to me by little Foster—it’s a shorthand way to write the numbers six and nine. He said when you put them together, it’s called some kind of pattern? I don’t really get it. I just remembered how to write the numbers and harvested it like that…”

So that’s what it was? The brothers exchanged glances and both let out a slightly amused sigh of relief. Although this way of writing six and nine was unheard of, it was still easier to accept than a country farmer creating a Taiji yin-yang fish in the fields.

The farmer added, “My place is the most comfortable to stay at—warm bed, hot milk, only three wen…”

“No need.” The two smiled and rode on.

“Hey, hey, hey…” the farmer called after them, “Don’t go into the mountains so late! There’s poisonous miasma and a strange tiger in the mountains lately—it’s very dangerous!”

The young Olivia Thompson patted his gun case and turned his head with a smile: “To face difficulties head-on is to show sincerity. Why don’t we help you get rid of the fierce tiger?”

The farmer looked at their guns, hesitated for a moment, and simply said, “Just be careful.”

Near the end of the village, at the foot of the mountain, the mist grew even thicker. The few courtyards at the village’s edge were barely visible. A woodcutter came leisurely with a carrying pole, as if walking out of the clouds and mist, singing a ballad casually:

“Everyone in the world knows the immortals are good,

But only fame and fortune are hard to forget.

Where are the generals and ministers of old?

A mound of weeds covers their lonely graves.

Everyone in the world knows the immortals are good,

But only gold and silver are hard to forget.

All day they regret not gathering enough,

But when they have plenty, their eyes close forever…”

The brothers stared and listened, their horses slowing to a stop until they finally halted completely.

Coming to this place, everything felt different from elsewhere. Even a woodcutter’s song was of such caliber—no wonder people said there were immortals in these mountains; it truly made sense.

“May I ask, sir…” Ethan Thompson stopped the woodcutter, “Who composed this song?”

The woodcutter smiled, “It’s a song sung by the Foster family boy—interesting, isn’t it?”

More than just interesting! Where was this? This was Xianji Mountain, where seekers of immortality had come in droves for generations. To hear such a song in a place like this was all the more meaningful.

“May I ask where this Mr. Foster lives?”

The woodcutter casually pointed into the depths of the mist: “It’s the last courtyard at the end of the village, the one where herbs are dried. You’ll recognize it when you get there.”

The courtyard was indeed easy to spot. It was filled with racks, each holding several layers of bamboo trays covered with all kinds of herbs. The faint fragrance of medicinal plants lingered in the air, very pleasant.

A young boy sat in the center of the courtyard, holding a stick and pounding medicine in a stone mortar, looking relaxed and at ease, seemingly unaware of the approaching guests.

The two watched from horseback for a while, and their anticipation of meeting a great master gradually faded. This boy was simply too young—he looked only sixteen or seventeen, not much older than Olivia Thompson, and it was hard to associate him with any kind of reclusive sage. What’s more, with their martial arts eyes, they could tell this boy was just a martial cultivator, and not even as skilled as themselves.

Still, the boy was interesting. Dressed in coarse clothes and straw sandals, he was a bit thin, but his features were delicate and gentle, not like a country villager, more like a scholar. As he pounded medicine, he hummed an indistinct tune, the “kong kong” sound of the pestle drifting through the quiet dusk, carrying a relaxing rhythm and melody, evoking a sense of rural tranquility and leisure.

Judging by this, his songs and numbers were probably from reading miscellaneous books, or perhaps some family learning? But if it were family learning, the farmer and woodcutter only referred to him as “little Foster” or “the Foster family boy”—perhaps his elders were no longer around.

What was amusing was that his “pestle” was actually a wolf-tooth club, which looked thicker than his thigh. The fierce spikes gleamed in the sunset, forming a ridiculous contrast with his gentle appearance.

Was this his martial weapon?

“Hey!” Olivia Thompson had watched for a while and couldn’t help but laugh, “Can you really pound medicine with a wolf-tooth club? Isn’t the end covered in spikes?”