The Daoist stood alone in the sky, clad in robes of colorful clouds, more radiant than the clouds themselves. The mountains beneath his feet seemed no more than insignificant mounds of sand. Suddenly, melancholy swept over him.
Five dreams in a strange book, ascending through Heaven's Gate; from then on, no more worldly suffering.
A hundred years spent rushing about, only yellow sand to bury white bones.
A lonely traveler in this mortal world, but where should I return after riding the clouds?
Climbing Mount Sumeru alone, so small; a speck between heaven and earth, alone beneath colorful clouds.
He recalled his life and gave a bitter smile. “Had I known a dream was only a dream, I'd have spent this life beside a lonely grave.”
Immortal, True Man, Saint: are they not all inhuman?
Chen Beidang didn't know.
