Dongting Immortal Clan

Yunmeng County was much larger than Chen Xiaohu had imagined.

The farthest place he had ever been in his life was Qingxi Town, near Baiyukou. The most magnificent building in the town was the Zhou Family Ancestral Hall, with three courtyards and three entrances, and blue bricks and gray tiles. But compared to the tall city wall in front of him, it was nothing.

The city wall is three zhang high, with bluish-gray bricks stacked tightly together, the gaps filled with white lime, making it look very sturdy.

The city gate was more than ten feet wide, enough for two horse-drawn carriages to walk side by side.

People lined up to enter the city, some carrying loads, some pushing carts, some leading oxen, and some carrying children.

It was bustling with activity and filled with the noise of people.

The guards wore faded red jackets, their hands on their waist knives, their eyes coldly sweeping over the crowd of people, occasionally reaching out to stop one or two and questioning them.

Chen Chuansheng left his oxcart at the inn at the city gate, paid three coins for storage, and then led his two sons on foot into the city.

He wasn't walking fast.

Firstly, my body hasn't fully recovered yet, and the wound on my leg is still throbbing.

Secondly, he didn't want people to realize they were from the countryside, since things were different now; his family was a family of cultivators.

Yunmeng County is eighty miles away from Baiyukou by mountain road. The last time he set foot here was when he was a boy, coming here with a faint hope to try his luck with the immortals.

Unexpectedly, now it's time to send Hu'er to a celestial sect for cultivation.

Chen Dajiang didn't care about any of that.

He followed behind his father, his gaze calm and wary as he surveyed the people around him.

Having experienced that life-or-death struggle in the lake, he was much bolder than before. After his cultivation, he seemed to have gained wisdom and could no longer be called dull, but rather insightful.

The city's prosperity was like duckweed on a lake to him—it looked nice, but he knew it didn't belong to him.

Chen Xiaohu walked at the back, his eyes constantly scanning the surroundings.

The bright red candied hawthorn skewers, the fabrics printed with twining flowers spread out in the general store, and the storyteller's gavel striking loudly in the teahouse all made him pause in his tracks.

It wasn't until Chen Dajiang turned around and silently tugged at his sleeve that he snapped out of his daze and smiled sheepishly.

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

Qingzhu Bieyuan is located in the east of the city.

The alley is quiet and secluded, with lush bamboo groves lining both sides, their verdant greenness almost overflowing.

At the entrance of the alley stands a half-person-high blue stone tablet inscribed with the four characters "Qingzhu Bieyuan" (Green Bamboo Courtyard). The strokes are as sharp as if carved by a sword and axe, exuding an imposing aura.

Chen Chuansheng was illiterate, but upon seeing the stone tablet, he felt at ease and knew he had come to the right place.

The courtyard was small, with a black lacquered wooden door and a brass door knocker that was polished to a shine.

Chen Dajiang stepped forward and knocked on the door knocker. The door opened quickly, and it was Shen Congyun, who had visited the Chen family before, who opened the door.

"Come in."

"Uncle Zhou and Uncle Lu have been waiting for you for quite a while."

Shen Congyun stepped aside and led them inside.

The courtyard was much larger than it appeared from the outside. It was paved with blue bricks, and several old pine trees were planted in the four corners. In the middle of the courtyard was a rockery, and a pool of clear water was drawn from the bottom of the rockery. Several koi carp were slowly swaying their tails.

A plaque hangs above the main house door, with the same calligraphy as the inscription on the stele.

"Uncle-Master, Chen Xiaohu has arrived."

Shen Congyun respectfully announced the news at the door.

Zhou Yan was already sitting in the hall, holding a cup of tea, talking to someone.

The man was about forty years old, tall, wearing a gray-blue Taoist robe, his hair tied up with a wooden hairpin, with a square face and an air of authority between his brows.

He simply sat there, yet his aura was far more profound than Zhou Yan's, like a towering mountain.

"They're here."

Zhou Yan put down his teacup and nodded slightly to Chen Chuansheng.

"This is Steward Lu Tianming from the sect's Internal Affairs Hall, who is in charge of receiving new disciples."

"Deacon Lu will make arrangements for Xiaohu's future."

Chen Chuansheng immediately knelt down with his two sons to pay their respects.

Lu Tianming slightly raised his hand, his gaze already fixed on Chen Xiaohu, scanning him from head to toe.

That gaze was different from Zhou Yan's calm one; it carried a scrutinizing intent, as if trying to determine whether Chen Xiaohu was truly worthy of being taken to the Immortal Sect.

"Have you shed your wooden form?"

Lu Tianming asked the question in a steady, unwavering voice.

"Reporting to Steward Lu, the wooden body has been removed."

Chen Xiaohu knelt on the ground and answered respectfully.

Lu Tianming extended two fingers and placed them on Chen Xiaohu's wrist pulse. He closed his eyes and concentrated for a moment before opening them and nodding slightly.

"The foundation is still acceptable."

"It is magic power refined with the essence of the moon. It took thirty-six strands to break free from the wooden body. He is not greedy for quick success and his temperament is quite calm."

He withdrew his hand, took out a two-finger-wide white jade token from his sleeve, and handed it over.

"This is the identity token for an inner sect disciple; a drop of blood is all it takes to recognize its master."

"From this day forward, you will be a disciple of my Purple Furnace Mountain."

Chen Xiaohu accepted the token with both hands; it was warm to the touch.

He bit his index finger, squeezing out a drop of bright red blood onto the jade. The blood quickly seeped in, and the surface of the token emitted a faint white light. Soon, it returned to its original state.

At the same time, he suddenly felt a heat between his brows, as if an invisible thread was connecting him to the token.

"I'll tell you about the sect's rules along the way."

Lu Tianming stood up and straightened his sleeves.

"My Taixu Sect is located in the Xuanqing Mountains, the original sect of the ancient Taixuan Holy Land. It is a full eight thousand miles away from here. Even with the speed of my Void-Breaking Flying Boat, it would take a whole day."

"Pack your things quickly, and come back to the sect with me today."

The Chen family members were taken aback, not expecting that they had set off so early.

Chen Xiaohu subconsciously turned to look at his father.

Chen Chuansheng's lips trembled a few times, his Adam's apple bobbed, but he ultimately didn't say anything.

Chen Dajiang didn't say anything, but his face was taut, clearly showing some reluctance.

Lu Tianming frowned slightly.

Seeing this, Zhou Yan gently chimed in:

"Brother Chen, the sect has its own rules. New disciples must complete the initiation ceremony as soon as possible and be taught the fundamental teachings upon entering the mountain."

"If you miss it, you'll have to wait another month."

"Once Xiaohu has settled down in the mountains, he can travel with his family through the sect's channels. When he has achieved success in his cultivation, he can also apply to return home to visit. It's not like he'll never come back."

Chen Chuansheng opened his mouth, but swallowed back the words that were about to rise in his throat.

He took half a step back and bowed deeply to Lu Tianming:

"In that case... I'll have to trouble you, Immortal Master."

After the others left, Chen Xiaohu still had some time to say goodbye to his father and elder brother.

Shen Congyun led him to a side room, where Chen Chuansheng placed his bag in his hands. Inside were only some clothes, dry food, and a Taoist book that he had held since childhood.

The father and his two sons exchanged a few more words, then Shen Congyun knocked on the door from the outside and said softly:

"It's time to set off."

Chen Xiaohu followed him out of the house.

The two left the villa, walked through the quiet bamboo alley, passed through the still bustling streets, exited the city gate, and arrived at the ferry.

A small, covered boat was already waiting there, with a small blue flag planted at the bow bearing the words "Tai Xu".

Lu Tianming stood with his hands behind his back at the bow of the boat, the hem of his Taoist robe fluttering slightly in the wind.

On the boat, there were already three young people, two boys and one girl, all of whom were beautiful and extraordinary.

"My child... has gone to the immortal sect. Cultivate diligently and take care of yourself."

Chen Chuansheng stood on the shore, watching his youngest son board the boat. His lips trembled a few times, but he could only utter one sentence.

The small boat slowly left the shore, but instead of going with the current, it rose into the air and gradually left the river surface.

"He's an immortal!"

On the shore, some people noticed the commotion and rushed over to watch, some bowing and some praying.

Chen Xiaohu stood at the stern of the boat and looked down, only to find that her father's body was becoming more and more hunched.

Soon, the outlines of my father and elder brother became blurred, like two ants mixed in with a swarm of ants, and eventually, they merged into the magnificent ancient city.

He turned to look ahead, where the sky and earth were a deep blue, and the mountains and rivers were as dark as ink.

A chill ran through the body, making one's heart tremble.

"Go home."

Chen Chuansheng said in a hoarse voice.

"Mm," Chen Dajiang replied.

"You're great too," Chen Chuansheng said again, in a very low voice.

Chen Dajiang hummed in agreement again, and silently tightened his grip on his father's hand.

The father and son fell silent, passing through the city gate, walking through the streets, and returning to the inn, where they retrieved the oxcart and harnessed it.

The old ox pulled the cart, its wheels grinding over the gravel on the official road, making a monotonous and long "creaking" sound.

Chen Chuansheng leaned against the car floor with his eyes closed, as if he were asleep.

Chen Dajiang sat on the cart shaft, holding the whip, his gaze fixed on the winding dirt road ahead of the oxcart, disappearing into the shadows of the mountains.