Er Leng Zi stared wide-eyed at the soot-blackened ceiling of rammed earth and straw. The quilt covering him was a deep yellow, its original color long lost to time, and it carried a faint, musty smell. Beside him, his second brother Han Zhu slept soundly, his snoring rising and falling in uneven bursts.
Half a zhang away, a wall of dried mud bore several thin cracks. Through those cracks, Han Li could hear his mother's ceaseless nagging, punctuated now and then by the rhythmic *pa-ta pa-ta* of his father drawing on his tobacco pipe.
He closed his gritty eyes, forcing himself toward sleep. He knew well that if he didn't fall asleep soon, he wouldn't rise early enough to join the other boys gathering firewood in the mountains.
Er Leng Zi's full name was Han Li—a name far too proper for his parents to have chosen. His father had traded two coarse grain buns to Uncle Zhang, the only literate man in the village, for the name. Uncle Zhang had once served as a companion to a wealthy city man's son during his studies, and he had named more than half the children in the village.
Han Li was called "Er Leng Zi" by the villagers, but he was no fool. In fact, he was the sharpest child in the village. Still, like the other children, he rarely heard anyone call him by his proper name. "Er Leng Zi" meant something like "slow-witted kid," but the nickname had stuck only because there was already a boy named "Leng Zi" in the village. It was no worse than being called "Dog Boy" or "Second Egg" like the other children. Han Li didn't like the name, but he comforted himself with that thought.
He looked like an ordinary farm boy—dark-skinned, unremarkable. But inside, he was far more mature than his peers. He had long dreamed of the rich, bustling world beyond this tiny village, the world Uncle Zhang often spoke of. He never dared tell anyone of this dream. The other boys his age were still chasing chickens and tormenting dogs; the thought of leaving home would never occur to them.
Han Li's family had seven people: his parents, two elder brothers, an elder sister, a younger sister, and himself—the fourth child. He was ten years old. Life was hard. They could barely afford meat a few times a year, always teetering on the edge of hunger.
As he drifted between waking and sleep, one thought lingered: when he climbed the mountain tomorrow, he must pick plenty of red berries for his beloved little sister.
The next day at noon, Han Li trudged home under the scorching sun, carrying a pile of firewood as tall as himself and a pouch full of berries. He had no idea that a guest had arrived at his home—a guest who would change his life forever.
The guest was his Third Uncle, a close relative. Third Uncle worked as a head steward at a tavern in a nearby town. His parents spoke of him with great respect. In a hundred years, the Han family had produced only one relative of any standing—this Third Uncle. Han Li had only met him a few times, when he was very young. It was Third Uncle who had arranged for Han Li's eldest brother to apprentice with an old blacksmith in the city—a job that provided food, lodging, and thirty copper coins a month. Once the apprenticeship was complete, the pay would be even better. Whenever his parents spoke of his eldest brother, they lit up with pride. Han Li, young as he was, envied him deeply. His own greatest ambition was to be taken on as an apprentice by a skilled craftsman in the city, to become a respectable man who lived by his trade.
So when Han Li saw Third Uncle—plump, round-faced, with a small mustache, dressed in a brand-new satin robe—he was thrilled. He put away his firewood and went to the front room to greet his uncle shyly. "Hello, Third Uncle," he said, then stood quietly to the side, listening to the adults talk.
Third Uncle smiled at him, sizing him up. He praised Han Li as "obedient" and "sensible," then turned to his parents to explain the purpose of his visit.
Han Li was young and couldn't understand everything, but he grasped the gist of it. Third Uncle's tavern belonged to a martial sect called the "Sect of Seven Mysteries." The sect had an outer and an inner division. Third Uncle had recently become an outer disciple and was now eligible to recommend children between seven and twelve for the inner disciple selection trials. The trials, held once every five years, would begin the following month. Third Uncle, a shrewd man with no children of his own, had naturally thought of Han Li.
Han Li's father, a simple and honest man, hesitated at the mention of "martial sects" and "schools of martial arts"—things he had never heard of. He picked up his pipe and took a few heavy drags, sitting in silence.
Third Uncle explained that the Sect of Seven Mysteries was the greatest sect for hundreds of miles in any direction. Inner disciples could study martial arts for free, never worry about food, and even receive more than a tael of silver each month as an allowance. Even those who failed the trials could become outer disciples, like Third Uncle himself, managing the sect's businesses.
When he heard about the silver and the chance to become a respectable man like Third Uncle, Han Li's father made up his mind. He agreed.
Third Uncle was pleased. He left a few taels of silver, telling them to feed Han Li well over the next month to build up his strength for the trials. Then he said goodbye, patted Han Li's head, and returned to the city.
Han Li didn't fully understand everything his uncle had said. But he understood that he was going to the city to earn money. His long-held dream was about to come true. He couldn't sleep for several nights, too excited.
A month later, Third Uncle returned on schedule to take Han Li away. Before he left, his father repeatedly told him to be honest, to be patient, and not to quarrel with others. His mother told him to take care of his health, to eat well and sleep well.
On the carriage, watching his parents' figures grow smaller and smaller, Han Li bit his lip, holding back the tears that threatened to spill from his eyes. He was more mature than other children his age, but he was still only ten years old. Leaving home for the first time filled him with sadness and uncertainty. Deep in his young heart, he made a silent vow: once he had earned enough money, he would come straight back and never be separated from his parents again.
He had no idea that the value of money would one day mean nothing to him. He was about to step onto a path of immortal cultivation, a path that would set him apart from ordinary mortals forever.