The Humble Gate Enters the Sect

It was late spring, and the long bluestone steps outside the Ziyang Sect's mountain gate were being scorched by the warm, radiant sun.

Shen Hao stood at the foot of the steps with a worn, coarse-cloth bag on his back, unable to help but raise a hand to wipe the sweat from his brow. A breeze rolled in from the mountains, carrying the fresh scent of vegetation and Spiritual Energy, stirring the tips of his hair. He hailed from Green Ox Village, a remote hamlet over a hundred miles from the Ziyang Sect. The village's hundred or so households were all farmers who spent their days facing the earth and their backs to the sky; they knew nothing of cultivating immortality or seeking the Dao, and few had even set foot in the county seat.

Had an Outer Sect Deacon of the Ziyang Sect not passed through Green Ox Village three months ago and discovered he possessed Three Spiritual Roots, Shen Hao would likely still be in the fields tending to crops with his parents.

"Next, Shen Hao!"

The clear voice of the Outer Sect Disciple in charge of reception interrupted his thoughts. He hurriedly clutched his identification papers and strode to the Spirit Testing Pillar. The pillar was entirely translucent white, about the height of a man, and covered in mysterious carvings that were currently emitting a faint, spiritual glow.

"Place your palm on it and calm your mind." The disciple urged impatiently.

Shen Hao followed instructions. The moment his palm touched the Spirit Testing Pillar, a cool sensation spread from his fingertips. He held his breath, feeling three weak yet distinct currents of energy within him slowly converging toward his palm. A moment later, three rays of light—cyan, yellow, and crimson—flared on the pillar, corresponding to his Wood, Earth, and Fire Spiritual Roots.

"Three Spiritual Roots, Low-grade Talent." The disciple glanced at him, made a casual mark in the registry, and said in a flat tone, "Go over there to collect your Outer Sect Disciple robes and token. From now on, you will live in Room C, number three."

Shen Hao nodded repeatedly in thanks, accepting the gray disciple robes, a wooden token engraved with the characters "Shen Hao," and a thin booklet. The cover of the booklet read Ziyang Outer Sect Basic Qi Cultivation Art; it was the introductory cultivation method for Outer Sect Disciples.

He followed the crowd into the mountain. Along the way, he saw many boys and girls dressed in the same gray robes, some excited, others anxious. As one of the premier sects in the southern part of the Eastern Profound Continent, the Ziyang Sect had thousands of Outer Sect Disciples and hundreds of Inner Sect Disciples, while Core Disciples were as rare as phoenix feathers and unicorn horns.

The Room C quarters were a row of simple wooden huts with a small clearing in front, just large enough for two people to practice swordplay. Shen Hao pushed open the door to the third room, and a damp, musty scent rushed out to meet him. The interior was sparsely furnished: a wooden bed, a dilapidated table, and nothing else.

He placed his bag on the bed, carefully held the Ziyang Outer Sect Basic Qi Cultivation Art in his hands, and sat at the table to study it. The handwriting in the booklet was neat, and the opening passage detailed the essence of the Breathing Technique: "Work at sunrise, rest at sunset; draw the Spiritual Energy of heaven and earth into the body, circulate it through the Meridians for three cycles, and return it to the Sea of Qi..."

Shen Hao became so engrossed that he only snapped back to reality when the sky outside the window began to darken. Following the instructions in the booklet, he sat cross-legged on the bed, closed his eyes, and calmed his mind.

At first, he felt only the silence of his surroundings, his own heartbeat audible in the stillness. He did not know how much time had passed before he felt a faint, elusive current of air lingering near his nose. He tried to guide it according to the manual, but the current was like a mischievous child; the moment it touched his fingertips, it vanished without a trace.

Once, twice, three times...

Shen Hao did not lose heart. Having grown up farming with his parents, he understood the value of practice making perfect. He did not know how many times he had tried, but when the first wisp of faint Spiritual Energy finally flowed through his Meridians and into his Sea of Qi, an indescribable sense of comfort swept through his entire body.

He snapped his eyes open, his gaze filled with joy.

Outside the window, the moon hung high in the sky, casting silver light across the sill. Shen Hao clenched his fists and swore to himself: from this day forward, he would carve out his own path of immortality within the Ziyang Sect.