Er Lengzi stared wide-eyed, his gaze fixed on the black ceiling formed from thatched straw and packed mud. The old quilt draped over him had long since turned a deep yellow, its original color impossible to discern, and it gave off a faint, musty smell from time to time.
Lying right beside him was his second brother, Han Zhu, fast asleep and snoring away in contentment, the sound rising and falling in irregular waves.
About half a zhang from the bed stood a wall of packed yellow earth. Years of wear had split it with several thin, inconspicuous cracks, and through those crevices drifted the muffled sound of Mother Han's nagging complaints, occasionally punctuated by the clacking sound of Father Han drawing on his dry tobacco pipe.
Er Lengzi slowly closed his slightly stinging eyes, forcing himself to slip into deep sleep as quickly as possible. He knew full well that if he didn't settle down soon, he wouldn't be able to wake early enough tomorrow to head into the mountains with the other kids they'd arranged to meet — to gather dry firewood together.
Er Lengzi's real name was Han Li. It was the kind of proper-sounding name his parents could never have come up with on their own. His father had traded two coarse grain buns to Uncle Zhang in the village to get it.
Uncle Zhang had spent several years as a study companion to a wealthy family in the city when he was young, making him the only person in the village who could read a few characters. More than half the children in the village owed their names to him.
Though Han Li was called "Er Lengzi" by the villagers, he wasn't actually dim-witted or foolish at all. In fact, he was the smartest kid in the village by a wide margin. But like the other village children, apart from his own family, he rarely heard anyone address him by his proper name, "Han Li." The nickname "Er Lengzi" had stuck with him from the start and never let go.
The reason he'd been given the nickname was simple enough: there was already a child in the village called "Lengzi," so he became "Er Lengzi" — "the Second Lengzi," so to speak.
It wasn't a big deal, really. The other village kids went by names like "Doggy" and "Second Egg," and those weren't exactly any more flattering than "Er Lengzi."
So even though Han Li didn't particularly like the name, he could only console himself and accept it as best he could.
Han Li's appearance was thoroughly unremarkable — dark skin, the very picture of an ordinary farmer's child. But deep inside, he was far more mature than others his age. Ever since he was little, he had yearned for the prosperity and bustle of the outside world, dreaming that one day he might leave this tiny village and see the wider world that Uncle Zhang was always talking about.
Han Li had never dared share this dream with anyone. If he had, it would surely have stunned the villagers — a snot-nosed brat harboring an idea that even adults wouldn't dare entertain. The other children his age were still running around the village chasing chickens and catching dogs; the notion of leaving one's homeland behind would have seemed utterly preposterous.
Han Li's family numbered seven — two older brothers, an older sister, and a younger sister. He was the fourth child and had just turned ten. Life for the family was hard. They seldom ate a meal with meat in it, even once, and the whole family hovered perpetually on the line between hunger and enough.
At this moment, Han Li hovered in a drowsy half-sleep, a thought still lingering in his muddled mind: when he went up the mountain, he had to pick plenty of red berries for his little sister — her favorite kind.
By noon the next day, Han Li was trudging home from the mountains with the scorching sun beating down on him. He carried a bundle of firewood nearly as tall as himself on his back and a cloth bag stuffed full of berries cradled against his chest. What he did not know was that a visitor had already arrived at his house — one who would change the entire course of his life.
This important guest was a close blood relative of his: his own Third Uncle.
Third Uncle worked as the head manager at a tavern in a nearby small town, and was what Han Li's parents called a man of real ability. The Han family had probably produced no relative of any standing in nearly a hundred years — except for Third Uncle.
Han Li had only met Third Uncle a few times when he was very young. It was Third Uncle who had arranged for his eldest brother to apprentice with an old blacksmith in the city. Third Uncle also regularly sent someone to bring food and daily necessities to their parents, looking after the family quite thoughtfully. So Han Li had a very favorable impression of his uncle and knew that even if his parents never said so aloud, they were deeply grateful.
The eldest brother was the pride of the family. Being a blacksmith's apprentice, he was told, not only came with food and board but also thirty copper coins a month. Once he finished his apprenticeship and was formally hired, he would earn even more.
Whenever Father and Mother Han brought up their eldest son, they would light up with excitement, as though they were different people entirely. Though young, Han Li envied him greatly, and the best job he could imagine had long since taken shape in his mind: to be taken on as an apprentice by some skilled craftsman in a small city, and from that day forward become a respectable man who made his living by his trade.
So when Han Li saw Third Uncle — dressed in brand-new satin clothes, with a round, plump face and a little tuft of a mustache — his heart was absolutely racing with excitement.
After setting the firewood down behind the house, he went to the front room and shyly greeted Third Uncle, politely saying, "Hello, Third Uncle." Then he stood obediently to one side, listening as his parents chatted with their visitor.
Third Uncle regarded Han Li with a warm smile, looked him over, and praised him with a few remarks about being "well-behaved" and "sensible." Then he turned to his parents and explained the reason for his visit.
Though Han Li was still too young to follow every word, he grasped the general idea.
It turned out that the tavern where Third Uncle worked belonged to a martial-arts sect called the Seven Mysteries Sect. The sect had both an Outer Sect and an Inner Sect, and not long ago, Third Uncle had formally become an Outer Sect Disciple. Among other privileges, this meant he could recommend children between the ages of seven and twelve to take the examination for recruitment as Inner Sect Disciples.
The Seven Mysteries Sect held its Inner Sect recruitment test once every five years, and it was set to begin next month. Third Uncle — shrewd enough and childless himself — naturally thought of Han Li, who was just the right age.
Father Han, an honest and simple man to the core, heard talk of "martial arts" and "sects" — things he'd never encountered before — and grew uncertain and indecisive. He snatched up his pipe, drew on it hard several times with a clack-clack sound, then sat there in silence.
In Third Uncle's telling, the Seven Mysteries Sect was naturally one of the preeminent and most formidable sects within several hundred li.
Becoming an Inner Sect Disciple meant not only free martial-arts training and unlimited food going forward, but also a monthly allowance of over one tael of loose silver for spending money. And even those who took the test but failed to be selected could still become Outer Sect members like Third Uncle, handling the sect's affairs beyond its walls.
When Father Han heard there was the possibility of over a tael of silver each month, and the chance to become a man of standing like Third Uncle, he finally made up his mind and agreed.
Third Uncle was very pleased to hear his brother's assent. He left behind several taels of silver and said he would come to collect Han Li in one month. In the meantime, the family should prepare good meals for Han Li to build up his strength for the examination. After exchanging a few more words with Father Han, Third Uncle patted Han Li on the head and headed back to the city.
Though Han Li didn't fully understand everything Third Uncle had said, the part about going to the city and earning big money he understood perfectly.
His long-held dream was suddenly on the verge of becoming reality, and for several nights in a row, he was far too excited to fall asleep.
True to his word, Third Uncle arrived at the village just over a month later to take Han Li away. Before leaving, Father Han urged his son repeatedly: be honest, be patient when things go wrong, and don't get into conflicts with anyone. Mother Han told him to take care of his health, eat well, and sleep well.
Sitting in the cart and watching his parents' figures grow smaller and smaller in the distance, Han Li clenched his teeth, forcing back the tears that welled up in his eyes.
He may have been more mature than other children since early on, but he was still only a ten-year-old boy. Leaving home for the first time filled his young heart with sadness and uncertainty. Deep inside, he made a silent vow: once he had earned enough money, he would come right back, and never be parted from his parents again.
Han Li never could have imagined that after leaving home, the amount of money he earned would become irrelevant to him. Instead, he would set foot on the Great Path of Immortal Cultivation — a road entirely different from the one walked by ordinary mortals — and embark upon his own Path of Cultivating Immortality.