A pall of disquiet hung heavy as he entered the glade. His keen eyes, sharpened by years of observation, scanned the area. A cold dread crept into his heart, for it was not merely the Azure-Veined Grass that suffered. Even the Violet Nightblooms, clinging to the far slope, were touched by a blight, though not as deeply as the Azure-Veined.

He recalled vividly how vibrant and verdant these herbs had been but the noon prior. Yet now, after a single afternoon, they were withered and wan. Kneeling, he plucked a sprig of the Azure-Veined Grass. It crumbled at his touch, devoid of all life-giving moisture. A frown furrowed his brow as he turned the brittle remains in his hand. He reached out and touched the soil. It was rich and damp, perfect for the cultivation of such herbs. An unsettling contradiction brewed within him.

After a long moment, his eyes flashed with realization. “Only one soul trod this path this afternoon,” he murmured to himself. “But could a mere outer disciple wield such desiccation? Could he be capable of such an affliction?”

The thought galvanized him. He would uncover the truth. With a flick of his sleeves, he rose into the air, mystical clouds of auspicious color blooming beneath his feet. He sped from the main courtyard, arriving swiftly at the ramshackle office of the outer disciples.

“Who holds responsibility here?” Elder Sun’s voice, usually a gentle murmur, boomed with the force of thunder. A yellow-clad disciple, bearing the surname Liu, scrambled from the hut, his face ashen with terror. He fell to his knees, his kowtows echoing like distant drums.

Elder Sun’s brow furrowed in impatience. “Is there an outer disciple here named Wang Lin?”

Disciple Liu’s heart plummeted. The elder, so high and mighty, sought a mere scrap of a student? Recalling his own past scorn for Wang Lin, a wave of fear washed over him. “Disciple… yes… yes, Junior Brother Wang Lin is registered here. Junior Brother Wang is diligent and ever-studious, applying himself with utmost care to every task. Disciple… I have always held him as a shining example… I…”

Elder Sun was both amused and vexed. The more the junior disciple stammered, the more it pleased him. The Elders of the Hengyue Sect were often, in truth, objects of pity. Every second-generation disciple held the title of Elder, yet this title was a jest when held against the Inner Court disciples. Many of whom were addressed as Honorable Uncle-Master.

While regarded as an Elder by the outer disciples, his standing amongst the second-generation was nonexistent, his cultivation the weakest of them all. Even third-generation disciples looked down on him. It was this that had led him to this ignoble task, overseeing the petitions of insignificant outer disciples seeking leave to visit their kin.

His face hardened, and his voice dropped to a low, demanding rumble. “Which dwelling houses Wang Lin?”

“In… in the Tuzi Annex in the North Point…”

Before the trembling disciple could finish, Elder Sun vanished, transforming into a streak of light that shot toward the north. In the blink of an eye, he was gone.

Disciple Liu was now consumed by a gnawing, gut-wrenching regret. He vowed, in the depths of his fearful heart, to never again mock Wang Lin. He would flatter him, serve him, treat him as if he were his own esteemed grandfather. For a man who drew the attention of the Elders was not one to be trifled with.

Arriving at the Tuzi Annex, Elder Sun swept the compound with his spiritual sense. He found no trace of Wang Lin. He paused, then entered the registry, locating the assigned dwelling. He strode swiftly towards it, unmindful of Zhang Hu who slumbered within, unaware of the Elder’s arrival.

Focusing his spiritual sense upon the modest chamber, Elder Sun frowned. “He departs so soon, does he?” he murmured. “Humph, it matters not. He will return.”

Meanwhile, Wang Lin strode through the mountains, a talisman of swiftness affixed to his legs. The enchanted parchment pulsed with arcane power. A searing heat blossomed where it touched his skin, coalescing at his feet, radiating a dazzling white light. From afar, he appeared as a true immortal.

Even the wild beasts of the mountains sensed his power. They scattered before the radiant glow, unwilling to test the presence of one touched by such magic.

The mountain air, crisp and clean, filled his lungs, and Wang Lin felt a surge of elation. He hastened toward his remembered path, putting distance behind with every stride.

Night offered no respite in this journey. The next morning, as dawn painted the sky in hues of rose and gold, he drank from his gourd of mountain spring water, invigorating his weary limbs. He looked back and saw he had broken free of the mountains and forests. Only a short distance remained to the county town, and from there, a familiar path would lead him home.

He did not pause but quickened his pace. As the sun crested the horizon, he entered the county town. The market was in full swing, a riot of sights, sounds, and smells. He purchased simple gifts for his parents and left in haste.

As the sun climbed higher, Wang Lin finally reached his village. In the distance, he saw a tall, crimson banner of blessing hanging from his home, emblazoned with a large character symbolizing longevity.

Carriages crowded the yard, and people bustled within.

Wang Lin stopped, his heart pounding. The scene before him was nothing short of astonishing. As the relatives gathered at the Wang household to celebrate the elder’s birthday saw the light flash, and Wang Lin appear as if materializing from thin air, it was met with stunned silence.

Then the murmurs began.

“Second Brother, Wang Lin has returned! Look at the boy, so handsome, so full of promise. He carries the very aura of the celestial realm!”

“Indeed! The immortal saw something in him from the start, and he did not falter. He took Wang Lin as his disciple. Our Wang family will rise on the wings of this child!”

“It was my aged eyes that failed to see the boy’s true worth. Now, I see that Wang Lin is not outshone by Wang Zhuo and Wang Hao. No, he is the dragon among men! Good, good, good!” The eldest of the Wang family, the Third Uncle, stroked his wispy beard and declared, as if he had forgotten his vitriolic words of but a month before.

“Wang Lin has always been clever since he was a child. I said long ago that he was destined for the immortals. What happened last time was just an accident. Even immortals can err, let alone us mortals. Wang Lin, do not hold resentment against your Fifth Uncle. Your Uncle Wu apologizes to you here.”

A chorus of shifting opinions rose, and the assembled relatives transformed, their faces wreathed in disingenuous smiles.

Wang Lin scoffed inwardly. At that moment, his father, clad in his best robes, emerged from the house, his face etched with surprise. He clasped Wang Lin’s hand, his voice filled with concern. “Tiezhu, why are you back? Did I not tell you to be at ease in the Hengyue Sect and not worry about your family?”

Wang Lin saw his father’s face was less wrinkled, and he smiled, his own heart lifting. “Father, fear not. Each disciple is granted leave to visit his family thrice a year. I hastened back to be here for your birthday.”

Wang Lin’s father beamed at the surrounding relatives, then pulled Tiezhu into the house, announcing, “Come, see who has returned!”

Wang Lin’s mother, surrounded by her female kin, was engrossed in their whispered conversations. Hearing her husband’s words, she looked up, her face lighting up with joy. She rushed forward, seizing Wang Lin’s hand, and showering him with anxious questions.