The carriage raced swiftly along the narrow path, Wang Lin's body swaying with every rut and hollow in the road. Clutching his bundle tightly to his chest, his heart in turmoil, he carried with him his parents' hopes and expectations as he left the mountain village where he had lived for fifteen years.
The county seat was no short distance away. Wang Lin gradually drifted off to sleep, and he had no idea how much time had passed before someone gave him a gentle nudge. He opened his eyes to find Fourth Uncle watching him with a smile, teasing: "Iron Pillar, it's your first time leaving home — what do you think of it so far?"
Wang Lin noticed the carriage had come to a stop and grinned foolishly. "No particular thoughts—just a bit scared. I don't know if any immortal will take me in."
Fourth Uncle let out a hearty laugh and clapped Iron Pillar on the shoulder. "Alright, stop overthinking it," he said. "We're here — this is Fourth Uncle's place. Get some rest first; tomorrow morning I'll take you to the clan."
After stepping down from the carriage, Wang Lin found himself before a stretch of tiled-roof houses. Following his Fourth Uncle to one of the rooms, he sat on the bed, yet sleep eluded him no matter how he tried. One by one, the words of his parents, fellow villagers, and relatives flashed through his mind. He sighed quietly in his heart, and his yearning to be taken in as a disciple by an immortal grew all the stronger.
Time passed little by little. Before long, the sky began to lighten and the sun gradually rose. Although Wang Lin had barely slept through the night, his spirits were surprisingly vigorous. With a faint sense of unease, he followed his Fourth Uncle to the Wang clan's grand manor.
It was the first time Wang Lin had ever seen a house so grand—his eyes dazzled by the sight. Fourth Uncle sighed as they walked: "Iron Pillar, you must do your father proud this time. Don't give the relatives cause to laugh at us."
Wang Lin grew even more anxious inside, bit down hard on his lower lip, and gave a slight nod.
Before long, Fourth Uncle led him to the main courtyard at the center of the estate. Iron Pillar's father's eldest brother, the old man, stood waiting in the yard. Upon seeing Iron Pillar, he gave a slight nod and said, "Iron Pillar, when the Immortal arrives in a moment, don't make a scene. Just follow your brother Wang Zhuo's lead — whatever he does, you do the same. Understood!"
The last few words came out with a stern edge to the old man's voice.
Wang Lin said nothing. He glanced around and noticed that besides Wang Zhuo, there was another youth—one with slightly dark skin and a sturdy, round-faced build, a glint of shrewdness shining in his eyes. The front of his robe bulged outward, as though something had been tucked inside.
He saw Iron Pillar glance his way, made a funny face at him, then ran over and asked, "You must be Brother Iron Pillar from Second Uncle's family, right? My name is Wang Hao."
Wang Lin gave a light chuckle and nodded.
The elder noticed that Iron Pillar had simply ignored him, and a flicker of irritation stirred in his heart. He was just about to bark a reprimand.
Just then, clouds suddenly billowed across the sky as a streak of sword light split the air like lightning. When the radiance dissipated, a white-robed young man stood upon the ground. His eyes were sharp and piercing, radiating an air of elegant distinction. His expression was cold as he swept his gaze across Iron Pillar and the other two youths, pausing briefly on the bulge beneath the clever boy's garments, then said in an icy voice: "These three—they are the Wang family's three quota candidates?"
"So this is an Immortal?" Caught in the other's single glance, Wang Lin felt a chill wash through his entire body. His heart hammered wildly without stop, his young face drained of all color as he stared blankly at the figure before him.
Then there was the youth whose face wore a look of sharp cleverness — he too stood with both hands pressed to the sides of his trousers, utterly respectful, a fanatical gleam shining in his eyes.
Only Wang Zhuo cast the other person a careless glance, letting out a soft snort through his nose.
Wang Zhuo's father hurried forward, his face wreathed in deference, and spoke in a trembling voice: "Exalted Immortal, these three are the clan members recommended by the Wang family."
The young man nodded and said impatiently, "Who is Wang Zhuo?"
The old man's face lit up with joy, and he hastily pulled Wang Zhuo forward, saying, "Immortal, this is my humble son, Wang Zhuo."
The young man took a long look at Wang Zhuo, his expression softening slightly. He nodded and said, "Junior Brother Wang is indeed a man of fine bearing—no wonder Martial Uncle Daoxu has taken notice of you."
Wang Zhuo shot a smug glance at Iron Pillar and the other quick-witted youth, then declared with self-satisfied pride: "But of course — Immortal Daoxu himself couldn't stop singing the praises of this young master's spiritual root for immortal cultivation."
The young man's brow furrowed briefly, then smoothed just as quickly. He cast a half-amused glance at Wang Zhuo, flicked his sleeve, and with the three youths in tow, rose upon clouds and mist—transforming into a streak of rainbow light that vanished from the spot in an instant.
Fourth Uncle raised his head and gazed at the sky, murmuring to himself, "Iron Pillar, you have to be chosen!"
Wang Lin felt his body go weightless. A violent gale tore at his face, stinging sharply. He looked carefully—and was immediately struck with shock to find that he had somehow been tucked under the young man's arm, hurtling through the air at tremendous speed. The villages on the ground below shrank to palm-sized black specks, rushing away behind him.
In just that brief moment, the wind had already turned his eyes a burning red, tears streaming down unchecked.
"Close your eyes, all three of you—unless you want to go blind." The young man's cold voice cut through the air. Wang Lin's heart jolted; he shut his eyes at once and dared not look again. Deep within him, his yearning for cultivation burned stronger than ever.
Before long, Wang Lin could feel the young man's breathing grow labored, his speed visibly slowing. Then his vision swam—the young man plummeted swiftly downward, and at the moment of landing, he released his arms, sending the three boys crashing to the ground.
Fortunately, the impact of the fall was not severe. The three of them hurriedly scrambled to their feet, and what spread before Wang Lin was a realm like a paradise beyond the mortal world — verdant mountains and crystal waters, birdsong mingling with the fragrance of flowers.
Directly ahead stood a mountain peak that soared into the clouds. A thousand cliffs competed in their splendor, wreathed in drifting mist, their fine details impossible to discern. Every so often, the cry of some beast echoed down from above. A twisted stone-stair path wound its way down from the peak, like a scene lifted from a painting — the mountains vivid, the waters clear. A sense of being in another world rose, unhurried and profound.
Looking up from afar, atop the mountain peak stood a grand hall. Though shrouded in mist and clouds, waves of iridescent radiance flickered from within, stirring in all who beheld it an instinctive urge to kneel in reverence.
Beside the great hall, a long stone bridge jutted out like a crescent moon, stretching into the void of cloud and mist to connect with a distant mountain peak.
Such a blessed cave-heaven was naturally the site of the Hengyue Sect's mountain gate. The Hengyue Sect was one of the few cultivation sects in the Zhao Kingdom; five hundred years ago it had once dominated the entire cultivation world of Zhao, boasting several Nascent Soul old monsters among its ranks and basking in limitless glory. Yet as time wore on and one upheaval after another took its toll, that sect which had once towered as high as the heavens had, by today, dwindled to the point where it could barely keep its footing in the cultivation world.
Yet even so, to the mortals dwelling within ten thousand li in every direction, the Hengyue Sect remained something they could only gaze upon from afar — forever beyond their reach.
"Junior Brother Zhang, are these three the youths recommended by the Wang family?" A middle-aged man clad in black robes, carrying about him the faint, otherworldly air of an immortal, came drifting gracefully down from the mountain peak.
A look of reverence crossed the young man's face as he said, "Third Senior Brother, these three are precisely the ones recommended by the Wang Clan."
The middle-aged man swept his gaze across the room, letting it linger on Wang Zhuo for a few extra moments, then smiled and said: "The Sect Master knows you've reached a critical juncture in your Cultivation. He has sent me to conduct this test in his stead—go, return to your Cultivation."
The young man acknowledged the order, his body shifted, and following the mountain trail, he vanished without a trace in the blink of an eye.
Wang Lin stared blankly at the scene before him, his heart surging with emotion. He suddenly felt someone tugging at his sleeve and turned to look—it was that sharp-eyed youth, whose eyes now blazed with even greater fervor. The boy lowered his voice and said, "This is where immortals dwell. Damn it all, I, Wang Hao, will be chosen no matter what!" With that, he patted the bulging object concealed beneath his robe.