a journey into immortal cultivation

Chapter II: Of Immortals

Chapter Two: Immortals

The cart rattled swiftly along the lane, and Wang Lin’s body swayed with the ruts and hollows of the road. Hugging the bundle in his arms, he left the mountain village where he had lived for fifteen years, carrying with him his parents’ hopes and his own tumbling thoughts.

It was a fair distance to the county seat. Wang Lin dozed off by degrees and did not know how much time had passed when a gentle push woke him. He opened his eyes to find Fourth Uncle smiling at him. Teasing, he said, “Tiezhu, first time away from home—how does it feel?”

Sensing the cart had stopped, Wang Lin gave a sheepish grin. “Not much to say—just a little scared. I don’t know if the immortals will take me in.”

Fourth Uncle laughed, clapped him on the shoulder, and said, “Enough fretting. We’re here. This is your uncle’s place—get some rest. I’ll take you to the clan estate in the morning.”

After alighting, Wang Lin saw a row of tiled houses. He followed Fourth Uncle to a room and sat on the bed, yet sleep would not come. Snatches of his parents’, neighbors’, and kin’s words flickered through his mind. He sighed to himself, and the thought of being accepted as a disciple by an immortal weighed all the heavier.

Time crept on. Before long the sky paled and the sun inched up. Though he had barely slept, Wang Lin felt strangely alert. With a trace of unease in his chest, he went with Fourth Uncle to the Wang clan’s great compound.

It was the first time he had seen a house so large—his eyes could hardly take it in. As they walked, Fourth Uncle sighed, “Tiezhu, you must win your father some honor this time. Don’t give the relatives cause to laugh.”

Wang Lin grew even more tense. He bit his lower lip and nodded.

Before long, Fourth Uncle led him into the main courtyard. Father’s elder brother—the same elder from before—stood there. At the sight of Wang Lin he gave the slightest nod. “Tiezhu,” he said, “when the immortals arrive, don’t gawk or make a fuss. Do everything as your cousin Wang Zhuo does. Watch him and follow suit—understand?”

His last words were edged with severity.

Wang Lin said nothing, glancing around. Besides Wang Zhuo there was another youth, a shade dark of skin, bull-headed and bright-eyed, whose gaze flashed with mischief. His jacket bulged as if something were hidden inside.

Catching Wang Lin’s look, the boy pulled a face, then trotted over. “You’re Second Uncle’s Tiezhu, right? I’m Wang Hao.”

Wang Lin smiled faintly and nodded.

Seeing the boy ignore him, the elder’s temper pricked; he drew breath to scold—

Suddenly the clouds above rippled. A streak of sword-light tore the sky like lightning and fell into the courtyard. When the radiance scattered, a white-robed youth stood upon the flagstones, eyes bright, bearing an air of unearthly poise. His expression was cold. His gaze skimmed over the three boys—lingering a heartbeat on the bulge beneath the clever youth’s jacket—then he said, voice like ice, “These are the three from the Wang clan?”

An immortal? At a single glance, Wang Lin felt a chill run through him. His heart hammered; the blood drained from his face as he stared, stupefied.

Even the mischievous youth had set his hands smartly at his sides and stood in rigid respect, eyes burning with fervor.

Only Wang Zhuo gave the newcomer a careless glance and snorted through his nose.

Wang Zhuo’s father hurried forward, face full of awe. “Venerated Immortal, these three are indeed those recommended by the Wang clan.”

The youth nodded, already impatient. “Which is Wang Zhuo?”

Delight flickered across the elder’s face. He tugged his son forward. “Venerated Immortal, this is my boy, Wang Zhuo.”

The youth looked Wang Zhuo over, his face easing a fraction. He nodded. “Junior Brother Wang is indeed handsome and well-formed. No wonder Uncle-Master Dao Xu favors you.”

Wang Zhuo cast a proud look at Wang Lin and the other boy. “But of course. Even Immortal Dao Xu praised my cultivation root,” he said with lofty self-satisfaction.

The youth’s brows drew together, then smoothed. With a half-smile, he flicked his sleeve. Clouds rose; mist billowed. He bore the three boys with him, turning into a long arc of rainbow light, and in an instant they were gone.

Fourth Uncle lifted his eyes to the sky and murmured, “Tiezhu—be chosen, you must be chosen…”

Wang Lin felt his body go light. A fierce gale scoured his face raw. Peering about, he started in terror to find himself tucked beneath the youth’s arm, racing through the air. The villages below had shrunk to ink-black dots that fled swiftly backward.

In moments his eyes were watering freely, reddened by the wind.

“If you three don’t want to go blind, close your eyes,” came the youth’s frosty command. Wang Lin shivered and shut his eyes at once, not daring another look. His yearning for cultivation grew all the stronger.

It wasn’t long before he felt the youth’s breathing grow a touch uneven and their speed slacken. The world lurched; in a blur they dropped. At the moment of touching down, the youth loosed his arms and the three boys tumbled to the ground.

They had not fallen hard. Scrambling up, they stared. Before Wang Lin stretched a fairyland like something outside the mortal world: green hills and clear waters, birdsong and the scent of blossoms.

Directly ahead soared a peak that stabbed into the clouds, cliffs competing in splendor, wreathed in mist so that its features could not be made out; from time to time a beast’s cry echoed down its slopes. A crooked stair of stone wound from the mountain like a painted path. The scene—bright mountains, lucid waters—breathed a sense of being cut off from all the world.

Looking far up toward the summit, Wang Lin drank it in—while beside him the dark-skinned youth muttered under his breath, “This time I’m the one who’ll be chosen!” With that, he patted the bulge hidden under his jacket.