Chapter 5

Chapter 5: What She Saw and Heard

Her fingertip brushed the icy water. The silver fish didn’t lunge, but it didn’t flee either. It circled warily, inching closer as if testing Zhao Chun’s finger.

Zhao Chun’s brows knit. She nudged the water again, and the fish shot straight at her—needle teeth pricking her skin. A sharp sting, and then it tore away with a single mouthful of blood.

Only then did the tightness in her chest ease.

The boy watched the strange scene without a word. He glanced at Zhao Chun once or twice, questions plain in his eyes, but he didn’t speak. He only drew the jade basin back and dipped his head to the robed Daoist.

“Hm. Another with immortal fate. What’s your name?”

Zhao Chun lowered her gaze, curling her throbbing fingertip into her fist. The rush of joy had already settled into something steadier. “My name is Zhao Chun. Greetings, Immortal Master.”

The robed Daoist studied her—neither servile nor arrogant, her manners measured—and gave a brief hum. “Steady. Go sit.”

Zhao Chun took the only empty seat beside the only girl who’d been chosen so far. The girl offered a shy smile. “My name is Zhou Pian Ran. Pian Ran as in ‘a small boat rides the wind and drifts away.’”

Her face was round and luminous, her features delicate. When she smiled, her eyes curved like crescent moons, and warmth seemed to come easily to her.

“My name is Zhao Chun,” Zhao Chun said. “The chun from watercress.”

“Oh! I heard Immortal Master ask your name and thought it was the chun that means ‘pure,’” Zhou Pian Ran said, brightening. “So it’s this chun instead.

“Spring watercress grows lush; autumn watercress is lovely too. Either way, it’s a good name.”

Zhao Chun could tell at once she was a well-bred young lady. Every word was gentle; every gesture composed.

There were only the two of them among the chosen. Zhou Pian Ran clung to Zhao Chun like she’d found her only ally. “I’m eleven. What about you?”

“I turned ten two months ago.”

Zhou Pian Ran’s eyes lit. “Then you were born in March! Me too—so I’m exactly a year older.”

Zhao Chun wasn’t talkative. Zhou Pian Ran asked; Zhao Chun answered. Between their quiet back-and-forth, Zhao Chun pieced together the identities of the other candidates at the front.

As for the last one, he wore a gold-inlaid jade longevity pendant at his throat, with white jade bracelets on both arms. Broad forehead, thick nose—features that screamed wealth and self-importance. He spoke to no one, chin lifted as if the table itself owed him deference.

Zhou Pian Ran had been chosen before him and had heard his answer when the robed Daoist asked his name. “Surname Xie, given name Bao Guang.”

“At first I didn’t know which bao or which guang,” Zhou Pian Ran whispered. “Then he walked over, and the moment I saw him… I knew exactly which Bao Guang it was.”

Zhao Chun gave a small nod. With all that glittering jewelry, the name fit far too well.

While they spoke, the second round ended. There weren’t many people left behind Zhao Chun to begin with, and no one else produced any sign. She became the last one selected.

Ten seats had been prepared. Only six were filled.

Wang Chu Yan had no immortal fate. She stood behind the boy, hovering like a shadow, not daring to sit.

The robed Daoist swept his gaze over the empty places, his expression sour.

“Immortal fate is rare,” a man in dark robes and a crown said smoothly. He wore the formal attire of Chu Kingdom’s ruler. “The fact that anyone was chosen at all is no small thing. Please, Immortal Master, set your mind at ease.”

“Your Majesty has labored greatly for this selection,” the robed Daoist replied. “This poor Daoist will report to the sect. Before long, generous rewards will be bestowed.”

At the mention of rewards, the ruler didn’t look the least bit embarrassed. His eyes crinkled with pleasure as he clapped. “Good! Excellent!”

He waved an attendant forward. “Send word: in every commandery and county where someone was chosen, all officials are promoted by one rank. The chosen child’s family will be granted Grandee status and rewarded with good farmland, gold, and silver, to show our favor.”

Chu Kingdom followed a military merit-rank system. Its people were fierce by custom.

Yet when the ruler broke old rules to curry favor with immortals, the ministers below remained perfectly composed, as if this were the most natural thing in the world.

Zhao Chun understood why. Once power reached a certain height, others couldn’t even muster the will to oppose it.

Like the old tale of calling a deer a horse—when someone with absolute authority spoke, their words became truth.

“There are still many matters to settle,” the robed Daoist said. “I must take them back to the temple and make arrangements. I’ll take my leave.”

The ruler rose on shaking legs, cupped his hands, and smiled wide. “Safe travels, Immortal Master!”

The robed Daoist flicked his whisk. The Wang Family boy gestured for the six chosen to come forward.

Liu Zi Yi moved first, quick as a sparrow and twice as slippery. He hurried to stand behind the boy. The rest fell in line behind him.

Peng Zheng and Zhang Ming Zhan kept their mouths shut. Xie Bao Guang’s lips twitched as if he wanted to say something, but with no one else speaking, he didn’t dare stir trouble in front of Immortal Master. Scowling, he took his place farther back.

Zhao Chun and Zhou Pian Ran stayed at the end, uninterested in jockeying for position.

Wang Chu Yan, meanwhile, stood awkwardly—too close behind Zhao Chun and Zhou Pian Ran felt wrong, but standing beside Liu Zi Yi felt worse.

“Take it,” the boy said.

He handed her the jade basin. Wang Chu Yan snatched it up and hurried to stand behind his left shoulder.

The moment the basin left the boy’s hands, its luster vanished. In the blink of an eye, it became an ordinary stone basin. The onlookers gasped again.

Only then did Zhao Chun understand why the boy—despite being the robed Daoist’s senior brother—was doing work that looked like a servant’s. The silver fish clearly wasn’t ordinary. In a normal attendant’s hands, it couldn’t display its power.

Sure enough, the fish thrashed a few times, flipped belly-up, and went still.

They followed the robed Daoist forward. With a hand seal, wind seemed to gather under their feet. A single step carried them more than ten meters. In a few breaths, they stood before the temple gates.

There was no plaque above the entrance. To the right stood a white stone stele, painted with four bold characters: Ling Zhen Sect Daoist Temple.

Zhao Chun looked a beat too long and felt a sharp, stabbing pain at her Sun Ga Te acupoint. When she tore her gaze away, the pain vanished at once.

Others fared even worse. Hands flew up to cover eyes. No one dared look again.

“The inscription holds spirit,” the robed Daoist said calmly. “Mortals cannot stare at it for long.

“Once you draw qi into your bodies, you’ll be considered people of the Dao. Then these few words will be nothing.”

As he spoke, he led them inside.

Wang Chu Yan wasn’t allowed into the main hall. The moment she crossed the threshold, a young Daoist approached and guided her away.

Zhao Chun and the others entered the grand hall. A red-crowned white crane, as tall as two people, stood to the left. To the right loomed an ink-black Black Tortoise. They guarded the incense table at the center, where eleven jade statues sat in solemn array. On the wall hung a long scroll painting of six seated men and women—faces blurred beyond recognition.

The robed Daoist bowed toward the incense table, then turned to them. “My name is Cao Wen Guan. I am an Outer Sect steward of the Ling Zhen Sect in Heng Yun World. You may call me Steward Cao.

“Our Ling Zhen Sect has stood for over two thousand years. Our teachings were passed down from Patriarch Wei Ye, the Supreme Most Holy Daoist. The sect now has thirty thousand disciples.

“This Small World has been lost and drifting for a long time. Elder Wu of our sect found it again and sent stewards to select disciples. You have passed two rounds. You truly possess spirit roots. You may become preparatory disciples. In one month, a senior from the sect will come to guide you to Heng Yun World.”

The children listened, stunned. Heng Yun World. Ling Zhen Sect. Patriarch Wei Ye. Spirit roots. Small Worlds lost and recovered—every word felt like a door opening to something too vast to grasp.

Zhao Chun had read stories like this in her past life. Even then, there were theories about layered worlds. She could, at least, sketch the shape of the idea.

As for spirit roots, she’d heard rumors—fewer was better—but whether it meant the same thing here, she couldn’t be sure.

Steward Cao went on. “I know you have questions. I’ll explain Heng Yun World, spirit roots, and the path of cultivation first. Then you may ask what you like.”

He spoke of the Three Thousand Worlds: the Great Thousand World, the Middle Thousand World, and the Minor Thousand World, together called the Three Thousand Worlds. Heng Yun World, he said, was a Minor Thousand World containing one thousand Small Worlds. Long ago, a great calamity had struck, and many Small Worlds were lost. This world was one of them.

The Middle Thousand World and Great Thousand World were realms for great experts—too distant for people like them.

Then he explained spirit roots: five elements, and fewer was better. Four and five spirit roots were “false spirit roots.” A single spirit root was best and was called a heavenly spirit root.

Finally he described the first steps of cultivation: drawing heaven-and-earth spiritual qi into the body. Meridians. Acupoints. Upper and lower dantians. Only after circulating qi to cleanse meridians and open the acupoints could one truly begin the path.

He finished and looked over them. “All right. Questions?”

Xie Bao Guang spoke up at once. “Then what spirit roots do we have?”

“I cannot test that here,” Steward Cao said. “You must return to the sect and view the Spirit-Illuminating Screen Wall. Only then will you know.”

Peng Zheng stepped forward, voice cautious. “May I ask, Steward Cao—what is a preparatory disciple?”

“The sect is divided into Inner Sect and Outer Sect,” Steward Cao replied. “In the Outer Sect, every disciple must first be a preparatory disciple.

“You have five years. If, after five years, your meridians and acupoints are still not fully opened, you must leave Heng Yun World and return to this Small World.”

He explained more rules and arrangements, then led them in formal bows.

“The six in the painting are past sect masters. Disciples, step forward and bow.”

“The eleven jade statues are the founding elders. Disciples, bow again.”

“With this, you have entered the sect as preparatory disciples of the Ling Zhen Sect. I now bestow upon you the Scripture of True Sensory Insight. Cultivate diligently and enter the Dao as soon as possible.”

Zhao Chun received a small booklet like the others.

Steward Cao added, “The Scripture of True Sensory Insight is an orthodox qi-drawing method in Heng Yun World.

“This Small World’s spiritual qi is thin and difficult to draw. The sect grants you the method early so you can memorize the meridian routes and acupoint positions, making future practice easier.”

The children bowed and answered obediently.

Then Steward Cao called the Wang Family boy forward. “This is Wang Fang. He entered the sect a year before you and has already drawn qi into his body in Heng Yun World. He is here to assist me. You may call him Senior Brother.”

Zhao Chun remembered Wang Fang addressing Steward Cao as senior brother earlier. Confused, she asked, “Steward Cao, during the second selection I heard Senior Brother Wang call you Senior Brother. Why is that?”

“Wang Fang and I are both disciples of Elder Qi in the Outer Sect,” Steward Cao said. “Within the same master’s line, we are senior and junior brothers.

“You call him Senior Brother because you are Outer Sect disciples, and his cultivation is higher than yours.”

Zhao Chun nodded and thanked him.

Zhang Ming Zhan asked, “Steward Cao, are you the abbot here?”

Steward Cao shook his head. “I am not. The abbot is also a disciple of the sect. His surname is Liang, and you must call him Senior Brother as well.

“He oversees the temple’s chores and manages your daily life for this month.”

He glanced around. When no one spoke again, he dismissed them to settle in.

As they turned to go, he added, “Cultivation depends on the individual. For this month, I won’t interfere with where you go. Whether you play or train hard has nothing to do with me.

“It is like this here, and even more so once you enter the sect.

“The road ahead depends on what choices you make.”

Zhao Chun tightened her grip on the Scripture of True Sensory Insight. She already knew what she wanted.

This world was broader than anything she’d ever imagined. If she couldn’t go and see it, what was the point of living again?