Reincarnation (Happy New Year!)

"Hoo..."

Fang Qing exhaled a long breath, gazing up at the bright moon hanging in the firmament, his expression somewhat dazed.

Although the moon was still the same moon, it seemed he had... transmigrated!

He truly didn't know where to begin. He remembered his past life hadn't been marked by any stroke of great luck; it seemed to be just an ordinary night of sleep. One moment he closed his eyes, the next he opened them, and he had arrived inside the body of this fifteen or sixteen-year-old youth.

"No... not soul possession, but more like... reincarnation? Did I just break through the mystery of the womb?"

"What is this? No great fortune delivered to my door, yet I transmigrate across the nine heavens while asleep?"

The youth's face was blank. He rubbed his temples, and memories of the past dozen years surfaced in his mind, along with an instinctive grasp of his mother tongue.

The Land of Ancient Shu, Ba Commandery, the Ba language...

Natural disasters, man-made calamities, displacement, Old Uncle...

At the thought of Old Uncle, a face etched with deep furrows, eyes dull and lifeless all day long, yet occasionally revealing the cunning peculiar to an old farmer, appeared before him. It was truly right in front of him!

"Lad, are you alright?"

Old Uncle, who had been leading the way, turned around, his gaze filled with a hint of worry.

Their hometown had been devastated, nine out of ten clansmen lost, and this was the only seedling left.

"Old Uncle... I'm fine."

Fang Qing fell silent as a segment of memory emerged.

The mountain valley where his family had lived for years, "Three-Water Hollow," had been struck by a sudden plague this year. He had become an orphan and was now fleeing with Old Uncle.

If this were an ordinary ancient fantasy world, a refugee start might be miserable, but there would seem to be a path to rebellion, right?

But based on my shallow knowledge, the vast majority of ancient peasant uprisings are just cannon fodder paving the way for kings. One must wait for the minor landlords and scholars to join before it can become a real movement...

Fang Qing silently grumbled to himself. Fortunately, he possessed the memories and managed to mumble a few words, and Old Uncle didn't notice anything amiss.

The two fell into silence again, and by the moonlight, they arrived at the side of a stream.

The moonlight was hazy, and the stream gurgled like a belt of jade.

"Old Uncle, what are we doing?"

Fang Qing reached the water's edge. The early summer stream was still icy, faintly reflecting a youth in hempen clothes with a dusty, gray face. Only his eyes were bright and spirited, like the finishing touch on a painting.

He had gradually come to understand his situation, but he didn't know why Old Uncle had secretly led him away from the main group tonight.

Hmm, gathering together while fleeing a plague, and the key is that no one in the group is actually sick. That's very strange...

Fang Qing, possessing modern knowledge of hygiene, felt suspicious.

"What would you know?"

Old Uncle gave a proud smile, though his expression soon turned somber. "We fled from a plague-ridden land. Even if we reach Heavenly Prefectural City, I fear they won't take us in... We have to scrape together some travel funds. With money in hand, there is no panic in the heart."

Fang Qing was speechless for a moment; reality was ten or a hundred times darker than he had imagined.

Once, he thought that escaping the plague-ridden land was a stroke of luck, even if it meant selling himself to a wealthy family as a tenant farmer, at least he would have food to eat.

But he had forgotten... this was an era where one couldn't even become a slave if one wanted to. Even if they wanted to sell themselves, there might not be anyone willing to take them.

Moreover, if one had a choice, who would want to kneel and be a servant?

"So..."

Fang Qing looked at Old Uncle, his eyes brightening.

His memories had been clouded before, and he had been delirious from a severe illness, so he hadn't paid much attention.

Now it seemed that the foundation of his family was likely mostly with Old Uncle. He truly lived up to the saying that the old are... ahem, that sort of thing...

Under the moonlight, he saw Old Uncle take a bundle from his bosom with great care. After opening the bundle, there was another layer of floral cloth, tied with countless knots.

Only when Old Uncle piously unfolded it did Fang Qing see that it was a... book?

"Is this... the calendar enshrined in the ancestral hall?"

Fang Qing recognized it. Although this book was mostly tattered, it had always been enshrined at the highest point of the Fang Family ancestral hall, and he saw it every year during the ancestor worship.

In his memories, whenever a major event occurred, the clansmen would come to the ancestral hall, and the old clan leader would reverently bring out this worn-out book to consult it...

Thinking of those faces in his memory, Fang Qing felt a pang of pain in his heart, feeling somewhat despondent...

"What calendar? Bah... this is the Immortal Calendar! Do you understand, the Immortal Calendar?!"

Old Uncle spat, as if the old clan leader had possessed him, and reverently opened the "immortal object" in his hands.

Fang Qing leaned in, grateful that he was literate. This was a big deal; literacy rates in ancient times were generally low. If he were literate, he could find work in the city as an accountant or clerk, and at least he wouldn't starve.

He glanced at it and saw that although the pages were old, they were very flat, clearly cherished by each successive owner.

On the title page, there was a line of neat, orderly characters:

"The abundance or famine of the years, the movement of spiritual atmosphere, the transmutation of yin and yang—these are all but the trivial achievements of the Year Guardian..."

"[Year Guardian]?"

Fang Qing's heart stirred. When he was part of the situation, he hadn't felt anything, but looking at it now, he felt that every word seemed to carry great terror, revealing some secret of the world.

The night was quiet, save for the rustling of Old Uncle turning the pages.

"Found it!"

Suddenly, his expression turned joyful as he pointed to a page. "Lad, look... the clan leader was my uncle, and I saw him make a mark on this page with my own eyes back then, fearing he would forget!"

Old Uncle's tone was somewhat proud. "Our Fang family was able to occupy 'Three-Water Hollow' because we have a foundation!"

Fang Qing understood only half of it. The clan did seem relatively well-off, actually allowing children of the right age, like himself, to attend a village school to learn to read. That investment was significant; old farmers facing the yellow earth and backing the sky couldn't possibly afford it on those few thin acres of land, so there must have been other sources of income?

It's likely a craft passed down from men to women... and it's actually recorded in the book? Old Uncle wants to use it to make money?

Hmm, it really is the foundation of a clan...

Fang Qing glanced at it and read: "In the 8,412th year of the Near-Ancient era, Kangjin holds the year. The 14th day of the fifth month, favorable for dragon and snake, suitable for travel, breakthrough, Qi-Gathering... This?"

He was shocked. This page was written in a calendar format, and he recognized all these characters, but why did they seem incomprehensible when put together?

Could it be... cultivation? Is there really an immortal in this world?

Fang Qing's heart burned.

"Don't look at those words, they are from a hundred years ago. Look at what the descendants added!"

Old Uncle prompted.

Fang Qing nodded. Sure enough, in the margins of this page, he saw a few more lines of ink: "...Take an ancient blade or sword, and on the night of the full moon, immerse it in the stream. Recite the 'Seven-Character Secret Incantation', and you can obtain a wisp of 'Moonlit Flow'... A hundred wisps make a thread, a hundred threads make a Dao..."

"Not bad, not bad. This is our Fang family's secret Qi-Gathering Formula. This formula is only passed down to the clan leader. If their whole family hadn't died in the plague, it wouldn't have been our turn."

Old Uncle was beaming. "Our old Fang family also had an immortal affinity. A hundred years ago, we were taught the Qi-Gathering method by an immortal. Every year, we offered a few blades or swords containing 'Moonlit Flow', and the rewards were incredibly generous. Unfortunately, I didn't know the Seven-Character Secret... and it only works on this one day."

He sighed, took the ring-pommel saber he had kept by his side all this time from his waist, and prepared to immerse it in the stream.

"So... this is a calendar from a hundred years ago? It's been expired for a hundred years, big brother!"

A sense of absurdity rose in Fang Qing's heart. "Is it still useful?"

"What big brother? I am your Old Uncle!!" Old Uncle glared. "Besides, what's a hundred years? The sun rises in the east and sets in the west, and the twelve [Year Guardians] govern the months. These are things that have been the same since ancient times and won't change in a thousand or ten thousand years... The old clan leader did it on this day every year, it can't be wrong!"

While reciting the true incantation, he piously immersed the saber into the stream.

Whether it was an illusion or not, Fang Qing seemed to see wisps of flowing light gathering on the blade, like human meridians.

"Haha... it's done."

He didn't know how much time had passed, but just as Fang Qing's feet were getting sore, he saw Old Uncle lift the rusted, mottled ancient saber, his face full of joy. "If I take this to the Luo Family, it will sell for at least ten or eight taels..."

"So that's one wisp of Moonlit Flow gathered? Why not gather more? Or even gather a hundred wisps to refine into a thread, or even ten thousand wisps to make a Dao?"

Fang Qing was somewhat surprised.

"It won't work. This Qi-Gathering consumes earth energy and spiritual charm... it takes a year or so to recover after one time."

Old Uncle shook his head. "We used to occupy Three-Water Hollow, which had three streams, and we only produced three pieces a year... let alone gathering a thread or a Dao?"

He looked at Fang Qing and sneered, handing him the saber. "Everyone knows that immortals cultivate by Qi Ingestion, but you have no magic power... even if I put it in front of you, would you know how to 'Harmonize Qi'? Even if you finally synthesized a strand of 'True Qi', could you gather it?"

No magic power? Then you can't harmonize Qi? Old Uncle, tell me more about the immortals. Are there really immortals? Fang Qing's heart grew more confused, while he secretly marveled that Old Uncle was indeed as experienced as rumored.

"Of course there are. I even know the first realm of an immortal, which is 'Qi Ingestion'!" Old Uncle gave a proud smile, then turned somber. "Lad, take my advice. Immortal affinity is hard to come by... Although our family has an ancestral Qi-Gathering method, without an immortal's intervention, it is impossible to synthesize a strand of true 'Qi' and use it to step into the Qi Ingestion realm... The artifacts we get each year can only be sold."

In other words... to cultivate, one must ingest Qi, but true 'Qi' can only be processed into a finished product by a practitioner?

Fang Qing guessed to himself, To step into the threshold of cultivation, not to mention the question of whether there is a threshold for aptitude, and not mentioning the cultivation techniques, the most important 'strand of True Qi' is enough to stump many people...

He was speechless. Without magic power, you can't synthesize true 'Qi'. Without 'Qi', you can't step into cultivation and refine magic power... Isn't this a self-defeating cycle?

According to his experience with novels from his past life, shouldn't immortal cultivation be a widely circulated technique that anyone with a spiritual root could practice? Why was it so troublesome? Had it become a Möbius strip problem of which came first, the chicken or the egg?

Fang Qing shook his head, deciding to ignore these for now. "Then, did our Fang family ancestors ever become immortals?"

"Of course... they didn't."

Old Uncle shook his head. "That ancestor is said to have lived for two sixty-year cycles and died of old age; he wasn't a cultivator either..."

Looking at it this way, what our family gets can't even be considered immortal affinity; at most, we are just beasts of burden under the immortals...

Fang Qing was speechless. Isn't this just a modern wage slave? Eating grass and producing milk.

"You can't say it like that..."

Old Uncle also seemed somewhat conflicted. "Sigh... at least our family gets some income, and there are quite a few gains every year..."

Fang Qing touched the hard object in his chest, his heart burning with heat. I must embark on the path of cultivation, see this higher scenery, and even... see the secret of the [Year Guardians]!

Since he had arrived in a supernatural world, how could he not pursue longevity?

Undoubtedly, if the Qi Ingestion realm was just the beginning, the twelve Year Guardians must have already become "immortals" to remain prosperous for so long!

Fang Qing immediately felt he had gained a grand goal.

"[Kangjin]? A title for a Year Guardian?"

He was still a mere mortal, yet he knew the name of a great immortal being, even if it was just an epithet.

But thinking about it, it felt inexplicably reasonable.

After all, he couldn't name many governors in the Eagle Nation, but he certainly knew who the president was; the logic held up just the same.

Just then, a sudden change occurred!

"Over here!"

Accompanied by a shout, a flurry of chaotic footsteps approached rapidly.

"Damn it, it's that mangy dog Ma Laosan!"

Old Uncle's expression shifted: "That damned old geezer, he's been tailing your old man this whole time!"

He drew his blade, turned around, and took off at a sprint: "We're outnumbered, split up and run!"