Er Lengzi’s eyes were wide open, staring blankly at the black roof made of thatch and mud. The old quilt covering him had turned a deep yellow, its original color long gone, and it faintly emitted a musty smell.
Lying close beside him was his second brother, Han Zhu, who was fast asleep and snoring rhythmically with varying intensity.
About half a zhang away from the bed was a wall made of yellow mud. Over time, a few inconspicuous cracks had appeared, and from these fissures came the faint, nagging complaints of Han Li’s mother, occasionally punctuated by the “puff-puff” sound of his father smoking a dry tobacco pipe.
Han Li slowly closed his already tired eyes, forcing himself to fall into a deep sleep. He knew very well that if he didn’t sleep soon, he wouldn’t be able to wake up early the next day to gather dry firewood in the mountains with his friends.
Han Li’s full name was Han Li—a proper-sounding name that his parents couldn’t have come up with on their own. His father had paid Old Zhang, a villager, two coarse grain buns to choose the name for him.
In his youth, Old Zhang had served as a study companion for a wealthy family in the city and was the only literate person in the village. He had named more than half of the children in the village.
Though Han Li was called “Er Lengzi” (Second Fool) by the villagers, he was far from foolish. In fact, he was one of the smartest children in the village. But like other village kids, aside from his family, hardly anyone addressed him by his real name. “Er Lengzi” had stuck with him since childhood.
The nickname came about simply because there was already a child in the village called “Lengzi” (Fool). It wasn’t a big deal—other village children were called names like “Dog Boy” or “Second Egg,” which weren’t any better than “Er Lengzi.”
Although Han Li didn’t like the nickname, he could only comfort himself with this thought.
Outwardly, Han Li was unremarkable—with dark skin, he looked like any ordinary farm boy. But inside, he was far more mature than his peers. From a young age, he had yearned for the richness and bustle of the outside world, dreaming of one day leaving his small village to see the world Old Zhang often spoke about.
Of course, Han Li never dared to share this dream with anyone. The villagers would have been shocked that a young boy harbored such ambitious thoughts—thoughts even adults seldom entertained. Most children his age were still chasing chickens and dogs around the village, let alone dreaming of leaving their hometown.
Han Li’s family had seven members: his parents, two older brothers, an older sister, and a younger sister. He was the fourth child and had just turned ten. Life was hard—they could rarely afford meat, and the family hovered on the edge of poverty.
As Han Li drifted in and out of sleep, one thought lingered in his mind: he must gather plenty of red berries for his beloved younger sister when he went up the mountain.
The next afternoon, as Han Li hurried home under the scorching sun with a bundle of firewood half his height and a pouch full of berries, he had no idea that a guest had arrived—one who would change his destiny.
This guest was a close relative—his third uncle.
It was said that his third uncle worked as a manager at a restaurant in a nearby town and was considered a capable man by his parents. In fact, he was the only relative of some status the Han family had produced in nearly a hundred years.
Han Li had only met his third uncle a few times when he was very young. It was this uncle who had helped his eldest brother secure an apprenticeship with an old blacksmith in the city. His third uncle often sent food and supplies to the family, showing them great kindness. Though his parents never said it aloud, Han Li knew they were deeply grateful.
His eldest brother was the pride of the family. Not only did his apprenticeship provide food and lodging, but he also earned thirty copper coins a month. Once he became a full-fledged blacksmith, he would earn even more.
Whenever his parents spoke of his eldest brother, their faces lit up with pride. Though young, Han Li admired his brother and dreamed of one day being taken on as an apprentice by a skilled craftsman in the city, becoming a respectable tradesman.
So when Han Li saw his third uncle—dressed in sleek satin clothes, with a round, plump face and a small mustache—he was thrilled.
After storing the firewood behind the house, Han Li shyly greeted his uncle, obediently called out “Hello, Third Uncle,” and stood quietly to the side, listening to the adults talk.
His third uncle smiled, looked Han Li over, and praised him for being “well-behaved” and “sensible.” Then, he turned to Han Li’s parents to explain the purpose of his visit.
Though still young and unable to fully grasp everything, Han Li understood the gist of it.
His third uncle worked at a restaurant owned by a martial arts sect called the “Seven Mysteries Sect.” The sect had an inner circle and an outer circle. Not long ago, his third uncle had officially become an outer disciple and now had the privilege of recommending children aged seven to twelve to take the test for inner disciples.
The Seven Mysteries Sect held inner disciple trials once every five years, and the next one was scheduled for the following month. Being shrewd and childless himself, his third uncle naturally thought of Han Li.
Han Li’s father, a simple and honest man, hesitated upon hearing unfamiliar terms like “martial world” and “sects.” He picked up his tobacco pipe, took a few deep puffs, and sat in silence.
According to his third uncle, the Seven Mysteries Sect was one of the most prestigious sects within a radius of several hundred li. Becoming an inner disciple meant free martial arts training, food, and lodging, plus a monthly allowance of over one tael of silver. Even those who failed the test could still become outer disciples like his third uncle, managing the sect’s business affairs.
When Han Li’s father heard about the monthly silver and the chance for Han Li to become a respectable man like his third uncle, he finally agreed.
Pleased with the decision, his third uncle left a few taels of silver, saying he would return in a month to take Han Li away. He advised Han Li’s parents to feed him well during this time to strengthen him for the test. After bidding farewell and patting Han Li’s head, his third uncle left for the city.
Though Han Li didn’t fully understand everything, he knew it meant going to the city to earn good money. The prospect of his long-cherished dream coming true excited him so much that he couldn’t sleep for several nights.
A month later, his third uncle returned to the village to take Han Li away. Before leaving, Han Li’s father repeatedly reminded him to be honest, tolerant, and avoid conflicts. His mother urged him to take care of his health and eat well.
As the carriage moved away, Han Li watched his parents’ figures grow distant. He bit his lip, fighting back tears.
Though more mature than most children his age, he was still only ten years old. Leaving home for the first time filled him with sadness and uncertainty. In his young heart, he vowed to return as soon as he made enough money and never part from his parents again.
Little did Han Li know that the pursuit of wealth would soon lose its meaning to him. Instead, he would embark on an extraordinary path—a path of immortality, far removed from the ordinary lives of mortals.
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