The Dawn of the Immortal Path
They arrived home just before evening. After unpacking, Grandfather picked out a few roots of herbs to commemorate my first mountain trip. He grabbed a handful and headed next door to borrow some meat. It had been ages since we'd had meat stew for dinner.
During the meal, I cautiously asked Grandfather, "Grandfather."
"What is it?"
"Those immortals... do they really exist?"
Grandfather's hand seemed to tremble for a moment, but then he spoke. "Where did you hear about that?"
"No~ I just heard about martial artists, so I got curious."
I played it innocent, and Grandfather took a breath before continuing slowly. "They do exist. Of course they do. I even met one once, back in my youth."
"Really?"
I widened my eyes. Grandfather seemed lost in recollection.
"Yes. Deep in the mountains, I stumbled upon a rare spirit herb by chance. As I was digging it up, a man suddenly appeared."
I swallowed, listening intently.
"That man was an immortal. He was different from martial artists. It was like he didn't see me as a person at all."
"What happened to the spirit herb?"
"I handed it over."
Grandfather said it plainly. "In return, he called it fate and gave me a good sum of gold."
Then he added quietly, "This house we're living in? We bought it with that money."
I nodded silently.
Immortals.
They were real, in this world.
After dinner, I returned to my room. The oil lamp cast a soft glow over the space. I stared at the flame for a while. Grandfather's story from dinner kept replaying in my mind.
"Time to set some goals."
I was just born with a special talent. So I'd hide it.
But if I have no choice...
Reveal only up to first-grade spirit root level. That was enough to qualify for any major immortal sect.
Still, top priority was gathering information.
I lay back slowly.
"Tomorrow's the market..."
I murmured. Maybe I'd find some clue about cultivation.
With that thought, I slowly closed my eyes.
The next morning, I was awake before dawn. Stepping outside, I saw Grandfather sorting yesterday's herbs.
"Up already?"
"Yes."
The herbs were neatly arranged. Among them, the Qing Ling Grass was wrapped separately in cloth, away from the others. Grandfather carefully bundled them into his pack.
"Now, off to the market."
I nodded.
It took about eight hours from the village to the county market town. We'd left early, but the sun was already past its zenith. At the town gate, I waited for inspection while scanning the surroundings. Farmers with carts, merchants with loads, hunters carrying game—all heading to the market.
After passing inspection, the market came into view. It bustled with people. Stalls lined the streets, vendors' cries endless.
"Fresh chickens, just caught!"
"Hot pancakes here!"
"Pickled fish—take a look!"
Nothing like our quiet village. Grandfather navigated familiarly to a herb shop. I trailed behind.
The shop was dimmer than outside. Herbs hung thick from the ceiling, dried roots and leaves bundled against one wall. The bitter scent stung my nose. A middle-aged man emerged from the back.
"Old Man Ryu, welcome. Not alone today, eh?"
He greeted with a familiar smile.
"Yeah. Good haul today."
Grandfather set down his pack. The shopkeeper examined each herb: Bai Shu Gen, Zhi Xue Grass, Qing Ye Grass. Finally, the cloth-wrapped Qing Ling Grass. His eyes lit up.
"Qing Ling Grass, huh."
He turned it over carefully. "Excellent condition. Where'd you find this?"
"Thanks to my granddaughter."
Grandfather chuckled briefly. Haggling followed. The shopkeeper tried to lowball; Grandfather held firm. They settled fairly, and a few silver taels changed hands. Without the Qing Ling Grass, it wouldn't have been half as much.
After the sale, we stepped out into the market din again. Following Grandfather, I eyed the stalls. Maybe something cultivation-related.
Then I spotted it—a small stall in the corner. Unlike the others, piled high with tattered books. I stopped. Grandfather noticed and gestured for me to check it out.
I approached slowly. The vendor was a middle-aged man with a goatee. Mostly worn scriptures, covers peeling, pages yellowed. One book stood out, ancient and titleless, cover worn to nothing. I picked it up absentmindedly.
A strange sensation tingled—like the energy I infused into spirit herbs. Setting it down, the vendor watched me.
"Interested?"
I asked, "What's this book?"
He shrugged. "Dunno exactly." His lip quirked. "Some Daoist left it with me ages ago."
I narrowed my eyes. "Daoist?"
"Yeah." He lowered his voice. "Guy without a spirit root, babbling about mastering this to become an immortal."
My heart raced. I ran to Grandfather.
"What?"
"Can I buy that book?"
Grandfather thought, then asked the vendor, "How much?"
"Two silver taels."
I held my breath. Two taels—for this rag? Half our herb money.
Grandfather eyed the book, then the man. "Two taels for this... pricey."
The vendor shrugged. "Don't have to buy it."
His face didn't budge. "These things go to those fated for them."
I couldn't look away. This could be my cultivation opportunity.
Grandfather spoke again. "One tael for an old book?"
The vendor glanced at my eager face and smirked. "She wants it bad. Just take it for two."
Grandfather paused, looked at me. "You really want it?"
I nodded. "Yes."
Silence. Then he pulled two taels from his pouch and set them down.
"Reminds me I never got her a proper birthday gift."
He handed over the coins matter-of-factly. The vendor checked them and nodded.
"Good choice."
He passed the book. "Who knows? Might really hold immortal secrets."
I clutched it carefully and followed Grandfather home.
By nightfall, we were back in the village. After sorting market goods, I slipped into my room. I lit the lamp brighter and carefully opened the book. The cover was still illegible.
I turned the pages slowly. They rustled. Dense text filled them. As I read, a smile crept across my face.
The beginning described cultivation's entry stage, Qi Condensation, and higher realms: Foundation Establishment, Core Formation, Nascent Soul.
The key was the next chapter. I flipped ahead. Faded paper held an entry cultivation method.
I sat straight, cross-legged as instructed, and regulated my breath. Inhale. Exhale. Long, natural breaths—not forced, just until my body relaxed.
Eyes closed, I sensed my surroundings. From the corner, faint energy emanated from the forgotten Qing Ye Grass.
I grasped the sensation instinctively, without forcing it. Inhaled again. The subtle qi seemed to follow my breath, seeping in.
Repeating, a ripple stirred inside—like a droplet on still water. Tiny, but I caught it.
Now.
Finally, below my navel, energy gathered at a point, faintly perceptible. Once. Twice. Thrice. With each breath, the dantian's sense sharpened.
I opened my eyes slowly. The room was quiet, lamp flickering as before. But everything felt clearer. The lamp's soft crackle. Night air whispering through window cracks. All sharper.
Eyes closed again, I checked my dantian. Faint, but the qi I'd captured lingered.
Confirming it, the book's opening line resurfaced.
"One has truly entered the gate of Qi Condensation only upon accepting spirit energy into the body."
I swallowed dryly and murmured, "Qi Condensation..."
I'd just taken my first step into cultivation.
"It's really... beginning."
I smiled faintly. The lowest stage, but the path lay open now.