The pavilion stood in silence.
It was open on all sides, supported by stone pillars carved with flowing cloud patterns. Beyond its edges, white mist drifted slowly, revealing fragments of distant peaks before swallowing them again. The air was cool, light, and steady—each breath Zhao Wen took felt deeper than any he had drawn before.
He stood at the center, unsure where to place his hands.
Qingshi faced him from a short distance away.
Between them, a folded robe rested on a stone table.
"Put it on," Qingshi said.
Zhao Wen hesitated, then reached out.
The robe was light gray, bordered with thin white trim. The fabric felt warm to the touch, neither heavy nor coarse. When he put it on, it fit perfectly, as if it had always belonged to him. The faint chill in his body eased slightly, replaced by a quiet sense of stability.
"This robe marks your standing," Qingshi said. "Nothing more."
Zhao Wen swallowed.
He had a thousand questions pressing against his chest. He chose the first.
"What is this place exactly?"
Qingshi's gaze lifted slightly, toward the clouds beyond the pavilion.
"This is the immortal realm known as the Heaven of the Resting Peaks," he said.
"It is not the world you came from.
Nor is it an illusion."
Zhao Wen's fingers curled unconsciously into the fabric of his robe.
"Then… who gave me the token?"
"The Lord of this Heaven."
"He does not accept titles from mortals.
'Lord' is only how we distinguish his position."
Zhao Wen's voice came out quieter than he intended. "Is this a dream?"
"If it were," Qingshi replied, "your body would not be tired.
Your breath would not deepen.
And you would not be standing here."
Zhao Wen exhaled slowly. His legs still ached from the climb. His palms were damp with sweat. The pain was real.
"Why me?" he asked.
Qingshi looked at him directly.
"Because you are qualified to walk the path of immortality," he said.
"You possess a spirit root."
Zhao Wen frowned. "What's that?"
"You will learn about it in time."
A moment passed.
"Why is there no one else around?" Zhao Wen asked. "Where are the others?"
"There are many," Qingshi answered. "You will meet them when you grow stronger."
Zhao Wen nodded, though that answer only deepened his unease.
Zhao Wen hesitated, then asked the question that had been weighing on him since they met.
"Who are you really? Are you an immortal?"
"I am Qingshi," he replied. "A Dao Warden."
At Zhao Wen's confusion, Qingshi continued, "Yes, in simple words. I am indeed Immortal."
Zhao Wen took a slow breath.
"What is my purpose here?" he asked. "How do you know I'll continue on this path? What if I don't?"
Qingshi's answer came without hesitation.
"If you did not seek answers, you would not have climbed the mountain," he said.
"When the road to immortality stands before them, very few turn away."
Zhao Wen's lips parted slightly.
"Will I… will I be able to become like you?"
Qingshi did not answer immediately.
"If you mean standing here," he said at last, "yes.
If you mean flying—eventually.
Anything beyond that is not a question you should ask yet."
Silence returned to the pavilion.
After a moment, Qingshi turned slightly away.
"You have asked enough," he said. "Rest."
He gestured lightly.
The token on Zhao Wen's chest shimmered faintly.
"This will allow you to come and go freely," Qingshi continued. "If it is lost or stolen, you will sense it. It will return to you. To others, it is nothing more than a meaningless object."
Zhao Wen's heart beat faster.
"You will return now," Qingshi said. "Come back every night. Cultivate. Observe. Do not act recklessly."
The mist thickened.
The pavilion began to fade.
Zhao Wen felt the now-familiar distortion twist around him, space folding inward without pressure or pain.
The last thing he saw was Qingshi standing alone beneath the open sky.
Then the world shifted.
And He returned to his room.Top of Form
Zhao Wen could not believe what has happened but the light gray robe bordered with thin white trim and the token in his hand with his name written on it was proof he has meet something he thought was myth.
He remain silent for a long time.
He was exhausted so he stand up to change and remember the forgot his cloths inside the pavilion.
He laughed lightly. And thinks if this is a dream it is a dream of immortality. Bottom of Form
End of Chapter 40