The Story

Han Yundao and Duan Anle waited until daybreak before they saw the three elders push open the door and come out. They bowed respectfully.

Seeing that none of the three elders looked well, the two stood together in a corner, not daring to speak.

"That settles it. We'll talk again when I return from this trip. Second Brother, if you have nothing else to do, head back to Xuanwei City soon. It won't look good to Master Qi if you stay on leave too long."

Kang Dabao gave these quiet instructions to his two junior brothers, and Yuan Jin and Jiang Qing returned to their respective rooms, their minds heavy with worry. For now, nothing more need be said of them.

"Come inside." When Kang Dabao had spoken, the wooden door of the sect master's cloud chamber opened without a breeze. He went in with his hands behind his back, and his two disciples followed close behind and shut the door.

"Sit." The so-called sect master's cloud chamber was so bare that it did not have a single spare meditation cushion.

The two disciples sat upright before Kang Dabao, with hard gray bricks beneath their knees, their still-growing bodies held ramrod straight.

The white-armored tortoise also ambled out of Kang Dabao's sleeve. Borrowing Kang Dabao's might like a fox in a tiger's skin, he sat down in front of him and tilted his head, putting on airs as he looked at the two disciples.

"I won't test your lessons today. Have you memorized the Great Wei Compendium I passed on to you last month?"

Both children nodded and replied that they had.

"Anle, how vast does the book say heaven and earth are?"

"Master, heaven and earth are divided into countless worlds: three thousand great realms, a hundred thousand middle realms, and an endless number of small worlds."

"Then which small world are we in?"

"The Crimson Heaven Realm."

"What powers are there?"

"The Crimson Heaven Realm has four powers guarding the east, south, west, and north: the Luminous Dharma Sect, the Ghost King Temple, the Heavenly King Church, and Void-Soaring Mountain, respectively.

"Below them are one hundred and eight grotto-heavens and blessed lands, and eight hundred immortal mountains.

"The Great Wei Immortal Dynasty is a small power under Bitter Spirit Mountain, one of the eight hundred immortal mountains. The dynasty itself also has countless sects."

"And what about our Chongming Sect?"

"Well..." Duan Anle paused. He was an honest child, and for a moment he did not know how to answer a question the book did not cover.

"Master," Han Yundao, standing beside him, said after catching Kang Dabao's signal,

"The highest cultivation of any cultivator in our sect today is only at the middle stage of Qi Refinement. Our founding patriarch has passed away, and we have not produced a Foundation Establishment cultivator in a hundred years. That is why our sect has not been entered in the immortal dynasty's golden register of sects."

"Correct. You must remember that our Chongming Sect is only a small sect struggling to survive in a barren part of the immortal dynasty.

"Don't let becoming what your clansmen call extraordinary 'immortal masters' make you arrogant and conceited.

"You should know that even your master, after more than thirty years of cultivation, is only at the middle stage of Qi Refinement.

"In the eyes of mortals, I am naturally a 'terrestrial immortal.' But in truth, even if I, this so-called sect master, were merely to meet a disciple of a major sect listed in the immortal dynasty's golden register, I would be no more than an insect to them.

"If you are arrogant and behave without knowing your limits, offending a formidable figure can easily bring disaster upon your lineage and sect.

"The path of immortal cultivation is immensely arduous. There is no telling how many hardships and perils will appear along it.

"But the first thing you must remember is never to lose your sense of awe on the path of cultivation."

Kang Dabao nodded. He was not angry at Han Yundao's blunt words.

Even when he spoke of how weak his own sect was, there was not a trace of shame on his fat face. He still wore an open, natural expression.

Both disciples solemnly acknowledged his words.

Kang Dabao asked again, "What are the eight realms of immortal cultivation?"

"Qi Refinement, Foundation Establishment, Golden Core, Nascent Soul, Spirit Transformation, Separation and Reunion, Profound Insight, and Mahayana."

"How many grades are cultivation methods divided into?"

"Eight tiers and thirty-two grades. The eight tiers are Heaven, Earth, Mystic, Yellow, Universe, Cosmos, Primordial, and Desolate. Each has four grades: supreme, upper, middle, and lower."

"How many kinds of spirit roots are there?"

"Heavenly Spirit Root, Single Spirit Root, Dual Spirit Root, Triple Spirit Root, Mixed Spirit Root, and False Spirit Root."

By this point in his questioning, Kang Dabao could see that both of his young disciples had become somewhat dejected.

He knew they were thinking of how vast the world described in the book was and had realized how small they themselves were. It was unavoidable.

"Your disciple is dull-witted. Not only is my aptitude poor, I don't even know when I'll manage Drawing Spirit into the Body. I've failed to live up to your teaching, Master."

Duan Anle was an honest child. Whether from dejection or embarrassment, he lowered his head. Han Yundao, though he said nothing, was also downcast and silent.

Though Drawing Spirit into the Body was the threshold separating immortals from mortals, it was not particularly difficult for people who possessed spirit roots.

Even with Kang Dabao's limited knowledge, he could readily name several kinds of pills and spiritual objects that could greatly shorten the time needed to pass this threshold.

Alas, the Chongming Sect had long since fallen on hard times. Even when Sect Leader Kang Da was young, the sect had not had the means to purchase such spirit medicines for new disciples, much less now.

Thus, Duan Anle and Han Yundao could only follow the old method, using what low-grade spirit medicines Kang Dabao could still afford to temper their flesh, bones, and meridians. Depending on their individual aptitude, they would train for two or three years, wearing through stone as water droplets did.

Only when their breathing exercises drew the first wisp of spiritual power into their Dantian and sent it circulating through the greater and lesser celestial circuits throughout their bodies would they truly shed their mortal flesh and be called cultivators.

Strictly speaking, this method was not without its merits.

At the very least, it tempered the disciples' minds, and the benefits of strengthening their muscles and bones were considerable. By the end, they could even tear tigers and leopards apart with their bare hands.

But given a choice, what direct disciple of a major sect would be willing to squander those years for such benefits?

"Don't lose heart. Though you possess only mixed spirit roots, that is already a fortuitous opportunity found in only one in ten thousand.

"Although you still have to work your way through the threshold of Drawing Spirit into the Body, as long as you are steadfast enough, becoming a true cultivator will happen as naturally as a channel forms where water flows.

"That alone is enough to make the tens of thousands of mortals under the Chongming Sect's protection envy you." Kang Dabao began by comforting them.

Then he added, "An immortal root is, in the end, only the foundation for attaining the Dao. Doesn't the Great Wei Compendium contain many examples of seniors who attained great Divine Abilities despite poor aptitude?

"Even the founding ruler of the Great Wei Immortal Dynasty had only a false spirit root, yet he became a great Spirit Transformation cultivator and founded the dynasty's legacy of ten thousand generations.

"Heaven does not fail those who persevere. As long as your hearts remain steadfast in pursuit of the Dao, you too will achieve something."

When teaching disciples, one naturally chose encouraging things to say. In more than thirty years of cultivation, Kang Dabao had heard others say such things countless times.

But judging by the experience of the sect's elders before him, a cultivator with a mixed spirit root would be considered fast to reach the late stage of Qi Refinement by the age of eighty.

Then again, what was the point of cultivating immortality at eighty? While one's body was still hale, wouldn't it be better to find a few young women and have some children?

The sensible thing was to raise a cultivator descendant early, someone who could safeguard one's wealth and status after one was gone.

"Although you have only been disciples for half a year, both your families have produced Chongming Sect cultivators in the past. You should naturally know the importance of Drawing Spirit into the Body, so you must be more diligent in your martial training and scripture recitation.

"When it comes to Drawing Spirit into the Body, those with good aptitude are naturally faster. Those with poorer aptitude may be slower, but they need to build a solid foundation."

"That's all for today. Go on, and don't be late for your morning lessons."

Having coaxed some color back into the little faces of his still somewhat bewildered disciples, Kang Dabao waved a hand, opened the door, and sent them off to the scripture room to recite.

He had to do his morning practice too. Although the bottleneck at the fourth level of Qi Refinement had not budged in more than ten years, and cultivating now would probably be a waste of effort, he was about to risk his life. Even the slightest increase in strength would be welcome.

"How did it come to risking my life again?!" Kang Dabao suddenly set down the scripture in his hands and sighed.

It had already been fifteen years since he had said goodbye to his phone and computer and come to this world. An old bachelor who could not master advanced mathematics or afford a house had failed to become an unparalleled genius or a child of the world after arriving in another realm. He had merely moved to a place where he could not even eat savory steamed pork belly, and become an older bachelor cultivator with no hope of attaining the Great Dao.

He rubbed a terrible scar hidden beneath the collar at the back of his neck. "Damn it, it's been fifteen years. If Mom and Dad back home saw this, they'd probably be so distressed they couldn't sleep."

At first, he had thought he was dreaming, and had even been rather happy. After all, before transmigrating, he had devoured at least eighty or a hundred immortal-hero novels. What protagonist had not started out lying low and developing before getting a golden finger and slaughtering his way in all directions?

Later, he realized something was wrong. The dream was frighteningly real. His master's disciplinary ruler hurt so much, yet no matter how many blows he took, he never woke up. A rampaging spirit beast in the beast garden had bitten off half an unlucky menial's body, and that had not looked fake either. Immortal cultivators really could refine mortal medicines that cured every illness.

Worst of all, a good-for-nothing from the modern age was still a good-for-nothing after coming here.

Back then, he had spent two semesters studying power functions without learning them, and he had fared no better here.

For the Fireball Technique alone, he had spent a year learning the hand seals and still made a mistake now and then. He had taken plenty of blows from the technique instructor elder's disciplinary ruler.

Back then, he had mixed up the positive and negative valences of chemical elements for three years and was always scolded by his teacher. Here, just working out the formulas in an Original Law Scripture had nearly driven him mad!

Back then, when his mother taught him to tie his shoelaces, it had taken him a full ten minutes to barely learn how. Here, the simplest step in becoming a cultivator, Drawing Qi into the Body, had taken him nearly four years.

Other people transmigrated and became geniuses. As for what had happened to him after he came here...

Needless to say, he was either a stepping stone or background scenery.

At best, he was an idle piece some mighty figure had placed here, waiting until he was fattened up before sending some protagonist over to show off and slap his face.

Fortunately, his master had cared about their bond and had guided him onto the path step by step.

He had managed to make a little something of himself, too. He could not compare to a genius, of course, but he at least had average aptitude. Somehow, he had even become a member of the exploiting class known as immortal cultivators.

Later, his master lost a contest of spells, suffered damage to his foundation, and passed away soon afterward.

At the end, his master entrusted the whole Chongming Sect family to him. He had thought he had transmigrated with a protagonist's template, but the sect master system he had waited more than ten years for never did appear with a "ding." Instead, he had to shoulder the burden of feeding an entire household, young and old.

When the Chongming Sect was handed over to him, he was only eighteen, had cultivated for fifteen years, was at the third level of Qi Refinement, and had a mixed spirit root. Yuan Jin was fourteen that year, at the third level of Qi Refinement, and had a mixed spirit root; he was no help either, crying whenever anyone spoke harshly to him. Jiang Qing was seven, had just entered the path, and had a triple spirit root; all he did was cry, whether anyone spoke harshly to him or not.

A group of martial uncles refused to accept the arrangement and wanted to divide the family assets. That was no surprise.

It was, after all, the property his master had left behind. Kang Dabao had exhausted every pleasant word and sprawled his mound of fat on the ground, begging them on his belly, but it was no use. They insisted on splitting the family.

If they wanted to split, then so be it. In the end, Sect Leader Kang Da could only take a deep breath and stand firm.

The martial uncles all said they were fair-minded men. The mountain gate was worth the most, so they left it to their martial nephew and took the mountain-protecting formation with them.

Since the most valuable thing had been left to their martial nephew, and the martial uncles had suffered such a great loss, naturally the savings in the storeroom should go to them. What did it matter if the contents were gone? The storeroom itself was left to him.

When the division was over, all Kang Dabao had received was a bare mountain gate, custody of Yuan Jin and Jiang Qing, and a dog.

The sect master did not even start with a bowl! The martial uncle in charge of the kitchen had had his eye on them for ages!

Kang Dabao had still held out hope, imagining that the dog was the incarnation of a great demon taken in by some awesome patriarch of the sect, there to uphold the legacy of the sect's direct line in its hour of need.

But Kang Dabao's temporarily forgetting his status as a stepping stone did not mean he had acquired a protagonist's template. By the next day, he knew his theory that the dog was a great demon did not hold up.

When he woke that morning, Yuan Jin and little Jiang Qing, stricken by grief and hunger, had already relied on their own efforts to eat until their mouths were greasy.

With his hopes dashed, Kang Dabao was so heartbroken he almost cried.

From then on, Kang Dabao became the only sect master in the Chongming Sect's history to have no succession ceremony, and he had only two sect members.

Like the founding patriarch of a certain major sect in a story his master had once told him, he too began to build from nothing.

He pawned and sold his belongings to scrape together enough money to patch up and use a first-tier formation abandoned by some sect master generations ago, though he did not know which.

Even if it was a bit shoddy, never mind whether it was useful or not, at least it lit up when he turned it on at night!

He pulled strings, thumped his chest, and shamelessly called people big brother wherever he went. He hosted a banquet and sent Yuan Jin to the master artisans' workshop in Xuanwei City as an artifact-refining apprentice. He also traveled alone with goods on his back and little Jiang Qing in tow, buying low and selling high in Pingrong County.

Who in the surrounding area did not laugh at the Chongming Sect's new master for becoming a peddler? Yet that was how he scraped together enough to buy the cultivation materials Jiang Qing needed to practice the Three Yang Scripture.

Haha, commemorating the first recommendation vote of my life. Thank you, honored reader Linlin49130, for the encouragement. (I recently browsed the forums, and although I hear IDs like this are mostly bots, thank you all the same.)