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Chapter 1 - Stone the Brave Meets Water Spirit Sect

The Fifteenth Day of the First Lunar Month, Cangnan Town

In a dilapidated mountain temple, a boy of fifteen or sixteen stared intently at a bamboo stick in his hand, drooling. Skewered on the stick was a plump roasted pheasant.

This boy was none other than the famous "Stone the Brave" of the village. His real name was Shi Chuan, but his boldness and fearlessness had earned him his nickname. Not only did the village children admire him, but even the adults praised his courage.

A few winters earlier, a pack of hungry wolves had descended upon the village, terrorizing everyone to the point where no one dared leave their homes—even to gather firewood. Armed with only a sickle at his waist, Shi Chuan ventured into the mountains alone. For three days and nights, there was no sign of him. Just as the villagers assumed the wolves had devoured him, Shi Chuan returned—with the head of a one-eyed wolf, the alpha male, hanging from his waist. The elders recognized it immediately as the wolf king. From that day on, no wolf pack dared approach the village again, and Shi Chuan earned the name "Stone the Brave."

"Brother Stone, my mother asked me to bring you some mooncakes!" A voice as clear as wind chimes called from outside the temple.

"Qingchuan!" Shi Chuan tossed the pheasant onto the temple's altar and rushed out.

"Why aren't you celebrating the festival at home? What are you doing here?" he asked sternly, though his eyes lingered on the half-mooncake in Qingchuan's hand. His throat bobbed as he swallowed hard.

Shi Chuan's parents had gone out to gather firewood when he was six—and never returned. His family's house and meager farmland were seized by a distant uncle. For the first few years, they at least gave him enough food to survive, but by the time he turned ten, they drove him out, forcing him to take shelter in this broken-down mountain temple.

"Eat it quickly!" Qingchuan pressed the mooncake into Shi Chuan's hand and turned to run back to the village.

Shi Chuan didn't stop her. Over the years, during every festival, Qingchuan would sneak treats from home to bring to him. This half-mooncake was undoubtedly something she had saved for him, unable to bear eating it herself. Shi Chuan knew all too well what kind of people his uncle and aunt were.

The couple had perfected the art of penny-pinching. They doted on their two sons, but as for Qingchuan—their daughter—they treated her only slightly better than they treated Shi Chuan. In their words, "A daughter will marry into another family someday. No matter how well we raise her, she'll belong to someone else. As long as she's pretty enough to marry into a good family, that's enough."

Oddly enough, their two sons, Shi Neng and Shi Li, were ugly and crooked-looking, clearly troublemakers. But Shi Qingchuan was delicate and pretty. Though malnourished and thin, it was obvious she would grow into a beauty.

Shi Chuan inhaled the rich aroma of the mooncake, savoring each tiny bite, afraid his taste buds might miss even the slightest hint of its flavor.

It took him a full half-hour to finish the half-mooncake. Licking his fingers, he suddenly smacked his forehead. "The pheasant! I forgot to let Qingchuan try some!"

"Oh well, I'll save half for her and bring it tonight," he thought, heading back inside.

But what greeted him was a pile of chicken bones scattered on the floor. A shabbily dressed old man lay sprawled on the altar, contentedly picking his teeth—the last half-gnawed chicken claw still in his hand.

Pheasants were rare and hard to catch. Usually, Shi Chuan would sell them in town for coarse grains, oil, or salt. But today, because of the Mid-Autumn Festival, he had decided to indulge in roasting one for himself. And now, this old beggar had stolen it.

Anger surged in Shi Chuan's chest. He grabbed a wooden stick and shouted, "You old beggar! How dare you steal my pheasant? I'll beat you to death!"

"Old beggar?" The man blinked, then burst into laughter. "I saw a roasted pheasant on the altar with no one around. I thought someone left it here for me to eat. Burp... It's been so long since I've eaten my fill!"

"You—!" Shi Chuan glared at the ragged old man, so thin he was practically skin and bones. A pang of pity struck him. The old man looked so frail that a few hits might kill him.

"Forget it, just leave. I'm going to sleep," Shi Chuan waved him off helplessly. At least he'd had half a mooncake today. Thinking of that plump pheasant filling the old beggar's stomach made his blood boil.

"Why aren't you leaving? Planning to squat here?" Shi Chuan demanded.

"I've lived here for decades. I'm used to it and don't feel like leaving," the old beggar stretched lazily and actually lay down on the altar.

"You shameless old man! I've lived here for years and never seen you before!" Shi Chuan snapped.

Before he could finish, the old man began snoring.

Shi Chuan shook his head helplessly. The mountain temple wasn't his to begin with, and villagers rarely visited the rundown place. But Shi Chuan knew it was a hidden gem. No matter how fierce the winter winds blew outside, the temple remained warm. And during the sweltering summer, it stayed cool and comfortable. Shi Chuan secretly believed it was the mountain god's blessing. Though the temple was dilapidated, he always kept the altar clean—until now, when the old beggar had turned it into his bed.

Giving the old man a light tug, Shi Chuan was surprised by how light he was. Seeing his emaciated body and protruding veins, Shi Chuan's heart softened. Having grown up in hardship himself, he sympathized with the beggar's plight. Gently, he carried the old man to his own straw bedding and sat quietly beside him.

Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale…

At some point, Shi Chuan had discovered that this simple breathing exercise gave him a peculiar sensation. No matter how exhausted he was, a few moments of focused breathing would wash away his fatigue. Even more astonishing, prolonged practice seemed to increase his strength. This was how he had mustered the courage to slay the wolf king amidst the pack.

Naturally, Shi Chuan never spoke of this strange phenomenon to anyone. He had once tried teaching a few village children the method, but none experienced the same effects.

This only deepened his belief that the mountain god had blessed him.

The Next Morning

After a night of breathing exercises, Shi Chuan stood up feeling refreshed.

"Awake? Good. Now go fetch some food," the old beggar said, lounging on the straw with a dry stalk of grass between his teeth, grinning.

"You still have the nerve to ask for food? Do you know how much corn that pheasant could've traded for yesterday?" Shi Chuan fumed.

"So what? If I hadn't eaten it, it would've gone into your belly. Were you planning to trade it for corn after roasting it?" the beggar retorted shamelessly.

"If I'd eaten it, I wouldn't be hungry today," Shi Chuan grumbled, his stomach growling. A big appetite was a curse—he couldn't remember ever feeling full.

"Besides, we're not family. Why should I care if you starve?"

The old beggar chuckled. "Hunger gives you energy for the journey. Right now, I don't have an ounce of strength left..."

"You'll leave once you've eaten?" Shi Chuan's eyes lit up, and he dashed outside.

After a night of breathing and thinking, Shi Chuan had been plotting how to get rid of the old beggar. To his surprise, the man actually intended to leave.

Just as he stepped out of the temple, he saw Shi Qingchuan running toward him, panting heavily. "Brother Stone, big news! Huge news!"

Shi Chuan glanced at the village. Morning smoke curled from chimneys—no sign of bandits. "Did the wolves return?"

"No… no…" Qingchuan clutched her waist, catching her breath before saying, "Some immortals just arrived. They're recruiting disciples and asked all children under fifteen to come!"

"Immortals? Recruiting disciples? To become immortals—is it real?" Other children might not understand, but Shi Chuan knew exactly what immortals represented.

In his mind, immortals meant eternal life, the power to summon wind and rain.

"Let's go, quick!" Shi Chuan grabbed Qingchuan's hand and sprinted downhill.

Inside the temple, the old beggar murmured to himself, "They've come, just as I foresaw. My calculations were correct." But seeing Shi Chuan's retreating figure, he shouted, "Wait! I still have something to tell you!"

Shi Chuan didn't hear him. Hoisting the breathless Qingchuan onto his back, he raced toward Stone Village.

At the Village Entrance

Under the ancient locust tree, a thick crowd had gathered. Using his brute strength, Shi Chuan shoved his way to the front.

Beneath the tree stood a few unfamiliar young men and women, all in their twenties. Beside them stood several village children, their faces glowing with joy—clearly, they had been chosen as disciples.

One of the young men scanned the crowd and announced, "The Water Spirit Sect honors its agreement with the Heavenly Cloud Sage, returning every twenty years to recruit disciples. This is the tenth and final time—"

"Wait! There's still me!" Shi Chuan, seeing the immortals about to leave, squeezed forward urgently.

The young man frowned, clearly displeased at being interrupted. But he said, "Step forward. Let me test your spiritual roots."

"It's Stone!"

"Stone the Brave—no wonder he dares to interrupt the immortals!"

Shi Chuan walked up eagerly.

The young man carefully withdrew a bronze mirror from his robe and pressed it against Shi Chuan's forehead. A beam of light flashed, and a yellow horizontal line appeared on the mirror's surface.

"Earth spiritual root?" The young man smirked coldly.

The Water Spirit Sect was one of the Five Elements Sects. A century ago, the Five Elements Sect had split into metal, wood, water, fire, and earth factions. Though the grandmaster of the Five Elements Sect still nominally ruled, his authority was a mere formality. Each faction took disciples corresponding to their element and operated independently.

Thus, in the eyes of this Water Spirit Sect cultivator, Shi Chuan's earth spiritual root was nothing but trash.

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