Chapter Two: A Once-in-a-Century Sight

Suddenly, Su Fan felt a faint warmth seep from the jade pendant in his hand into his heart. Looking down, he saw the pendant emitting a soft glow, its patterns gradually becoming clearer. The blood he had coughed up earlier had dripped onto the jade, and as Su Fan moved to wipe it away for a better look, he realized the blood was vanishing—more precisely, it was being absorbed into the pendant.

Dawn had not yet broken; the road was deserted. The gentle morning breeze brought a touch of clarity to Su Fan’s foggy mind. He rubbed his eyes, but the scene remained unchanged.

Su Fan tried to calm himself, but fear surged unbidden—after all, he was only eight years old. Suddenly, a sharp pain shot through his finger. He looked down to see a small cut open up, fresh blood quickly seeping into the jade pendant.

The pendant now glowed a brilliant red, as if it had been soaked in a pool of blood. Alarmed, Su Fan tried to throw it away, but his fingers would not obey him.

He thought, if the villagers saw this, they'd call him a monster. So, with a leap, he dove into a stack of wheat straw.

But dizziness overwhelmed him at once, and in moments, a deep drowsiness claimed him. Su Fan gritted his teeth, struggling to stay awake—he was terrified that if he slept, he might never wake again.

In the face of death, survival is an instinct. Su Fan raised his free hand and struck his own, which gripped the pendant, with all his might. In that moment between life and death, his hand happened upon a tree root.

With that final effort, his strength was spent, and he slipped into unconsciousness.

When Su Fan woke again, he was already home. Panicked, he searched for the jade pendant and found it still tightly clutched in his hand.

It was smooth and gentle to the touch, unchanged from when Old Wang had given it to him. Yet Su Fan thought the patterns on it seemed clearer, and each side bore the faint image of a strange, mythical beast.

The slanting morning sun poured through the window, and outside, Su Fan could see his mother watering the spirit herbs.

Smiling, Su Fan stepped outside. His mother shot him a glare. “Fan’er, why did I find you collapsed in the straw stack? I was fetching water by the river when I saw you, but you wouldn’t wake no matter how I called. And look—your wounds are all healed! Did you take some spirit medicine?”

Su Fan’s heart skipped. He touched his injuries—they really were gone, even the ones from the beating he’d just received. But the thought of Ergou’s face still filled him with resentment.

His mother continued, “I found a withered root of Spirit Void Grass by your hand. Maybe you absorbed its essence.”

Su Fan had thought the jade pendant was responsible, but at his mother’s words, he quietly tucked the pendant away and dismissed the idea.

He squatted down beside his mother, breathing in the fragrance of spirit herbs. In Longshi Village, some people grew spirit herbs instead of grain.

Longshi was a peculiar village, with strange soil and water. Ordinary spirit herbs would thrive just by being planted anywhere; sometimes you’d even find them growing wild along the roadside.

For example, the Spirit Void root Su Fan had grabbed by chance was a low-grade spirit herb, but valuable even in the cultivation world. If it grew for a hundred years, it could become a mid-grade herb.

Spirit Void root was rich in spiritual energy, which could be used directly by Qi Refining cultivators without needing to be refined into a pill.

Su Fan leaned closer to his mother and whispered, “Mother, when will the Immortal Sect arrive?”

She smiled. “Tomorrow, I think. They’ll be here to buy our spirit herbs, and then I’ll take you to town for a treat.”

Su Fan replied absent-mindedly and fell silent.

The Immortal Sect Su Fan referred to was actually the Tianyuan Sect on Tianyuan Mountain, a renowned cultivation sect. Because Longshi Village was well-suited for growing spirit herbs, the sect paid close attention to it—every year, they came not only to buy herbs but also to recruit promising disciples.

Now that Su Fan was fifteen, he met their requirements. The legendary immortals fascinated him, as they did everyone.

After a while, Su Fan said, “Mother, I’m going to see Old Wang.”

She turned. “Old Wang has moved away.”

Before Su Fan could ask, she continued, “He came by while you were asleep. His son is taking him to live in the city. I asked when he had a son, and he said the boy left years ago and has made his fortune in the city, so he’s taking his father to enjoy life there.”

Su Fan sighed quietly and said nothing more.

That day was bright and cloudless. Su Fan rose early, for it was the day of the Tianyuan Sect’s disciple selection.

He hadn’t slept a wink all night, dreaming of joining the Immortal Sect, escaping Ergou’s bullying, and perhaps even finding his father. The thought filled him with excitement.

The selection was held in the village square, where grain was usually dried, the air still fragrant with wheat. Three cultivators conducted the selection. The leader was a young man in green, cold and aloof, with a hint of disdain between his brows. The two behind him wore white and looked at him with respect, occasionally glancing his way.

“Su Fan? You think you’re fit for the selection?” The voice was full of contempt and unmistakably familiar—it was Ergou, who bullied Su Fan daily.

Su Fan glared at him but said nothing. Soon, hundreds of villagers had gathered in the square.

“All candidates, stand in a line before me. If you’re unqualified, take a step back. Don’t leave—the second round will be conducted by my junior,” the green-robed youth said. Though his tone was casual, his voice echoed like thunder across the square.

The villagers were amazed, and the children looked on with envy. Even the arrogant Ergou was wide-eyed with wonder.

The green-robed youth smiled slightly, clearly pleased with the effect.

Fifteen children participated—nine boys, six girls. Su Fan stood among them, trembling with nerves, but when Ergou caught his eye, anger quickly replaced his anxiety.

The young man in green approached and lightly grasped the first boy’s arm. The boy’s eyes went briefly blank, then returned to normal.

“Unqualified,” the youth said in a flat voice, moving to the next.

The rejected boy suddenly looked dazed and soon collapsed. The green-robed man said coldly, “He’s excused from the second round.” With a wave of his sleeve, a breeze carried the boy out of the line.

“Unqualified,” he repeated.

Next was Su Fan. Not one had passed so far, and fear gripped him, but he forced himself to remain calm.

The young man glanced at Su Fan. “Don’t be nervous,” he said coldly.

He grasped Su Fan’s wrist. A wave of warmth surged up Su Fan’s arm, as if it would flood his whole body—but suddenly, the sensation stopped.

The green-robed youth looked truly astonished and tried again, but the result was the same.

He looked hard at Su Fan, suppressing a smile. “Unqualified. No need for the second round. Your body is one in a hundred years—incapable of cultivation, unable to absorb even a trace of spiritual energy.”

With those words, he could no longer hold back his laughter. Su Fan, however, stood quietly to the side, silent.

Realizing his lapse, the green-robed youth quickly composed himself and moved on.

Next was Ergou. The youth grasped his wrist, and Ergou grinned obsequiously. After a moment, the youth began to say, “Un—” but before he could finish, Ergou produced a yellow pill from his pocket and handed it to him. The youth’s eyes flashed with understanding. “What’s your name? You’re qualified,” he said with a smile.

Ergou was overjoyed. “My name is Ergou!” he announced, and shot a triumphant glare at the disappointed Su Fan.

Su Fan saw it all, and tears stung his eyes. He ran home, past the watching villagers whose faces were all filled with scorn.

The green-robed youth smiled. “Ergou, will you take me as your master?”

“I will!” Ergou replied, dropping to his knees. “Disciple greets Master!”

“Very good. Go pack your things—you’ll come with me to the sect and meet the sect leader.”

The selection soon ended. After two rounds, only three were accepted. Their names held no interest for Su Fan—everyone in the village would soon know, since it had been years since anyone had passed.

Su Fan curled up by his bed, weeping quietly. His mother sat beside him and said softly, “Fan’er, it’s alright. If you can’t be an immortal, we’ll go to the academy and you can earn honors there. That’s good, too.”

Su Fan cried on, his dreams of immortality shattered, though bitterness still filled his heart. After a long while, he whispered, “Mother, take me to the academy tomorrow.”

She smiled. “I’ve heard the Qingzhu Academy in town is very good. I’ll take you there tomorrow.”

Su Fan nodded and said nothing more.