Striving for Immortality

Cultivators were strange beings. They grasped at the threads of fate as if death were just a suggestion, siphoned the essence of heaven and earth to stretch their lives, and refined the very elements around them for strength and protection. Dangerous? Absolutely. Fascinating? Even more so. Far north in Muyun Prefecture, a jagged mountain called Tianjue Peak jutted into the sky like a dark tooth. Every cultivator who tried to scale it whispered of death, and most didn’t make it back. At the base of this beast of a mountain lay a small, quiet place: Little Stone Village. The name made sense—every home was built from stone, simple and sturdy. Old legends said immortal descendants founded it, retreating from endless ambition for a life of peace. Over centuries, though, that history faded. No immortals remained, only ordinary humans. Now, the village was home to around forty families, living quietly off fertile fields and occasional trades with nearby Huílóng Town. Simple, slow, content. Evening. East of the village, in a tangle of trees and undergrowth, five scrappy kids crouched, their clothes rough and patched. They were hunting—or at least trying to. In the center, a boy held a rope tied to a stick, which propped up a sieve. Bits of rice scattered beneath it. A wild chicken eyed the grains cautiously, then stepped under the trap. The boy jerked the rope. The stick toppled. The sieve dropped. Caught. “Wow! We got it! Twelve, you’re amazing!” “Twelve-gege, when I grow up, I’m marrying you!” “Twelve, my mom says immortals are coming to Huílóng Town soon! You might actually become one!” Twelve—Su Twelve—rolled his eyes and laughed. “Don’t be ridiculous, fatty. You can’t even count to three. Think becoming an immortal disciple is that easy? And why bother? Isn’t it better to stay here with Grandpa?” He shooed them away, grinning. “Alright, little suck-ups, I’ve shown you the trick. Go play.” He lifted the chicken from the sieve and started toward the riverbank. Clever, sharp-tongued, quick to learn—Su Twelve had been living with his grandfather since childhood, and naturally, the kids looked to him as their leader. At the river, he bled and plucked the chicken with practiced ease. From a hidden drawer at home, he produced a battered, fist-sized miniature alchemy furnace. Opening it, he pinched a bit of salt stored inside and rubbed it between his fingers before sprinkling it over the cleaned bird. Then, he wrapped it in lotus leaves and smeared it with mud. The furnace was unusual—three-legged, round-bellied, patterned with beasts and birds. Not metal, not stone, not jade, not wood. Fire couldn’t touch it. Water couldn’t harm it. Blades couldn’t scratch it. Once, by accident, Su Twelve discovered the salt inside enhanced food. Meals seasoned with it became fragrant, crisp, and somehow cleared your mind, sharpened your thoughts. His grandfather, Su Mingren, always warned him to leave it alone. But Su Twelve was… persistent. This time, though, he had good intentions. “Heh… Grandpa’s never had chicken like this. Once he tastes it, he won’t forbid me anymore!” Then came the voice that froze him in place. “Old man? Who are you calling old man?!” Heart leaping, Su Twelve whirled. There was his grandfather, white-haired and fierce, hands clasped behind his back with a stick hidden there. “Of course I meant… Grandpa! Wait—old man?! What are you doing here?!” Su Twelve stammered, nearly dropping the chicken. “You dare call me old man again? Have all the classics I taught you slipped from your brain?!” Su Mingren’s beard bristled. “How many times have I told you: that furnace—never touch it! You dug it up again, rascal! Today, I’ll beat you half to death!” Quick as ever, Su Twelve shoved the furnace back in his pocket and bolted. “Grandpa! I was roasting chicken for you! How is that unfair?!” “Unfair? I raised you, boy!” Su Mingren bellowed, chasing him with the stick. “I forgive you for stealing chickens, climbing roofs—but that furnace? You just can’t leave it alone!” “It’s a family heirloom! Sooner or later, it’ll be mine anyway. What’s the difference if I use it now?” “You—! If I don’t beat you today, you’ll never learn!” Before he could continue, villagers screamed. “Look! Someone’s flying!” “Is that… an Immortal?!” All eyes turned skyward. A black-robed figure glided down, leaving a gleaming arc in the air. Dread radiated from him like heat from a fire. Su Mingren’s face went pale. He shoved Su Twelve into a haystack. “Twelve! Do not come out. No matter what, understand?” Su Twelve nodded, silent. The figure landed, shrouded in black qi, robes swirling as though alive. His voice cut through the night. “Who is Su Mingren?!” Su Mingren steadied himself. They were here for the furnace, no doubt. “I am Su Mingren,” he said, hiding his fear. “Why do you seek me, Honored Immortal?” “Hand over the treasure furnace—or die!” Gasps ran through the crowd. “I… I don’t know what you mean,” Su Mingren lied, barely holding his composure. A flick of the Immortal’s hand sent Su Mingren crashing to the ground. Bones cracked. “Old wretch, don’t toy with me. Hand it over—or the village dies.” The villagers panicked, shouting to give him the furnace. But Su Mingren gritted his teeth. He would not betray his grandson. The Immortal’s sword spun through the air, summoning skull-shaped phantoms. Screams pierced the night. Blood ran freely. Little Stone Village, once peaceful, was no more. In the haystack, Su Twelve clutched the furnace, frozen in horror, tears stinging his eyes. When the c*****e ended, the black-robed man returned to Su Mingren. He severed his arm, then pierced his heart. The old man fell silently. Su Twelve’s chest ached. The world felt like it had shattered. He fainted. The Immortal ransacked the village but found nothing else. By dawn, cursing, he vanished. When Su Twelve awoke, drenched in sweat, the village lay in ruin—blood on the stones, bodies everywhere. The nightmare had not ended. Not even close.