Morning Awakening
At dawn, Li Yan awoke from a dream. The light was just beginning to creep into the room, but as his eyes blinked open, he found himself in a strange environment. The familiar dark, wooden-beamed ceiling of his childhood home had been replaced by a smooth, slate-gray roof. For a moment, his mind swirled with confusion. Slowly, he scanned the room—only then did he realize that he was no longer in the old house he had known for over a decade. A deep tinge of unfamiliarity and loneliness welled up inside him. He took a steadying breath, sat up expressionlessly, and walked to the table, pushing open the window. A crisp, cool breeze burst in from outside, refreshing his spirit and jolting him into a new day.
A View of the Valley
From the window, Li Yan observed that the valley was encircled on three sides by towering peaks that soared upward into a dark, bluish sky. In the dim but growing light, several stars still clung to the heavens, mingling with the early hues of dawn. Dark vines and dense shrubs stretched upward from the valley floor in undulating layers—almost like the rolling back of a colossal, living beast—and the chirping of birds filled the air with an airy, crystalline melody.
Not far away, behind the stone table visible outside, a small pool lay glimmering under a delicate mist that swirled overhead like a gauzy veil. The sight of the water and its pale, drifting fog lent the entire scene a sense of calm and quiet mystery.
For a long moment, Li Yan simply stood by the window, absorbing the view. Gradually, his inner turmoil began to ease. He turned away from the window, got dressed, and opened the door. Glancing briefly at several closed room doors along the left, he then padded softly toward the pool.
Upon reaching the water's edge, he discovered that the pool was roughly four or five zhang wide and oval in shape. One side of the pool lay against a steep stone wall from which two or three gentle springs flowed steadily from the mountaintop. Their cool streams had polished the stone smooth along their path; many vine roots had become exposed and swayed under the caress of the water. Lush green moss clung abundantly along the banks, forming clear little channels that carried the spring water downward.
The surface of the pool rippled softly around scattered pebbles, creating gentle patterns. Fine, white mist danced upon the water like delicate, transparent ribbons. Though the water was crystal clear at the surface, peering below revealed a mysterious depth—a deep, quietly cold darkness.
Li Yan knelt by the pool and dipped his hand into the water, raising a cupful to his face. The coolness washed over him, sending a shiver through his skin. It was a refreshing, almost invigorating sensation that eased the fatigue of his journey.
A Surprise at the Water's Edge
When he looked toward the southern edge of the pool, Li Yan noticed a vast area that resembled a garden or perhaps a flower bed. Just as he was about to approach to examine it more closely, a soft voice whispered in his ear:
> "That patch is simply where I, in my spare time, grow a few greens and wildflowers."
Startled, Li Yan spun around. Standing there amid two stone tables set before a pair of modest houses was a man dressed in a flowing black robe. He offered Li Yan a gentle smile as he regarded him.
"Master…" Li Yan stammered. Recognizing the figure as his teacher, he quickly turned, bowed deeply, and said, "Please forgive me for disturbing your rest, Master. I beg your pardon."
The robed man—indeed, Master Ji—raised a hand dismissively. "I have been awake for some time, merely meditating in my room." Then, in a kindly tone, he added, "This valley is vast enough that in time you will come to know every corner of it. Soon, servants will bring breakfast. After you have washed and eaten, come to my room here."
"Yes, Master," Li Yan replied eagerly, his heart lifting. As he watched his teacher's back recede down the corridor, he felt, inexplicably, as though the love and care of his parents in his old home were with him once more—a warm, comforting sensation that eased his loneliness.
Breakfast and New Beginnings
Before long, the same woman who had brought him food the previous night returned with breakfast. The meal was simple yet unfamiliar: a few steamed buns, several small dishes, and a large bowl of congee made with lean meat and preserved egg. Li Yan savored every bite; even the modest fare was unlike anything he'd known at home. Still, as he ate, his thoughts drifted to his parents. He wondered if they had eaten well that morning—whether they remembered him in the way he now remembered them.
After finishing, Li Yan quickly cleared the table, gathering his package from his shoulder. He then made his way to the first stone house at the eastern valley entrance. There, he found the door was unlocked—evidently, Master Ji was waiting. Standing before the door, he announced politely, "Master, I present myself."
A gentle, middle-aged voice answered from inside, "Ah, you are here. Please, come in." Accordingly, Li Yan entered.
The room was of a similar size to his previous lodgings but arranged anew. It featured a wide wooden bed along the north wall and a towering four- or five-tiered bookshelf along the west wall, laden with books. Simple toiletry items were neatly set out along the east wall. At the center of the room rested a low table on a large carpet; upon the table lay an ancient guqin with a weathered, yet smooth, surface—evidence of countless hours of being lovingly played. Before the instrument stood an exquisitely crafted incense burner, into which three slender incense sticks were inserted. As they burned, wisps of fragrant smoke—carrying a delicate sandalwood aroma—danced slowly upward, filling the room with a serene calm.
Behind the table, seated cross-legged with his hands folded in his long, flowing sleeves, was Master Ji. His face was calm, with a warm, inviting smile as he regarded Li Yan.
"Come, sit at the table," Master Ji said, raising his right hand from his sleeve and gesturing toward the carpet. Li Yan quickly removed his shoes and, following the etiquette the village tutor had instilled in him, knelt respectfully before his teacher. The sight of such proper courtesy brought an approving smile to Master Ji's features.
Lessons of the Wooden Shadows Sect
"Li Yan, today I will explain a few things about our sect," Master Ji began in a gentle, measured tone.
"Yes, Master. I am all ears," Li Yan replied respectfully.
"Our sect is called 'Mu Ying Men'—the Wooden Shadows Sect. It was founded some six hundred years ago and has traditionally remained hidden deep within the mountains, away from the eyes of the world. Our martial arts are a closely guarded secret, and our standards for disciples are extraordinarily high. Throughout our history, only two or three disciples have ever been chosen. In my generation, I stand alone as the master. Though our martial arts might not render us invincible, they are unrivaled in our era." Master Ji paused thoughtfully.
Li Yan listened with rapt attention and softly interjected, "I have heard tales—that even among the chaos of tens of thousands of soldiers, you move as though alone in a void, displaying skills that are truly unheard of."
Master Ji smiled and said, "If you practice with diligence, your achievements might someday approach, though never match, my own."
Hastily, Li Yan replied, "Master, your words are too generous. How could I ever hope to measure up? No matter how forcefully I train, I fear I will never rival your skill—your artistry only grows sharper with every passing day."
Master Ji's smile grew kindly. "A man must take pride in his abilities. Do not be so timid."
Then he continued, "My own journey down from the mountains was not solely for martial cultivation. Our Wooden Shadows Sect is steeped not only in combat but also in the study of herbs. For generations, our ancestors delved deeply into the mysteries of natural medicine in the remote mountains. Though we shun the world at large, those who have wandered and learned can still use our knowledge to heal and alleviate suffering. Martial skill, after all, is but a means of self-defense in the troubled world of the jianghu."
Hearing this, Li Yan's heart swelled with reverence. "So our sect's purpose is not merely to forge masters of combat, but also to bring healing and benevolence to the people. That is truly the mark of a righteous path."
Master Ji's tone grew somber. "Alas, about five or six years ago, while I was deep in the mountains gathering herbs, I was grievously wounded by a venomous creature unknown to me. Despite months of treatment—and visits to many good friends and renowned physicians—I did not improve; in fact, my condition worsened. I could neither discover the true nature of this poison nor find a cure. Even now, as the toxin slowly corrodes my inner organs, I can only suppress it with my own inner power. This measure may, at best, hold for another seven or eight years. Now, having spent roughly six years in this struggle, it seems fate has decreed that a cure will not be found."
Li Yan was shocked. Glancing at Master Ji's face, he noticed that despite the calm exterior, a faint black aura shadowed his features. "So… Master, you have accepted that there is no cure?" he asked hesitantly.
Master Ji gave a rueful smile. "It matters little. Life and death are ultimately determined by fate."
Desperation welled up in Li Yan. "Then what shall we do?"
Master Ji extended his hand in gentle reassurance. "Do not be anxious, Li Yan. It is precisely because of this predicament that I have come from my secluded life to search for a worthy disciple—a successor to carry on our legacy. If I lose our lineage, how shall I ever face the ancestral masters in the afterlife? Our sect's training is harsh and demands a special, hidden constitution. Only those with this innate trait can safely practice our secret method without risking their own lives through catastrophic qi backflow. Such individuals are exceedingly rare. In the past, our previous masters wandered far and wide, seeking that one perfect soul. These days, however, within the army among countless young men possessing robust physiques, the chances are far greater."
Li Yan's mind raced. "So your coming to the military was to find a disciple of this special kind?" he thought. He recalled the peculiar silver needle method Master Ji had demonstrated the previous day—a test meant to reveal this unique, hidden potential. Yet the memory of the pain searing through his abdomen sent a shiver of apprehension through him.
Master Ji seemed to read his thoughts and said, "This special constitution is like a hidden treasure—it cannot be awakened by any other means. Yes, the activation might be painful, but it is the key prerequisite for mastering our inner method. I have searched among tens of thousands of soldiers over the past five or six years and found only two candidates with such potential. One was found last year, and the other, I believe, is you."
Li Yan was stunned. He thought, "Two? But isn't our valley only occupied by you and me? I never recall Chen An or Li Yin speaking of another… Besides, I've seen both your private quarters and the adjoining practice room; the other two stone houses have all been visited. I even stayed in one of them." He recalled vaguely that, at the training ground yesterday, Master Ji and Marshal Hong had spoken of "the one previously chosen"—though he hadn't caught everything.
Master Ji, noting Li Yan's perplexed expression, said slowly, "Are you wondering because you didn't see the other one I mentioned? That person, in fact, is your senior brother—a disciple I discovered at the beginning of last year who joined our sect. Do you recall that yesterday when I asked if you had studied in school after testing your constitution?"
Li Yan nodded solemnly. "Yes, Master, I remember."
Master Ji's tone turned regretful. "But your senior brother never learned to read. I believed that under my direct guidance he could cultivate properly. In my haste, however, I underestimated the fierce demands of our sect's inner method. After he practiced for more than a month, during a time when I was in the city discussing affairs with the Marshal, he attempted to continue his training on his own. Lacking sufficient comprehension, his qi and blood reversed disastrously. By the time I returned, he had... alas…" His voice faltered, and sorrow crept into his eyes. "I must take responsibility for my haste. The poison within me—this curse I have suffered from—has taken a terrible toll on my body. In my desperate search to preserve our sect's legacy, I rushed my teaching. In the end, it was an error from which there is no return."
Li Yan's heart pounded with shock. "So the one found earlier has already perished?" he murmured. A cold-shudder crept along his spine as he thought, "If his potential was superior and yet he perished, then how can mine compare? If even a man with superior aptitude could suffer such a fate, then what hope do I have?"
He lifted his eyes to his teacher, and his voice wavered as he stammered a reluctant, "Master…" He nearly pleaded that perhaps he was unworthy of continued training, but when he saw a glimmer of hopeful resolve—and even a trace of longing—in Master Ji's tearful, earnest gaze, he hesitated. He thought, If I retreat now, I will be sent back to the village. How then can I face my parents? Even if I were to start again as a mere soldier, I would be forced to battle in endless skirmishes, with my very fate left to chance. Neither outcome appeals to me. Perhaps I must risk it all. After all, I have studied diligently in private school; when the time comes, if I fail to grasp the true essence, I will simply cease to force myself further. And let it be known that no one gains greatness without struggle." With that thought, Li Yan's gaze grew determined as he resolved quietly within himself.
Master Ji smiled knowingly. "Ever since that tragedy occurred, I lowered my expectations. I feared I would not have enough time to find a disciple worthy of continuing our lineage. Yet fate, in its mysterious way, has granted me a second chance—even in what seems like the twilight of my days."
At these words, Li Yan's heart skipped a beat. He realized that his teacher had, against all odds and in defiance of his failing condition, chosen him as the one to inherit the rare and perilous teachings—a responsibility both daunting and filled with promise.
In this passage, Li Yan grapples with the realization that his life has irrevocably changed. Awakening in a new, austere mountain valley far removed from the cozy familiarity of his childhood home, he slowly acclimates to his surroundings—the silent majesty of peaks, the gentle murmur of a hidden pool, and the delicate interplay of mist and light all inspire a mixed sense of wonder and melancholy. As he begins his day, simple rituals like washing his face with cool water become moments of quiet solace amid the uncertainty. Soon, he is greeted by his revered teacher, Master Ji, whose calm yet sorrowful tone reveals the weight of the sect's legacy. Master Ji explains the storied history of the Wooden Shadows Sect and recounts his own tragic struggle with a lingering poison—one which has driven him in his desperate search for a disciple with the uniquely hidden constitution required to safely master their dangerous, yet life-altering, inner method. Confronted by the revelation that his teacher's previous disciple perished from a misguided attempt at self-cultivation, Li Yan is overcome with fear and doubt. Yet, as he contemplates the alternatives—returning to a life in the village or facing a life of constant battlefield peril—he resolves to forge ahead, determined to seize this singular, fate-bound opportunity.