Immortal Tang Dynasty of Prosperity
[Entry for the "Glorious Tang Era" division of the 2018 Creation History Literary Contest] Legend has it that in the Tang Dynasty, there existed a unique kind of people, capable of healing the sick, exorcising demons, and attaining immortality. They were revered by common folk as Onmyoji. In the first year of Zhenguan, the boundaries between yin and yang blurred, and demons prowled the land. The newly enthroned Emperor Taizong, besides overseeing the Six Ministries, established a secret agency with the aim of eradicating all sects in the realm. Yet, even the emperor sought immortality, and countless others coveted the throne. Powers from every corner converged upon Chang’an, where undercurrents surged and the winds of change swept the city… Lu Xin, only nine years old, unexpectedly traveled back to the Tang Dynasty while returning home for ancestral rites. Weak and powerless, how could he survive? Amidst an age of chaos, how would he, step by step, rise to the pinnacle, unravel the mysteries of his journey through time, and shatter the legend of immortality?
Immortal Tang Dynasty of Prosperity
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Spring 2018, Qingming Festival, a light rain.
Just after 7 a.m., a fleet of cars arrived at a remote village in the southwest of Zhejiang. All the vehicles were luxurious—Range Rover SUVs, Porsche crossovers, and even the most elite supercars. The village folk, unaccustomed to such sights, looked on with curiosity.
Such a scene was not something you could see in just any village. Even the most sheltered locals knew that ordinary families couldn’t afford so many luxury cars.
“Uncle Seven, look at these rich folks—wherever they go, it’s all pomp and splendor, drawing everyone’s eyes. They really know how to live. If only our family’s ancestral tomb could bring some luck, so I could splash around a few million for a day—even just one day would make life worth it.”
Inside a small convenience store at the village entrance, a young man in his early twenties bit into an ice pop, clicking his tongue as he watched the procession. Behind the counter sat an elderly man with gray hair, who glanced at the cars before returning to his newspaper.
“Eating ice so early in the year? I’m warning you, those ice pops are leftovers from last year. If you get a stomachache, don’t blame me.”
“Uncle Seven, you don’t need to worry. They’re still seven days from expiry. Anyway, you won’t sell them, so I’ll just finish them off and save you the trouble of throwing them out.”
The young man patted his leather jacket, grinning mischievously, and reached into the freezer for another ice pop. The old man shook his head in resignation but said
