Chapter 2
Chapter 2
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 2
Chapter Title: Liu Seran of the First Life
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One botched survey later, his gender had flipped overnight, and his new name was Liu Seran.
Seran was born in a village in the central region of Yu Nation.
Her father, of the Liu family, was a tenant farmer, and she had five siblings above her.
From a young age, Seran was famous in the neighborhood.
Like all newborns, she had emerged wrinkled and ugly, but as she grew to one and two years old, her extraordinary qualities shone through.
By age five, anyone could see she was destined to become a beauty.
Large, clear eyes, a straight nose, a small and slender face.
Even the back of her head was lovely.
Even a three-year-old child knows beauty when they see it.
Sometimes they’re even more honest than pretentious adults.
Humans are slaves to beauty by nature, and the local boys were no exception.
Walking down the road, someone would call out from behind a tree.
She’d trot over, and a boy her age would pop out, shove a handful of wild berries into her hands, and flee.
Fetching water from the well with a bucket, a boy two years older would act all grown-up and yank the rope with gusto.
It was a given he’d offer to carry the bucket all the way home just to say one more word.
Seran, who remembered her past life as a man, found these boys’ displays of affection utterly embarrassing.
Of course, her reactions only made them more desperate.
It was a vicious cycle.
*****
The day everyone’s first love, Seran, turned ten.
As she dozed in the shade of a tree, a book dropped right onto the crown of her head.
“Ow!”
Startled, Seran looked around and spotted the book on the ground.
Huh, what’s this?
The cover felt strangely familiar—it was the same book inscribed with characters from the survey in her past life.
Well, not exactly Hanja, but ideograms like them.
And for some reason, unlike before, she could read it now.
The title was *Primer for Entering the Dao*?
Flipping it open, it explained the basics of cultivation for becoming an immortal.
In summary, it went like this.
Humans have a fixed lifespan; misfortune might shorten it, but no one can exceed it.
Only those with spirit roots can temper body and mind to live beyond their allotted years.
With that extended life, they cultivate further until their path touches the heavens, achieving immortality and eternal life.
This is exactly like the spiel from that survey intro!
Only then did she feel certain that the survey was what had flung her into this bizarre world.
She’d suspected as much, but now she had proof.
Fuming, Seran huffed and flipped through the pages.
But her anger quickly faded.
Cultivators, those who trained to become immortals, led lives that captivated her.
They tempered their bodies to leap rivers and hurl boulders.
They amassed spiritual power to cast spells and tread on clouds.
Even when mountains crumbled to gravel, they did not age.
At last, they escaped death forever.
No one in the world wants to die, and everyone yearns to become someone precious.
And that chance was now in her hands.
Sure, it might all be nonsense, but who knew?
The world had people who took one survey and reincarnated with a gender swap.
She didn’t know the mechanism, but reincarnation was real—so why not immortals?
Suddenly, she was glad she’d taken that survey.
She’d done it out of pity for the pleading woman’s pitiful face, and sure enough, good deeds brought blessings.
Seran pored over the book until sunset.
*****
To become immortals, cultivators had to pass through several realms.
From the very bottom: Qi Condensation, Foundation Establishment, Core Formation, Nascent Soul, Incarnation—five stages in all.
There were higher ones too, but beginners didn’t need to know, it said.
Naturally, the *Primer for Entering the Dao* that Seran received covered Qi Condensation.
According to the explanation, Qi Condensation was the process of forging a body free of impurities.
So that the spiritual energy pervading heaven and earth could flow through it unobstructed.
Impurities blocked that flow, it claimed.
Impurities built up naturally with life, so starting young gave an edge in cultivation.
Of course, too young and spirit roots hadn’t formed yet, making practice impossible.
Around ten was ideal.
Seran nodded.
Makes sense—they dropped the book on the day I turned ten.
But what if I don’t have a spirit root?
You need one to cultivate.
Nah, what’s a spirit root anyway? No way I don’t have one.
Turning the page, she found an explanation of spirit roots right away.
Spirit roots typically followed the five elements: fire, water, wood, metal, earth.
Single-element was single spirit root; two was dual, then triple, quadruple, and all five mixed made quintuple.
Single spirit roots were exceedingly rare and allowed the fastest cultivation.
Hmm, single spirit root’s the best, huh.
Spirit roots could be checked once spiritual eyes opened, so beginners had no way to test their own.
To confirm, ask a high-realm cultivator or join a sect, it said.
Disappointed, Seran flipped ahead rapidly.
The rest covered meditation methods, chants to clear the mind, basic martial arts, and various training tips.
*****
Thus began Seran’s cultivation.
To become an immortal, one had to hone body and soul to transcend mortality.
So Seran followed the book to the letter.
“Seran, what’re you doing sitting there?”
“Taking a nap.”
“With that scowl?”
In truth, she was chanting incantations in meditation.
“Seran, something good happen?”
“Yeah, that’s right.”
“So you’re dancing?”
No, practicing fist techniques.
Seran made up the most plausible excuses to keep cultivating, but to others, it looked like eccentricity.
Yet the same actions looked different depending on who did them.
Eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen.
As she grew, Seran’s beauty blossomed further.
The neighborhood legend of her looks since toddlerhood now echoed across the region.
Not long ago, a new bride from the next village over had been so distracted by Seran’s face that she walked into a tree.
Even women couldn’t look away.
No matter how oddly Seran behaved, everyone just found it adorable.
As long as she did her chores, no one interfered with her cultivation.
Finally, one day after reciting chants in meditation and sweating through martial drills without a single break.
Results appeared.
She felt strength surging through her body and her mind sharpening.
Before she knew it, even the large water bucket felt light, winter colds never touched her, she forgot nothing, and waking from sleep brought instant clarity.
Seran realized she had become a true cultivator.
She felt herself climbing, step by step, toward eternal life.
An absurd sense of accomplishment flooded her.
Joy filled her heart, so smiles always lit her face.
A young beauty’s smile has its own fresh charm.
The brighter Seran’s smiles bloomed, the more severe the boys’ puppy loves grew.
One even wailed before his parents that he’d drown himself in the river if they married her off, becoming the ultimate unfilial son.
Seran was reaching marriageable age too.
Families with sons of age, overwhelmed by their boys’ pestering, sent matchmakers.
The Liu home saw matchmakers coming and going daily.
Mr. Liu fell into deep anguish.
Proposals poured in from the neighborhood and beyond.
And as family head, marriage was his decision.
The responsibility weighed heavy.
First, he weeded out the brutish, the lowborn, the gamblers—anyone with flaws.
Still too many left.
So he narrowed to upright, handsome, sturdy, diligent young men.
Still too many.
Finally, he considered family status and history.
First candidate: the local lord’s eldest son.
His clan owned so much land, some members had never set foot on another’s.
Second: a great merchant’s son in the nearest city.
His house virtually monopolized silk trade there with their massive caravan.
Third: a famed clan’s eldest son in the city.
Grandfather and father both officials; rumors said he’d be recommended soon too.
Mr. Liu agonized sleepless nights.
But the conclusion came swiftly.
Liu family’s youngest daughter, Liu Seran, married none of the three.
One reason.
Yu Nation, where Liu Seran lived, had lost badly to Yang Nation in war.
Yang Nation, victors for the history books, demanded hundreds of beauties as tribute palace ladies.
Between national ruin and sending beauties, groveling Yu chose the latter.
Yang Nation’s envoys toured the provinces seeking them out—and heard Seran’s fame.
Word spread of the war loss and young women being drafted as tribute; parents with daughters pulled every trick to hide them.
Shave heads, send to temples as temporary nuns.
Marry off twelve-year-olds overnight to make them wives.
Hide in secret spots, fake graves to claim them dead.
Parental love knew no bounds, spawning endless clever schemes.
In this moment, class and region vanished— all Yu folk united.
Results were similar too.
Cherished daughters of high officials, selected as tribute.
Refined young ladies who’d never lifted anything heavier than a flute, selected.
Filial daughters weaving to feed widowed mothers and siblings, selected.
The procession following Yang’s envoys grew ever longer.
Each step left shattered families and wailing kin.
At last, the envoys reached the Liu region, extending their claws.
Mr. Liu, of course, frantically hid his daughter.
But with her fame local, hiding was futile.
Seran, curled tight in a jar, was inevitably discovered and loaded into a carriage.
Seran, selected as tribute.