The carriage moved at an unhurried pace, its wooden wheels protesting with a mournful creak against the dirt road. The ox pulled with steady strength, indifferent to the weight of the two youths riding atop the hay in the back. At the front, an old man with a hunched back held the reins with the calm that only years can grant.
Jin and Wei watched the landscape unfold in silence: gentle hills and open fields blending into a hazy green horizon. The entire scene looked as though it had been taken from an ancient painting, imbued with an almost unreal serenity.
It was Wei Han who broke the silence. His voice, barely above a murmur, cut through the tranquil air.
“Why did you lie?” he asked, turning his head just enough to look at Jin. “Why play along with that story?”
Jin did not take his eyes off the horizon. A faint smile curved his lips.
“Because sometimes, the simplest lie is the shortest path,” he replied, his calm contrasting with Wei’s caution. “Besides, didn’t you see how his eyes lit up? This makes everything more… interesting.”
Wei frowned. The memory was vivid: the moment when the old man, after greeting them respectfully, had asked with a mixture of fear and reverence whether they were disciples of some distinguished sect. The question had sparked something in Jin’s eyes.
Before Wei could offer an honest denial, his companion had spoken first.
“No, grandfather,” Jin had said, his voice laced with practiced courtesy. “We don’t belong to any sect… but we are looking for one.”
Wei had shot him a warning look, a silent plea not to complicate things, but Jin had ignored him.
“We were on our way to take the entrance trials for one, but we got lost in the vast forest.”
The old man had processed his words in silence. His face, wrinkled like parchment, softened with understanding. “I see… I see…” he murmured to himself. Without further questions, he had invited them aboard, offering them shelter in his village.
Back in the present, Wei sighed and closed his eyes. “You improvise too much.”
“Relax,” Jin replied, leaning back comfortably against the hay. “If we’re really in another world, shouldn’t we enjoy the ride a little? What’s the worst that could happen?”
The rattling of the carriage filled the silence that followed. Wei watched the sway of the hay beneath his feet, reflecting on the almost religious devotion with which the old man had spoken the word “sect.”
“That thing he mentioned… what exactly is a sect here?” he asked, turning to Jin again. “It can’t be like the ones we know.”
Jin fell silent for a moment, organizing thoughts that until now had only lived in the pages of novels and internet forums.
“Yes and no,” he finally replied, his tone turning more serious. “Here, a sect isn’t just a group of beliefs. It’s a school, a faction, a military power… It’s the place where ordinary people go to challenge their own fate. They seek power, longevity… they seek to transcend the human condition.”
Wei turned fully toward him, his attention now fixed.
“A cultivator,” Jin continued, his voice carrying a strange intensity, “is someone who refuses to accept the chains they were born with. They learn to sense the energy of the world around them, to draw it in and make it their own. Call it Qi, spiritual energy, the essence of heaven and earth… the name doesn’t matter. What matters is that, through techniques and an iron will, they refine their body and spirit, break their limits, and ascend, step by step, toward something that brushes against divinity.”
Jin paused, searching for a simpler analogy.
“Imagine someone capable of sensing the latent power in wind, earth, or fire, and using it as if it were an extension of their own body. Someone who could pulverize a mountain with a gesture or make the ground tremble with a single step.”
Wei remained silent, his face a mask of seriousness.
“And believe me,” Jin added with a half-smile, “I’m being conservative. Some reach the summit through a weapon. A sword, for example. Swordsmen who achieve such communion with their blade that they no longer cut only physical things… but concepts. I’ve read of cultivators capable of splitting a sea in two with a single strike.”
At that precise moment, something deep within Wei resonated strongly. It was a subtle yet undeniable vibration, like the string of an instrument being plucked. His breath stilled, and for the briefest instant, his eyes took on the sharp gleam of an unsheathed blade. The image of a sword cleaving the ocean etched itself into his mind.
He said nothing, but Jin noticed. He shrugged, brushing it off.
“Of course, all of this is just speculation. Maybe I’m getting carried away and this world is completely normal.”
Wei closed his eyes. When he opened them again, the intensity had faded, replaced by a renewed calm. A small but genuine smile curved his lips.
“If what you say is true…” he said quietly, “then I want to see it.”
Surprise flashed in Jin’s eyes. Before he could respond, the sound of running water filled the air. Both turned their heads. A clear stream wound alongside the path, and beyond it, cultivated fields stretched in perfect rows. Villagers worked the land while children played near the entrance of the village, their laughter drifting on the breeze.
The scene dispelled any lingering doubt in Jin’s mind. This was not a dream. It was real.
As they entered the village, conversations died down and all eyes turned toward them. Wei remained impassive, but Jin, with a natural smile, raised a hand in a friendly greeting.
That gesture broke the tension; some returned the greeting shyly, others simply nodded. Jin looked around with amazement at the wall of thick logs surrounding the settlement and the houses of mud and wood, simple yet sturdy.
The carriage came to a stop in front of the largest dwelling.
“Young Masters, we have arrived at my humble abode,” the old man announced, climbing down with surprising agility and cupping his hands in respect.
“Thank you for your help, grandfather,” Jin said sincerely as they stepped down.
“There is no need,” the old man replied, waving a hand. “It is an honor.”
Just as Jin was about to ask more, a sweet, melodious voice interrupted them.
“Grandpa, you’re back!”
A girl of about thirteen came running out of the house. She wore simple but spotless clothes, and her round cheeks and lively eyes gave her a charming air. After hugging the old man’s legs, she looked up, and her eyes met Jin’s.
For a moment, there was silence. The girl quickly looked away with a faint blush and clung to her grandfather.
“Grandpa, who are these two older brothers?”
“They are young masters who got lost in the forest, little Lian,” the old man explained with a gentle laugh. “We were fortunate to meet them.”
As they began a short walk through the village, the old man continued:
“The heavens were merciful! A little more and they would have missed the sect’s examination.”
Jin and Wei exchanged a brief glance.
“Grandpa He,” Jin asked, with as much naturalness as he could muster, “what examination are you referring to?”
“A few days ago, an examiner came to our village,” the old man explained. “He tested the children and selected those with aptitude for cultivation. They will return in two weeks to take them away.”
“Two weeks?”
“Yes. The Eight Celestial Peaks Sect is very far away. It is not a place one reaches easily.”
Jin nodded, committing every word to memory. “Are there no closer sects?”
“There are, yes. But if one could choose… one would always choose the Eight Celestial Peaks Sect. It is one of the Four Great Sects of the entire Linglong Continent.”
Jin’s heart skipped a beat. It was exactly the information he needed. He tried to draw out more details, but the old man shook his head.
“This old man knows almost nothing about the world of cultivators. I only repeat what I hear when the examiners come.”
Jin did not press further. At his side, Wei walked in silence, but his mind was like a fortress. Not a single word had escaped him. For both of them, the pieces were beginning to fall into place.