The ceremony of apprenticeship was completed.

This was merely the overall trend; it was not only the basic elixirs that were affected, but also the ones favored by the middle ranks, such as the Heart-Calming Elixir needed by the old Daoist Ji Xu. But precisely here lay the problem. Dan Pavilion One was obliged to supply the foundational needs of the lower echelons of cultivators, and naturally, the allocations to the middle ranks became scant, with little hope for quality. Meanwhile, the rarefied elixirs required by those at the top came directly from the Hall of Spirit Guidance, leaving the pitiable middle cultivators stranded—too high for the low, too low for the high.

Daoist Ji Xu, harboring selfish motives, deliberately allowed the vicious beast to cause trouble and then turned around to lay blame on Dan Pavilion One. Today, he even had the gall to attend this apprenticeship ceremony, all in hopes of currying favor with the Hall of Spirit Guidance. After all, their elixirs were renowned as the finest, and everyone coveted even a mere taste.

Given the sect’s usual disposition, they would hardly risk souring relations with Ji Xu over a mere novice. At this rate, with Ji Xu having stirred up trouble, the Azure Mountain Sect would soon learn of the discord between Dan Pavilion One and Ji Xu. Perhaps, indeed, he would be allowed a share of the profits.

"I don’t mind being taken to task by that cantankerous Daoist, but I pity my junior, Wang Hao. I doubt he’ll be able to advance to the inner sect within half a year. His fate is just a little lacking—even our master laments the wasted potential," the boy sighed softly, shaking his head as he turned to leave.

"I met Wang Hao once. Where is he now? After today’s ceremony, I shall bring a small gift and pay him a visit…" Perhaps out of shared misfortune, Qin Chuan felt a pang of regret, yet could do nothing to help.

After parting with the boy, he turned and made his way to the Ancestral Hall.

He had seldom visited this hall; prior visits had been fleeting glances, but today he finally saw it in its entirety. At the center stood a colossal statue of the Primordial Lord of Heaven. Strangely, the space within the room seemed to defy proportion, housing a spiritual icon far larger than the hall itself.

Around him drifted wisps of sandalwood incense, the pale smoke tracing ethereal patterns, outlining an aura of immortal grandeur. The statue seemed as if shaped not by human hands, but by the workings of nature itself, a spiritual stone birthed by heaven and kissed by magpies.

The statues of the Lord of Spiritual Treasures and the Lord of Dao and Virtue stood in side halls to the left and right.

Taking a few steps forward, Qin Chuan parted the drifting vapors with a wave, revealing the hall’s every detail. The ancestral tablets, enshrined before the statue of the Primordial Lord, stood precisely arranged. Below them were intricately carved incense burners, their designs nearly leaping to life, surely the work of a master artisan.

On either side of the main hall hung diagrams of the innate Eight Trigrams, while at the center of the floor lay the interlocking yin-yang fish forming a Taiji symbol.

The hall was already filled with guests: venerable elders with snow-white hair and beards, and middle-aged Daoists clad in long robes with dignified whiskers. Though they were many, the space did not feel crowded.

Master Su stood slightly to the right of center, dressed in austere robes, a gentle smile on her lips, silent and reserved.

Qin Chuan composed himself, calming his breath, and spoke with clear, steady voice, neither servile nor arrogant. "Disciple Qin Chuan pays respects to Master, to the heads of the seats, and to the honored uncles!"

"Rise," Master Su nodded, evidently satisfied with his conduct.

Though Qin Chuan could not be called exceedingly handsome, his features were bright and spirited, his posture upright, and the fit of his Daoist robes made it impossible for anyone to harbor ill will towards him.

Then followed the ceremonial bows: three prostrations and nine kowtows, paying respects in turn to each uncle, elder, seat-holder, and sect master. Not daring to slight the ritual, his forehead was soon swollen from the repeated bows.

The sound of flesh striking stone echoed through the hall—thud, thud—eliciting barely suppressed laughter from the boys seated beside the various Daoists. Who could blame them? The Hall of Spirit Guidance’s reputation was so far-reaching that everyone wished to make ties, and so even the most distant of uncles and elders made an appearance. With so many present, fairness demanded that each be honored with a bow—none could be left as mere onlookers.

"Disciple Qin Chuan pays respects to Uncle Zhang Xing," Qin Chuan intoned, his expression unchanged, straightening his robe and bowing deeply.

"Thump."

"Good child, quickly rise," Daoist Zhang Xing said, eyes narrowed with a smile. He retrieved a pill from his storage pouch, held it between thumb and forefinger as if holding a knife, and with a bit of force, ground it to dust. With a light flick, and without any visible spell, the powder transformed into a stream of azure light, floating and merging into Qin Chuan’s brow.

The sensation was like cool silk threading through him, so soothing he nearly sighed aloud.

"Junior brother, your water-retrieving technique is truly remarkable!" A middle-aged Daoist nearby could not help exclaiming.

"A trifling trick, nothing more," Zhang Xing replied modestly, as though it were nothing at all.

This was merely a minor digression. Once Qin Chuan finished his rounds of kowtowing to all present elders, the true proceedings began.

"A cultivator walks the path of self-cultivation; neglect the outer, and the inner cannot be accomplished. Without accumulation of virtue, the Dao cannot be attained. To serve the teacher is the student’s duty. If you do not recognize such opportunity, it is better not to cultivate at all. Let us encourage one another in this pursuit of the Way. Compassion…"

Master Su began to chant. Her voice, though not loud, seemed to reach the heavens, drawing down celestial resonance. For a moment, it was as if he stood by the banks of the River of Forgetfulness, dewdrops glistening on orchid shoots before his eyes. Outside the hall, immortal birds called out in harmony, their cries drifting in the breeze.

As the chant concluded, the crowd cast aside all trace of amusement, their minds sinking into a meditative calm, achieving a state of pure unity.

Master Su paid no heed to the silence, nor to the reverent postures. She lifted a slender, jade-like finger, from which a point of spiritual light touched Qin Chuan’s brow like a dragonfly alighting on water.

Borrowing her own immortal destiny, she sought to guide him on the path; by the principles of scripture, to lead him toward the Dao. Reciting the teachings, she invoked the rites of repentance for past and present transgressions, and conferred upon him the Three Refuges and Five Precepts.

Qin Chuan understood the import, and, following Master Su’s lead, chanted the scriptures in response. Thus, master and disciple echoed one another, sealing the bond in the eyes of Heaven. With the final words, the rite was complete. They paid respects to the ancestral tablets, offered tea, and so the day’s ceremony ended.

What followed was mere formality. The various uncles and elders, not to be outdone, each presented a congratulatory gift, reciting blessings for the prosperity of the Hall of Spirit Guidance and the ascension of its disciples.

When all the guests had departed, only master and disciple remained in the ancestral hall.

"I have elixirs to refine; go and practice on your own. Your destiny is not lacking—use the herbal compendium well, and your pursuit of the Dao should not be difficult." With that, she transformed into ripples and vanished, leaving Qin Chuan speechless.

He could not help but grumble inwardly: Has the relationship between master and disciple grown this cold? What of the promise to teach and dispel doubts?

The thought made him feel more like free-range poultry in a village, uneasy and uncertain as he left the hall.

Since the matter was settled, there was no rush to cultivate. He decided instead to visit Wang Hao.

Qin Chuan had been an ordinary youth from Crooked Jujube Village. Though more perceptive than most, he was always kind-hearted. After over a year wandering as a refugee and seeing the world’s indifference, his temperament had inevitably changed. Yet, beneath the surface, a passionate heart still beat.

Upon hearing that Wang Hao, a fellow who had also recently shed his status as a nominal disciple, had met with misfortune, Qin Chuan could not help but feel troubled.

The sun had not yet reached its zenith; if he set out now and walked briskly, he could return by nightfall. Having made up his mind, he quickly gathered his belongings and set out alone.

But just as he was about to step out of the hall, a voice called from behind.

"Wait… wait a moment."

Perhaps she had hurried, for Li Yue was slightly out of breath and her face pale. "Master instructed me to give these to you."

Accepting the two white porcelain bottles with pleasure, Qin Chuan shook them gently—each contained a single pill.

"This is a Bone-Mending Pill; this one, a Barrier-Breaking Pill." The neat characters on their labels made their identities clear at a glance.

Qin Chuan’s spirits lifted. He had been in need of a healing elixir, and Master Su, knowing his need, had thoughtfully provided the Bone-Mending Pill.

After straightening his robe, he bowed deeply in the direction of the hall, a smile brightening his face.

As for the Barrier-Breaking Pill, he would ask about it another time.

He packed the bottles into his storage pouch and set off.

Qin Chuan was swift of foot; what would take an ordinary person a full day, he covered in just over two hours. By noon, he retrieved a gourd from his pouch, filled with cool spring water, and drank it down with a few gulps, letting out a sigh. The technique of tempering the body with the dual energies of heaven and earth seemed to have lost its efficacy.

He had long suspected as much, but still felt a pang of disappointment. All along the way, he did not use his cultivation to resist the searing heat that invaded his body, feeling his cheeks flush hot.

This only confirmed his suspicions. No longer hesitating, he activated the breathing technique from the Mustard Seed Immortal Manual, and his spiritual energy immediately flowed, easing the redness from his face.

Intent on his journey, he did not stop to rest, and by giving his all, he arrived only a little later than planned as dusk fell.

The Azure Mountain Sect was nestled among vast mountains, with countless peaks shrouded in clouds and mists. Unfamiliar with the roads, he lost some time winding through the labyrinthine terrain.

"Wang Hao, look who’s here!" His voice arrived before he did.

Wang Hao’s left calf was bound with bamboo splints and rough cloth—clearly a broken bone, rendering him unable to walk.

He lay on his bed, staring blankly at the simple ceiling. Through the small window, golden sunlight poured in, illuminating motes of dust drifting lazily through the air.

Perhaps the solitude had weighed on him, and unable to circulate his energy, his gaze followed a slightly larger speck as it floated out of reach, lost in thought. He reached out to catch it, but his fingers closed on nothing.

The more he tried to grasp it, the more it slipped away.

Suddenly, a voice sounded—strange yet familiar. Before he could react, the person knocked twice on the door and came in without waiting for a reply.

"So it’s Senior Brother Qin Chuan!"

Like a man stung by a needle, Wang Hao jerked his hand back, his expression instantly changing, a smile blossoming on his face.

He had not expected Qin Chuan to come, and as he recalled what his master had said that morning, his heart ached.

He had lain there in a daze for a long time, pondering how much better things might have been had he stayed in the Hall of Spirit Guidance—perhaps he would have avoided this calamity, and his path to immortality would have been far smoother.

"I haven’t yet congratulated you on finding a great master, and now I’ve troubled you to make this trip."

"Come, sit!"

Seeing the flicker in Wang Hao’s eyes, the pretense of ease barely masking his sorrow, Qin Chuan’s heart was filled with emotion.