The first rays of sunlight had barely touched the rooftops when the village became unusually lively. Doors opened one after another. People who normally woke up slowly had already finished breakfast.
Children ran along the dirt road, laughing as they chased each other. Even the old men sitting beneath the ancient banyan tree seemed more awake than usual.
Ethan stepped outside his house, carrying a bucket toward the village well. He noticed it immediately. Everyone was looking in the same direction. Toward the eastern road. The road that disappeared into the mountains.
"They’re coming today."
"So Old Chen wasn’t lying after all."
"I’ve waited three years for this."
The villagers whispered among themselves. Ethan lowered the bucket into the well without saying a word. He wasn’t uninterested. He simply didn’t like joining crowds before understanding what was happening.
As he walked back with the bucket, Lina spotted him.
"Brother Ethan!"
She waved both hands excitedly.
"They’re really coming!"
Ethan smiled.
"So I’ve heard."
"My grandpa says real Immortal Masters can fly!"
She stretched her arms wide.
"They don’t even need horses!"
Ethan chuckled.
"Then let’s see if your grandpa is right."
Lina nodded repeatedly before running back to her grandfather. An hour later, a bell rang from the centre of the village.
Dong...
Dong...
Dong...
The village chief stood beside the bell, his weathered face unusually serious.
"Everyone."
"They will arrive soon."
"Keep your children under control."
"No shouting."
"No pushing."
"If anyone offends the honoured guests."
He paused.
"our village cannot bear the consequences."
The cheerful atmosphere instantly quieted. Nobody doubted his words. For ordinary mortals, Cultivators were beings beyond reason. They could decide the fate of an entire village with a single thought.
Ethan quietly stood near the edge of the gathering. Not too close, not too far. A good place to watch.
Time passed.
The sun climbed higher. Just when some of the children began losing patience, Someone shouted.
"They’re here!"
Every head turned, Far down the mountain road. Several figures slowly appeared. There were only five of them. Four young men and women dressed in pale blue robes. Walking at the front, an elderly man with white hair, his steps weren’t hurried. Yet somehow, every step seemed perfectly measured.
Even from a distance. No dust clung to their robes.
The villagers unconsciously stepped aside. No one had told them to. It simply happened. The group stopped before the village entrance.
The chief immediately bowed.
"This humble village greets the honoured immortals."
The old man gave a small nod.
"We are merely passing through."
His voice wasn’t loud, Yet everyone heard it clearly. He looked around once before speaking again.
"We will rest here until sunset."
The chief’s face lit up.
"It is our honour."
He quickly ordered several villagers to prepare food and clean the largest house.
Throughout the exchange, the four younger disciples never spoke. They simply observed their surroundings. Some looked bored. Others looked indifferent. To them this village was probably no different from dozens they had visited before.
Ethan watched quietly. Something caught his attention, the disciples weren’t carrying luggage. Not even food, yet they had travelled a long distance.
Interesting.
His gaze shifted lower. One of the disciples wore a simple ring on his finger. Another had a small cloth pouch tied to his waist. Neither seemed ordinary.
Ethan looked away almost immediately. Staring too long invited trouble. As the crowd slowly dispersed, an argument suddenly broke out.
"My son has talent!"
A middle-aged man hurried forward, pulling a teenage boy behind him.
"Honoured Immortal!"
"My son has always been smarter than the other children."
"Please accept him as your disciple!"
The old cultivator stopped walking. He walked towards the frightened boy, held his right and Then he gently shook his head.
"No spiritual roots."
The father froze.
"B-But..."
"My son."
The old man turned back continued walking. He offered no further explanation.
The boy lowered his head. His father stood there in silence. The surrounding villagers sighed. No one mocked them. Dreams weren’t wrong. Reality was simply cruel. Ethan watched the entire scene.
"So."
"It’s not enough to want it."
There were requirements.
Whether they were called spiritual roots or something else in this world, one thing is clear, not everyone qualified.
That answered one question. It also created several more. He kept them to himself.
Near noon, the village became busy again. The chief ordered everyone to avoid disturbing the honoured guests. Most people obeyed. Curiosity remained, But no one dared approach.
Ethan carried another bundle of firewood past the guest house. Just as he walked by, the door opened. One of the younger disciples stepped outside. He looked no older than twenty. His expression carried the confidence of someone who had never struggled for food.
For a brief moment, their eyes met. The disciple looked away first. Not because Ethan frightened him. But because, He simply wasn’t worth another glance.
A passing mortal.
Nothing more.
Ethan continued walking as though nothing had happened.
Inside, he wasn’t offended. If their positions were reversed, Would he remember every stranger he passed?
Probably not.
Strength changed a person’s perspective. That was reality. Complaining about it changed nothing.
By evening, the visitors prepared to leave. The entire village gathered once more. The chief bowed deeply.
"Thank you for honouring our village."
The old cultivator nodded. As he turned to leave, when a young boy suddenly broke free from his mother’s hand.
"Immortal!"
The child shouted.
"Can people without spiritual roots become immortals?"
The mother turned pale,She hurried forward and pulled him back.
"I’m sorry!"
"I’m so sorry!"
The old cultivator raised one hand. She froze.
"It’s alright."
He looked at the child for a few quiet moments. Then answered.
"Hard."
Not impossible.
Not easy.
Just, hard.
With that single word. He continued walking away. The five figures gradually disappeared down the mountain road. Silence settled over the village. Everyone slowly returned home. Some looked disappointed. Others looked inspired. Life Would continue as before.
Ethan stood alone for a while, watching the empty road.
"Hard."
He repeated the word softly. Weather he has one or not, he thought to himself. Then he smiled.
"I’ve never expected easy."
He turned around and walked back toward his small wooden house. The mountains still stood beyond the horizon.
Quiet.
Patient.
Unmoving.
But looking at them now, they no longer felt like a dream. They felt, like a destination.