The Canglang Mountains lay within the Miasma Zone of Northern Yan, surrounded by dense forests and layered peaks, earning the local description of eight parts mountain, one part water, and one part farmland. Yet amid this harsh mountainous expanse, several villages tenaciously clung to survival.
In the past, the villagers of Canglang struggled endlessly against the terrain, fighting the earth for grain, the mountains for water, and heaven and earth for mere existence. But a decade ago, life here abruptly shifted. Not only did every household acquire surplus grain, but each village also constructed ancestral halls built of blue bricks and ceramic tiles.
Shu Village was one such settlement.
Early in the morning, a row of children sat in neat lines inside the Shu Village ancestral hall.
They suppressed their restless natures, each holding a blue-green medicinal herb in their mouths.
Soon enough, however, a child bounced up with repeated coughs, spitting out the herb as a pained expression twisted his young face. As time dragged on, more and more children failed to endure the ordeal, casting out their herbs and leaving the ancestral hall.
Only three children remained.
Faint wisps of Spiritual Qi continuously drifted from the crowns of two boys.
Only the child with the noticeably larger head showed no such phenomenon.
“Hold on! No matter what, I have to digest the full efficacy of the Fufang Grass!”
“I can already feel it. Just a little more Fufang Grass, and I’ll awaken my spiritual root like Erdan, gaining the qualification to enter the Dragon Profound Sect!”
The big-headed boy went by the formal name of Shu Han.
Because his head was disproportionately large, he had picked up that nickname.
Perhaps due to his large head, Shu Han had been sharper and more clever than ordinary children since he was small.
The most widely circulated tale in the village was the story of the big-headed boy capturing mountain bandits by night.
Two years prior, in the late autumn, a severe drought had struck the region around the Canglang Mountains.
Many honest farmers, driven by hunger, took to banditry.
One night, taking advantage of the darkened village, a band slipped into Shu Village, only to cross paths with young Shu Han who had gotten up to relieve himself.
The outlaws were not vicious killers and initially intended merely to knock him unconscious.
An average child facing such a situation would have lost their wits, but Shu Han reacted with nimble wit. Feigning the demeanor of the village simpleton, he foolishly insisted they had come to Shu Village to buy grain. The bandits played along, demanding that Shu Han lead them to the granary.
Fabricating a story that the village chief kept all the grain stored inside the ancestral hall for safekeeping, Shu Han guided the group straight into the building. Once inside, he slipped through the small canine exit at the bottom of the door, slammed the heavy wooden doors shut from the outside, and locked the bandits securely inside.
From that day onward, everyone in Shu Village praised Shu Han’s oversized head for housing great wisdom.
Seated at the head of the ancestral hall was a middle-aged man draped in silk brocade, his long robes embroidered with lifelike bamboo patterns that stood in stark contrast to the coarse hemp garments worn by the village chief standing respectfully at his side.
Holding a cup of warm tea, his eyes burned brighter than those of the mountain folk. Surveying the children below, he looked well-pleased. “These children are all quite passable, especially that Erdan. His spiritual root appears quite deep. Goudan’s showing is decent as well. It is only a pity for the big-headed boy; there is still no sign of spiritual root awakening…”
The white-bearded village chief nodded and bowed alongside him. “Immortal Master Zhang, do you suppose the big-headed boy still has a chance?”
Immortal Master Zhang pondered for a moment. “I rather take a liking to this big-headed child. He is not only clever but possesses genuine perseverance. To consume Fufang Grass without an awakened spiritual root is akin to swallowing burning coals; it is rare for a child to hold out this long. We shall give him two more days. If there is still no sign by then, even I can do nothing.”
The village chief rubbed his hands together with a flattering smile. “Immortal Master Zhang, if our Shu Village produces three children with spiritual roots, could the provisions perhaps be increased slightly? Once the lads leave, they rarely return, and we must have some account to give their parents.”
Immortal Master Zhang cast a sideways glance and snorted. “If the big-headed boy truly succeeds, building your village another ancestral hall will be the least of it. Do not pester me with such trivialities again.”
“Yes, yes, indeed…”
Enduring the fiery, burning agony to the very end, Shu Han finally processed all the medicinal power of the Fufang Grass.
By this time, Erdan and Goudan had also opened their eyes. Their faces bore no trace of pain; instead, they looked refreshed and clear-headed. The sight left Shu Han burning with envy, intensifying his desperate obsession to awaken his own spiritual root.
“The Immortal Master said that entering the Dragon Profound Sect surpasses studying to become an official by far.”
“Once I enter the Dragon Profound Sect, I can bring my parents and younger sister out of these mountains to live a prosperous life, and I will get to see the boundless world Immortal Master Zhang spoke of.”
Clinging to this resolve, Shu Han produced a tattered burlap pouch and began gathering the discarded stalks of Fufang Grass left behind by the others.
He knew their medicinal potency was not entirely exhausted. With a simple washing, he could consume them once more.
If he lacked Erdan’s natural talent, he would simply have to make up for his shortcomings through sheer diligence.
Goudan watched Shu Han collect the scraps with a look of open disdain. “Big-Head, give it up! You simply don’t have the destiny for it! Being a carpenter like your old man suits you well enough.”
“Goudan, say that again-say it again and see if I don’t beat the stuffing out of you!”
Erdan sprang to his feet, rage flaring as he raised a clenched fist.
Goudan retreated a few paces with a mocking smirk. “Erdan, Big-Head will spend his entire life rotting in this village anyway, but the two of us are bound for the Dragon Profound Sect. There’s no sense in damaging our harmony over him. My mother said we’ll need to watch each other’s backs once we’re out there!”
“You still dare flap your jaw!”
Erdan rolled his eyes in fury and lunged forward to strike him, but Shu Han caught his arm and held him back.
“Big-Head Brother, he dares speak to you like that! Let me thrash him senseless!”
Shu Han shook his head, tucked his pouch of herbs close, and pulled Erdan away from the ancestral hall.
Still seething, Erdan muttered, “Big-Head Brother, he’s always running his mouth. Just let me teach him a lesson once; I guarantee it will shut his stinking trap.”
“Hh, I actually think Goudan is right.”
“What?”
Erdan stared, his eyes wide as saucers. “Big-Head Brother, have you lost your mind?”
Shu Han scratched his head. “If I truly fail to awaken a spiritual root, I won’t belong to the same world as you two anymore. When you go to the Dragon Profound Sect, get along well with Goudan so you have someone to rely on. But if I do awaken my spiritual root, wouldn’t that simply slap Goudan right across the face?”
Erdan cracked a wide grin. “Big-Head Brother, I believe you can do it. Take this-this is what I had left over from this morning.”
Reaching out, Erdan pressed a complete stalk of Fufang Grass into Shu Han’s palm.
“Erdan… you…”
Erdan laughed heartily. “I don’t need it. Immortal Master Zhang already told me I’m guaranteed a place in the Dragon Profound Sect. When the time comes, I’ll have as much Fufang Grass as I want, along with treasures far better than this! Big-Head Brother, the two of us are going to the Dragon Profound Sect together.”
“Right!”
Returning home, Shu Han bolted down a hasty breakfast, stuffed his pockets with the bruised and broken stalks of Fufang Grass, and headed toward the upper reaches of the local stream. This secluded spot saw few passersby, allowing him to wash the herbs clean by the water’s edge before swallowing them once more.
Having already been chewed once, the herbs had lost most of their efficacy, yet consuming them still set his chest and throat ablaze.
Gritting his teeth through the second stalk, his entire body grew feverish, making him yearn to plunge straight into the icy creek for relief.
“I can feel it-I’m just a hair’s breadth away! Immortal Master Zhang will be taking Erdan and Goudan away soon. I must awaken my spiritual root before they leave!”
The pouch held eight stalks in total. Yet those eight stalks dragged Shu Han through hours of agony from morning until dusk.
As the sun dipped low, casting a reddish glow across his youthful cheeks, Shu Han slowly opened his eyes. Deeper despair than before settled in his gaze.
The gathered Fufang Grass was completely gone.
Yet the sensation of the spiritual root awakening remained frustratingly out of reach.
It was just as the village elders often warned: seeing a mountain makes you run your horse to death.
He could clearly sense the destination right before him, yet no matter how hard he pushed, he could never cross the final distance.
“Ahhh!”
Shu Han let out a cry of grief and frustration as Goudan’s mocking words echoed once more in his mind.
Clutching the intact stalk of Fufang Grass Erdan had given him, bitterness flooded his chest.
He understood now that even if he had another stalk-even a dozen more-he still would not awaken.
Staring down at his own reflection rippling in the stream, Shu Han gave a desolate, self-mocking smile. “You simply don’t have the fate for it. You might as well spend your whole life trapped in this village.”
With that, he cast the remaining stalk of Fufang Grass into the creek, discarding the last shred of hope in his heart.
After sitting by the water’s edge for a moment, he gathered his composure and trudged back toward home along the bank.
As he walked, his gaze caught sight of the very herb he had just thrown away, bobbing along the current.
Resisting the urge to fish it back out, Shu Han kept walking.
Suddenly, another stalk drifted past him.
Strange. Had he thrown away two? Surely not.
Before he could puzzle it out, yet another stalk floated down from upstream.
Shocked, Shu Han stepped directly into the shallow creek and retrieved the herb.
He looked up toward the source of the stream. Sure enough, another stalk came drifting down.
Plagued by growing confusion, Shu Han waded upstream against the current. Along the way, he pulled a total of nine stalks from the water!
Suppressing an urge to weep with joy, he pressed onward to find the origin. The Fufang Grass was issuing from a pitch-black earthenware jar half-submerged in the creek bed. Reaching down, Shu Han hauled the vessel free. As he lifted it against the setting sun, he saw that the interior of the jar was packed entirely with fresh Fufang Grass!
“How can this be?!”
tipping the jar, he poured out the contents. Thirty-eight stalks spilled forth!
Stunned into speechlessness, Shu Han stared at the heap. He had no idea why an old jar resting in a creek bed would contain so many fresh herbs, but he knew one thing for certain: his hope of awakening a spiritual root had just been revived!
Lifting the small vessel, he turned it over and inspected it from every angle, finding nothing remarkable about the blackened surface. He decided to test it by dropping a single stalk back inside. A wondrous phenomenon occurred-a faint blue glow emanated from the interior, and the single stalk resting at the bottom instantly multiplied into two!
From two came four, and four became eight. In the span it took to brew a cup of tea, the jar was once again brimming with fresh Fufang Grass.
This miraculous sight delivered a profound shock to the boy’s young mind.
His large head went blank for a long while before he regained his senses.
Eager to test the limits of his discovery, he emptied the herbs and tossed a common pebble inside.
Within moments, stones multiplied at an even faster rate, filling the jar to the brim.
This dark jar was capable of duplicating items!
Young though he was, Shu Han understood the immense weight of such a treasure.
Glancing warily around to ensure no one was watching, he hurriedly dug a pit and buried a large batch of the duplicated herbs. Keeping the jar and a single stalk of grass, he pasted on a look of innocent nonchalance and sprinted back toward the village.