Cultivation of immortality begins with an eighty-year-old eunuch.

Chapter 667 Transformation from God to Mortal! Horse Raising!

Deep within his dantian, the gap between the three realms of intent completely shattered at that moment.

Cause and effect, life and death, and stillness—these three realms of thought are no longer three separate paths, but begin to slowly intertwine and merge, forming a faint vortex in the dantian.

Cause and effect are the connection between heaven and earth and all things, and life and death are the cycle of heaven and earth and all things, which determines his position in this world.

They did not rise above heaven and earth as cultivators, but rather merged into heaven and earth as mortals.

Chen Fan suddenly understood.

The opportunity he had always lacked was not a more profound skill or a more exquisite sword intent, but rather the life a person should have.

Those years lost in the palace, those tenderness extinguished in the killing, those true selves forgotten in the scheming, were gradually rediscovered in this nameless tribe, among these ordinary herdsmen.

The reason why a spirit is called a spirit is because the nascent soul transforms into a spirit, which is to transform a mortal into a god.

Only by truly experiencing life as an ordinary person, feeling the joys and sorrows, life and death of ordinary people, can one transcend the ordinary and enter the realm of divinity.

Chen Fan, from the moment he entered the palace, was deprived of the right to be a mortal.

He has never truly lived, so how can he claim to have transcended the mundane?

The drumming gradually subsided as evening approached.

When the herders got tired of dancing, they sat in twos and threes on the grass, drinking sheep milk wine, eating roasted meat, and singing long grassland songs.

Chen Fan sat at the edge of the crowd, holding a bowl of wine handed to him by Batu, gazing at the grassland in the distance, which was dyed golden red by the setting sun.

Batu sat down next to him, took a big gulp of wine, wiped his mouth and said, "You danced well just now, but the first few steps were too stiff, like a lamb just learning to walk."

Chen Fan held his wine bowl, a faint smile still lingering on his lips. He didn't reply, but simply gazed at the setting sun about to sink into the grassland.

Batu did not say anything more.

The two sat there quietly, watching the sunset slowly sink into the sea of ​​grass, watching the evening glow change from golden red to dark purple, and watching the first star light up in the eastern sky.

That night, Chen Fan returned to his tent and sat cross-legged on the sheepskin blanket.

The three mental states within the dantian have merged into a complete vortex, slowly rotating and radiating an unprecedented aura of harmony.

The nascent soul trembled slightly under the nourishment of this aura, showing faint signs of a breakthrough.

But he didn't urge it on.

Almost there.

Although the three concepts have begun to merge, they still lack the final step to truly make them one's own.

That step cannot be solved by seclusion; it requires more time, deeper immersion, and a more complete ordinariness.

He calmed the nascent soul down again and laid it back on the sheepskin blanket.

Occasionally, the low barking of sheepdogs could be heard outside the tent. In the distance, herdsmen were still humming softly around the campfire, and further away, the wind on the grassland was blowing through the sea of ​​grass, making an eternal rustling sound.

Chen Fan closed his eyes and began to sleep.

……

Time flowed by slowly on the grassland, and half a month passed in the blink of an eye.

The horses that Chen Fan raised became famous in the tribe.

His gray-maned horse had been well-cared for, its coat now glossy and shiny. Although its legs were still not very nimble, it was much more energetic than when it arrived. Batu's chestnut horse, which was originally fierce, had become as docile as a lamb in his hands. Even Batu was amazed, saying that this outsider must have had a special connection with horses in his past life.

"Your horse-raising skills are really good." One evening, Batu sat in front of the tent watching Chen Fan brush Grey Mane's mane, took a sip of goat milk wine, and said, "My son Batel is thirteen this year. All he does is run around on the grassland all day long. He can't even take care of a horse properly. If you have time, teach him."

Chen Fan nodded and rinsed the brush in the bucket of water: "Have him come to see me tomorrow."

The next morning, Batel arrived as expected.

The child looked like his father, with thick eyebrows and a wide mouth, and his eyes were unusually bright. However, he was also very lively. He changed his posture seven or eight times in less than the time it takes for an incense stick to burn in front of Chen Fan. Sometimes he would pick at his fingers, sometimes he would kick pebbles, and sometimes he would stretch his neck to look at the wild ducks on the lake in the distance.

Chen Fan wasn't annoyed; he simply handed him the reins and told him to learn how to brush the horse's mane first.

"You have to brush the horse's coat from head to tail, following the direction of the hair roots, not against them," Chen Fan explained as he demonstrated. "A horse's coat, like human hair, has its own texture. If you brush with the texture, it will be comfortable; if you brush against it, it will become agitated. If a horse becomes agitated, it will kick you, and don't blame me if you break a bone."

Batel took the brush and, imitating Chen Fan's technique, brushed the gray bristles one stroke at a time.

At first, he used too much force, causing Gray Mane to wag his tail wildly, so Chen Fan held his hand and corrected him several times. Gradually, the boy got the hang of it, and the brush became more and more steady in his hand. Gray Mane stopped wagging his tail and instead snorted comfortably a few times.

"Uncle Chen, did you used to raise horses?" Batel asked curiously.

Chen Fan paused for a moment, then resumed his normal movements: "I suppose so. I raised horses in the palace for a few years when I was young."

"The palace?" Batel's eyes widened. "Is it like the palace in the City of Ten Thousand Gu? My father said that city is huge, and there are strange people in it who raise insects. Uncle Chen, have you ever seen those strange people?"

"I've met you," Chen Fan replied casually, without continuing.

Seeing that he didn't want to say more, Batel didn't press him for details, but instead focused on learning how to raise horses from him.

From brushing the coat to feeding, from trimming the hooves to diagnosing diseases, Chen Fan taught him everything step by step. He wasn't teaching the methods of a cultivator to control beasts, but rather the most ordinary methods of raising horses for mortals.

When he was raising horses in the palace, an old eunuch from the Imperial Horse Stables once told him that horses are the most intelligent animals in the world; if you treat them well, they will treat you well in return.

If you mistreat it, it will mistreat you.

Raising horses is like raising people; it all comes down to sincerity. Chen Fan had kept these words in mind for decades, and now, saying them to a thirteen-year-old boy on this grassland, he found them quite fitting.

Batel learned extremely quickly.

Although the child was lively and unruly, he seemed to have a natural affinity for horses, and he could remember many things after Chen Fan only had to say them once.

In less than half a month, he was able to take care of three or four horses independently, brushing their coats, feeding them, and trimming their hooves with great skill. Even the most difficult chestnut horse became much more docile in his hands.

Batu was overjoyed and praised the outsider's excellent skills to everyone he met, saying that he had raised his son to be successful.

Another month or so passed.

The wind on the grassland is getting cooler, and the grass is starting to turn yellow; autumn is approaching.

That day, Batu came to find Chen Fan early in the morning, saying that he was going to sell lambs in a larger tribe in the north in exchange for some salt, ironware and tea.

"The Agula tribe is three days' journey from here. They have a large population and a lively market. There are merchants from the Zhao Kingdom and demonic cultivators from the Boundless Sea. If you're free, come with me."