Chapter 1 The Young Daoist Monk (1/2)

There was a mountain called the Mount Qingxia. The path leading up to it was a windy, twisted trail paved with stone steps covered in wet moss.

A middle-aged man in his thirties was sweating profusely, beads of sweat trickling down onto the stone steps – he was clearly exhausted from the hike.

He paused for a moment, as he wiped the sweat off his forehead with the lapel of his Chinese jacket. In front of him was a luscious green forest. As the leafy branches danced to the wind, the dark green roof tiles unveiled and came into sight, faintly discernible.

After another fifteen minutes of hiking, he could finally see the ancient building standing deep in the mountains. Uncovering it from its mysterious veil, the ancient building could then be seen in its entirety.

Behind him was a serene bamboo-lined path and ahead of him was a slope of peacefully rooted pine trees. He could not help but notice the stark contrast - a run-down Daoist temple was right in front of him.

Despite its simplicity and the remoteness of its location, the Daoist temple was surrounded by an air of mystique. Fascinated by the sight before him, the man felt refreshed. The fatigue from the climb slowly faded away.

He took a deep breath and sent sweet, fresh air deep into his lungs. Mustering the little energy that he had left, he dragged himself to the entrance. Most of the red paint on the door pillars did not withstand the test of time and had long chipped and weathered off. Strange enough, the signboard – an inscribed tablet hanging on top of the door - retained its color.

The name of the temple - Qingxia Temple, was inscribed clearly and neatly on the signboard. The inscription was neat, each stroke showcased the Daoist author's detachment and independence.

Flanking each side of the door was a set of Chinese couplet, 'Heart as free as the clouds; Mind that flows like running water'.

Judging from the ink, it was obvious that the couplet was a recent addition. The calligraphy was expressive and unrestrained.

The man was not well-versed in literature and art but even he could tell that there was something special about the couplet. What exactly, he could not put his finger on it; the couplet just had a certain je ne sais quoi.

Grabbing onto the iron ring attached to the door, the man knocked and was taken aback by the unexpected loud collision. Out of courtesy, he knocked again in a gentler and less abrupt manner.

Shortly after, the door swung open.

A young Daoist monk around thirteen or fourteen years old stood by the door. He gave off a whiff of herbal medicine, the scent was almost pleasant.

The young Daoist monk had neatly shaped and delicate facial features. He was slightly on the thinner side. Even though he had put on an oversized puffer jacket, the man could tell that he was frail. His face had a yellowish undertone, hinting at possible underlying health concerns.

He used to go by the name Li Feng. More precisely, his soul did not belong to this world. He was a doctor on Earth. He used to run a clinic and had considerable income. On top of that, he owned a car and a house. He might not be considered a winner in life but undeniably, he led a good life.

With that said, the repetitive lifestyle got boring after a while.

He was driving home that day. At the junction, he got into an accident. By the time he was awake, he realized that his soul was in a different body.

Having transcended time and space, he realized that not every time traveler was that lucky.

Three months ago, he became the new owner of this body, Shen Lian. Seeing it as a fateful encounter, he decided to assume Shen Lian's identity as a token of apology of sorts to the actual owner of the body.