Mo Ming and his young wife returned to their seats, delighted beyond words. Unable to resist curiosity, the bride secretly opened the long wooden box for a peek. Fragrance surged out at once.
Inside lay an enormous mountain ginseng—huge, huge, far larger than anything she had ever seen.
She s*ck*d in a sharp breath, snapped the lid shut, and hugged the box to her chest as if afraid it might vanish.
One couple after another went to pay their respects to Mo Xuan. Each received a gift, and those with pregnant bellies were given an extra share. Joy spread like wildfire.
Even some long-married couples couldn't hold back anymore. They swallowed their pride and went up as well.
The clan watched in astonishment as Mo Xuan seemed like a bottomless abyss—producing gift after gift, as if his supply could never run dry.
So… this was what an Immortal was like.
At the main table, Mo Shi and Mo Tian couldn't help but feel secretly shaken.
Xuan'er had truly made it.
The old bachelors and young bachelors exchanged glances and hurried to join the line. Even the ancient, over-a-hundred-year-old diehards clenched their teeth and shamelessly queued up too.
In the end, even the little brats ran over to join the fun and received a small portion of spirit medicine.
"Don't eat it recklessly," Mo Xuan warned. "You'll get nosebleeds. Take it home and hand it to your parents."
The children agreed with their mouths, but their eyes spun with schemes. They tried to slip away the moment they turned—
Only to be intercepted by sharp-eyed adults, who coaxed the goods right out of their hands.
"We'll keep it safe for you," they said kindly, in the universal tone of adults everywhere.
Mo Xuan called out, "Little Que'er."
Mo Que'er walked over, shy and pink-cheeked.
Mo Xuan pulled out the old storage pouch he'd used before and handed it to her. "I don't need this anymore. You can have it."
Everyone stared at the plain little bag in her hands, burning with curiosity. What treasure was that?
Mo Que'er froze, then quickly bowed and thanked him.
Mo Xuan waved it off. "We're family. No need for ceremony. Go back and eat."
Mo Que'er answered softly and ran back, face glowing.
Her mother immediately leaned close and whispered, "Que'er… what is it?"
All nearby relatives pricked up their ears.
Mo Que'er stroked the pouch's silky fabric and whispered, "Mother… it should be an Immortal's storage pouch."
"A magical treasure?!"
The relatives nearby were stunned, their eyes turning red with envy as they stared at the pouch.
Mo Que'er blinked, then hugged it close and tucked it away against her body, hiding it carefully.
At Mo Xuan's table, Mo Shi and Mo Tian—his elders—had not received gifts yet, and they felt a sting of envy too. Still, the beneficiaries were their own people, and they were grinning from ear to ear.
Mo Xuan, of course, would never favor one group and neglect another.
After a few rounds of wine, he brought out the carefully prepared gifts for the elders, explaining how to use them.
They were too old to withstand strong medicine. First they needed time to nourish the foundation and stabilize their bodies—only then could they take the true elixirs and let dead wood bloom again.
When the banquet ended, every table was a glorious disaster zone. Several older women led the younger brides in cleaning: clearing tables, washing bowls, cups, chopsticks. With so many hands, it was finished quickly, and everyone returned to their homes.
The Night That Followed
Mo Ming carried a table back to his room first, impatient as a starving wolf.
He opened the small porcelain bottle, poured out a pill, and swallowed it.
At once, a warm current bloomed in his belly and spread outward. Strength surged through his limbs. His whole body felt packed with power.
He opened the long box again and stared reverently at the thousand-year ginseng inside—nearly half a meter long. His mouth watered uncontrollably.
Unable to help himself, he pinched off a tiny root hair, popped it into his mouth, and chewed.
Sweet. Surprisingly sweet.
Smacking his lips, Mo Ming dragged in a large wine jar from the next room, peeled off the seal, and soaked the entire ginseng in it. He pressed the wooden lid tight and shoved the jar into a corner, hiding it like contraband.
After washing up, he sat on the bed and waited, restless—heat crawling under his skin.
Waited.
Waited.
Finally, his wife returned.
He pounced like a ravenous beast.
"What are you doing? Let me wash my face—ah! Why are you so impatient? W–wipe out the lamp!"
The lamp went out.
Mo Ming had never felt so full of strength in his life—endless stamina, endless energy. He worked like an ox, grunting and driving forward without pause.
His young wife's long-simmering resentment dissolved in an instant. She clung to his solid waist, breathless and shaken.
In the quiet night, the Mo family's sons were vigorous and fierce—each one doing his utmost to create life.
Mo Que'er, cheeks burning, curled under her quilt—yet even that couldn't block the sounds coming from her parents' room next door. With no other choice, she covered her ears, pouted, and muttered a few complaints.
It was a sleepless night.
The fast ones lasted an hour.
The slower ones, two.
Moonlight and Homesickness
Mo Xuan had no need for sleep. He sat cross-legged on his wooden bed, meditating with a faint smile.
A night breeze pushed open the half-latched window. Moonlight spilled across the floor like frost.
Mo Xuan rose and went to the window, lifting his gaze to the three bright moons above. He sighed softly and murmured:
"Before my bed, the moonlight glows—like frost upon the ground.I lift my head to gaze at the moon,then lower it and think of home."
In a blink, more than two hundred years had passed since he came to this world.
He didn't know what had become of his home on Earth.
Two hundred years…
His parents and family there were surely long gone.
Mo Xuan shook his head with a bitter sigh. When he first arrived in this world, dazed and confused, the sight of three suns in the sky had nearly frightened him out of his wits.
He had wanted to return to Earth more than anything—but this sky was pitch-black, without a single star. It wasn't the universe he knew.
Perhaps it wasn't even the same world.
Ten years passed. Twenty.
His hope of going home had slowly faded. All he could do was accept fate and live on.
But now—
He had finally become an Immortal.
He could roam the Void, explore this mysterious, unknown cosmos.
And under moonlight, reciting poetry, he couldn't help but think again of Earth.
Mo Xuan clenched his fists.
Even if the chance was faint—as long as there was the slightest hope,he would find a way back.
Just to see home once more.
Mo Que'er, unable to sleep from all the noise, put on an outer robe and went into the courtyard for air. She stared blankly at the three moons overhead.
Mo Xuan's softly chanted poem drifted to her on the wind.
Her first thought was that it sounded plain.
But as she tasted the lines again and again, she grew entranced.
At some point, tears slid silently down her smooth, jade-like cheeks.
Night passed quietly.
Morning After
Morning came.
Three suns illuminated the land. All things woke, and people began another day of toil.
Yet the Mo clan—normally hardworking to the bone—slept in rare collective indulgence, for reasons that needed no explanation.
The first to rise were the elderly. Breathing fresh air in the courtyard, they practiced the Tai Chi Mo Xuan had tinkered together.
The women were awake too… but their bodies were soft and weak, and they couldn't climb out of bed for a while. They kept pinching the snoring husbands beside them—though never with enough strength to truly hurt.
Mo Ming stretched with great satisfaction, pulled his clingy young wife into his arms, puckered up, and went in for a kiss.
She nearly jumped out of her skin and shoved him away, grumbling, "The sun's already shining on your backside—get up! Ah—wait till tonight!"
Mo Ming groped her a few more times before laughing as he dressed. Then he asked, genuinely puzzled, "Why aren't you getting up?"
She shot him a vicious glare and huffed, "Because of you!"
Mo Ming blinked, then grinned in sudden understanding. He chuckled, fetched warm water, and personally helped her wash her face.
When she looked up and saw Mo Ming's face—somehow younger, brighter, more handsome—she froze.
She washed, dressed, slowly got out of bed, and began preparing breakfast.
Mo Ming rubbed his hands eagerly, scooped half a bowl of wine from the jar, and drank with his wife as they ate. Of course, he didn't forget the morning-and-night pill.
When they stepped into the courtyard, they found everyone looked… different.
The men were energized, faces glowing.
The women were radiant, soft and bright as spring blossoms.
They exchanged smiles, all understanding without a word.
Great — here is Chapter 10: Brimming with Vitality (Part 2), continuing seamlessly from where we left off.
Chapter 10 – Brimming with Vitality (Part 2)
Mo Xuan walked with his elder brother Mo Zhu, pushing their grandparents' wheelchair along the narrow paths between the spirit fields.
Mo Shi and his wife were smiling so widely their wrinkles seemed to smooth out. This—this was life.
Mo Xuan glanced at Mo Zhu. "Brother, your foundation is strong. Tonight, take the Rejuvenation Pill. I'll help you guide and dissolve the medicinal power."
Mo Zhu nodded eagerly. "Whatever you say, Xuan'er. Your brother listens."
Back at the house, Mo Xuan sat in the main hall and began flipping through the clan's account books—thick ledgers spanning two hundred years.
Line after line.
Year after year.
Almost entirely expenses.
Very little income.
Deficits, year after year.
The clan elders sat nearby, their gazes heavy with expectation.
For two centuries, everything they had endured—every sacrifice—had been for this day.
Human beings were not saints.
Who gives endlessly without hoping for return?
If there had been no reward, no outcome, who would have struggled like this for two hundred years?
Speak of sentiment? Hadn't so many distant relatives already cut ties?
Mo Xuan closed the final ledger and exhaled slowly.
He set the book down.
Then, without fanfare, he began placing box after box onto the tea table.
One.
Two.
Five.
Ten.
Twenty.
Soon the table was stacked high.
The elders s*ck*d in cold breaths.
Mo Xuan had already distributed so many spirit medicines the night before—yet he still had this much left?
Only when the table could hold no more did he speak calmly.
"These twenty-four portions of thousand-year spirit herbs can be sold in batches. Use the proceeds to improve the household, arrange proper marriages for our sons, and acquire additional land."
"As for the clan fields—there's no need for everyone to labor so hard anymore. Rent some of the fields out to the villagers. We can collect reasonable rent and live comfortably."
He paused, then added lightly:
"I'm an Immortal. It's inconvenient for me to handle such matters directly. Father, uncles—please discuss and manage it yourselves."
The elders nodded repeatedly.
They were business veterans. For two hundred years they had stretched every copper coin until it nearly snapped in two.
Selling all at once would crash prices.
Better to travel to distant counties, selling each portion as a "family heirloom" reluctantly parted with. A few extra trips could multiply the profit.
Mo Xuan understood the basic idea—but compared to them, he was hardly an expert.
He smiled faintly. "No need to overthink it. I still have dozens more."
Silence.
The elders nearly blacked out.
It felt as though a mountain of gold had fallen from the sky and landed squarely on their heads.
Now they truly understood what it meant:
When one person ascends to immortality, the entire family rises with them.
An Immortal working a few years in the Void could support a clan for centuries.
The Weight of Two Hundred Years
Mo Xuan's gaze softened as he looked at the elders.
He knew the truth.
In the early years, the clan had borrowed heavily.
They had boasted of his talent, of his promising future, of his teacher's favor.
"Fifty or sixty years," they had said at first.
Then "seventy or eighty."
Then "one hundred at most."
Then "surely by one hundred fifty."
After one hundred fifty years passed with no Immortal in sight, doors began closing.
Eventually, even knocking would earn a single word in reply:
"Get lost."
Thus the Mo family had endured the last decades in relative hardship. Marriage prospects stalled. Fields overworked. Pride swallowed.
And yet—
They endured.
Because somewhere in their hearts, they believed.
Now that belief stood before them in the flesh.
Mo Xuan spoke quietly.
"All debts—every single one—must be repaid. With interest."
The elders straightened.
That single sentence carried more weight than all the boxes of herbs combined.
Reputation once lost was hard to regain.
But restored properly, it could return stronger than before.
Mo Xuan continued, "Send generous gifts to those who helped us when we were desperate. As for those who turned their backs… there's no need to hold grudges. Just repay what we owe. Nothing more."
Mo Shi nodded slowly.
That was the correct way.
Dignity restored. No bitterness carried forward.
A New Chapter for the Clan
Plans formed quickly.
Part of the herbs would be sold discreetly.
Part would be stored.
Part reserved for internal use.
Marriage arrangements would be prioritized for the long-suffering bachelors.
Land purchases would be made strategically.
Fields would be rented out gradually, allowing the younger generation time to study instead of laboring from dawn to dusk.
For the first time in two centuries, the Mo family could breathe.
Not survive.
Live.
Mo Xuan leaned back slightly, watching the elders debate logistics with renewed energy. He felt a quiet warmth rise in his chest.
This was worth it.
All the years in the academy.
All the humiliation of debt.
All the grinding labor in the Void.
Worth it.
Outside, the three suns rose higher.
Villagers passing by the Mo estate sensed something had changed.
The walls were the same.
The gates unchanged.
But the atmosphere—
Different.
Light.
Steady.
As if the household had finally anchored itself to something unshakeable.
Inside the hall, Mo Xuan sat quietly.
An Immortal now.
But still a grandson.
Still a son.
Still bound by blood.
He had conquered the Void.
Now he would rebuild his roots.
And this—
This was only the beginning.