Volume 1: Green Immortal Sect
Xu Family Village.
“Brother Ergou said that anyone wearing a Daoist robe is an immortal. Did I just save an immortal?”
On a muddy rural path, a ragged boy led an old yellow ox.
Slumped across the ox’s back lay an unconscious Daoist.
The boy scrunched his dirt-streaked face, muttering under his breath,
“So what if he’s an immortal? Xu Changshou, oh Xu Changshou, you’ve completely lost it. You can’t even fill your own belly, yet you’re trying to play the savior. If that wicked shrew finds out, she’ll skin you alive…”
The boy was named Xu Changshou. He was twelve; his father had once been a well-known hunter in the village. His life in those earlier years had been decent enough-far from wealthy, but he had never wanted for food or warmth.
When he turned nine, disaster struck from the heavens.
His father was killed by a wild beast during a hunt. Unable to bear the grief, his mother soon followed her husband to the grave.
Xu Changshou became an orphan.
Eventually, Landlord Wang of the village took him in, reducing him to a mere cowherd for the wealthy estate.
He was forced not only to tend the cattle, but to haul water, chop firewood, and break his back over the fields.
Starving was a daily routine.
Young and entirely alone in the world, Xu Changshou had no choice but to endure this grinding servitude.
Landlord Wang’s wife was a vicious shrew who treated him with pure malice, beating and cursing him at the slightest provocation.
Earlier today, Landlord Wang had ordered him to take the ox and plow the fields.
He promised:
Four coarse steamed buns for plowing ten mu.
Exhausted from plowing the fields, on his way back, Xu Changshou stumbled upon an injured, unconscious middle-aged Daoist.
So, he hauled the man onto the ox’s back and brought him home.
Xu Changshou lived in the cowshed, so he brought the Daoist there too.
The shed reeked to high heaven. Landlord Wang and his wicked shrew of a wife never set foot inside, so he didn’t have to worry about being caught.
Only after tethering the ox and throwing down some fodder did Xu Changshou have a moment to inspect his guest.
The Daoist’s face was ashen, yet completely devoid of external wounds.
What had knocked him out?
Xu Changshou managed to pour a little boiled water down the man’s throat, then let him rest.
His own stomach twisted with a hollow growl. He downed several massive gulps of water to stave off the hunger pangs, then peered out of the shed. Dusk was falling.
Usually, the landlord’s wife would be bringing his rations right about now.
“Xu Changshou, feeding time!”
The shrew’s shrill voice pierced the air.
“Coming!”
Xu Changshou ran out of the cowshed.
Waiting outside, Wang Xushi stood with a dark scowl, tossing him two coarse steamed buns.
“Stuff your face and go to sleep. You’re up at dawn to till the fields.”
Wasn’t it supposed to be four buns? Why only two?
Dammit, you old hag. Skimming my rations again.
Xu Changshou stared at Wang Xushi, swallowing the bitter accusation before it could reach his tongue.
Ignoring him completely, Wang Xushi turned her broad backside and swaggered away.
Xu Changshou scratched his head in bewilderment. The shrew was acting entirely out of character-she hadn’t hurled a single curse at him.
It was spring, and the Landlord Wang estate still had over a hundred mu waiting to be plowed.
Thus, Wang Xushi’s sudden “mercy” was nothing more than a calculated move to get him to do more work.
Too young to understand the depth of her scheming, Xu Changshou merely assumed the shrew was in a rare good mood.
Slipping back into the cowshed, Xu Changshou washed down one of the buns with water, devouring it in mere seconds.
The other bun, he carefully set aside for the Daoist.
With that done, he collapsed into the hay and immediately fell into a deep slumber.
He slept like the dead until dawn.
The next morning.
The moment the first rays of sunlight broke, Xu Changshou snapped his eyes open-only to find the Daoist sitting cross-legged in silent meditation.
As if sensing the boy’s gaze,
The Daoist opened his eyes, a profound, divine light flashing within his pupils.
His gaze carried a faint pressure that locked onto Xu Changshou, making his heart tighten.
What a terrifying glare. Is he really an immortal?
“You were the one who saved me?” the Daoist asked, his tone gentle.
“Yes.”
“What is your name?”
“My name is Xu Changshou. I’m the cowherd for Landlord Wang. Yesterday, I saw you collapsed by the road, so I brought you back.”
“A cowherd…”
The Daoist swept his gaze across the filthy shed, his nose wrinkling slightly before he offered a slight smile. “My surname is Zhang, given name Zhengyuan. You may simply address me as Daoist.”
“D-Daoist, you must be starving. Let me get you some food.”
Xu Changshou hastily reached into his robes with grimy fingers, pulling out a dark, coarse steamed bun. Disgust immediately flickered across Zhang Zhengyuan’s face.
Is this even edible?
Grumble…
Zhang Zhengyuan’s stomach growled, and hunger washed over him.
He gave an awkward smile, took the bun, and ate it without worrying about the dirt.
He had lost track of how many days he had been starved; right now, the dark bun tasted rather good.
After finishing the bun, he looked back up at Xu Changshou. “Is there more?”
Xu Changshou shook his head. “None left. I’m supposed to get four of those a day, but the wicked shrew skimmed two off the top. Otherwise…”
“Who is this wicked shrew?”
“The shrew is Landlord Wang’s wife. She’s a wretched hag who never stops tormenting me…”
Xu Changshou spilled his grievances about the shrew, giving Zhang Zhengyuan a clear picture of the boy’s miserable existence.
A sudden wave of gratitude, mingled with genuine pity, washed over the Daoist.
“Xu Changshou, I shall pass down a Six-Character Breathing Technique to you. It will temper your mortal flesh and fortify your bones. Are you willing to learn?”
Zhang Zhengyuan asked with utmost gravity, having weighed the decision carefully.
“I am willing.”
Xu Changshou nodded eagerly. A breathing technique to strengthen his body? He had absolutely no reason to refuse.
If I get stronger, all this backbreaking labor will be a breeze. Perfect!
“Come closer. I will teach you the six syllables.”
“Yes.”
Xu Changshou leaned his ear in, only to hear Zhang Zhengyuan utter six bizarre sounds: “Xu, He, Hu, Si, Chui, Xi.”
That’s it?
Speechless, Xu Changshou gave him a deadpan look. “Daoist… will that actually strengthen my body?”
Adopting the profound, unfathomable aura of a true immortal, Zhang Zhengyuan smiled. “This is a supreme dharma of the Mystic Gate. Its wonders are boundless-it does far more than mere physical tempering.”
Xu Changshou’s mind began to race. He voiced his suspicion with extreme caution, “Dare I ask, Daoist… is this a method of Cultivation?”
Zhang Zhengyuan chuckled lightly. “If you can sense the flow of Qi, you may become an immortal.”
“And if I can’t sense this Qi?”
“Then, at the very least, it will fortify your mortal frame.”
Xu Changshou frowned. “How exactly do I sense this flow of Qi?”
Zhang Zhengyuan replied, “That depends entirely on your fortune. If you can grasp the sensation of Qi, I will take you as my disciple.”