**Update:** More shall be unveiled anon.

***

A warmth bloomed in Wang Lin’s breast, a stark contrast to the month’s worth of scorn he had endured. Returning to the bosom of his family, he felt at once the familiar embrace of parental affection.

“Second Brother,” a voice wheedled, “now that Wang Lin is an Immortal Disciple… Sixth Brother was blinded by foolish pride, and spoke harsh words. Forgive me, Second Brother, for I only wished the best for Wang Lin.”

Another voice chimed in, “Second Sister-in-law, my daughter, upon learning the betrothal was unsettled, was consumed with longing! She vows to marry your Tiezhu, come what may. Might we solidify the union?”

A more aged voice, tinged with self-interest, followed, “Second son, Uncle Wu is growing old, and the Wang family will soon rest upon your shoulders. Uncle Wu holds your precious boy in the highest regard. Truth be told, he shows more promise than any lad from your elder brother’s line. A fortune awaits him, I swear it!”

Wang Lin’s parents, flushed with pride and perhaps a touch of drink, exchanged glances. Soon, the birthday feast commenced, and the air thrummed with the praises sung for Wang Lin. Emboldened by the wine, some even dredged up the old injustice of his father’s lost inheritance, vowing to band together and reclaim what was rightfully his. Wang Lin’s father merely smiled, seasoned by life, and paid them little heed. The past mattered no more; his only desire was for his son to flourish, and he asked for nothing beyond that.

The day was a whirlwind of merriment. As twilight painted the sky, the relatives departed. Wang Lin gazed upon the gifts of varying size that now adorned his yard, a swell of emotion rising within him. The ancient texts spoke truth: when one ascends to enlightenment, even the chickens and dogs may taste the heavens. He understood it now.

As night descended, Wang Lin’s parents drew him close, eager to hear of his life within the sect. Meeting their hopeful gazes, Wang Lin, for the first time, wove a tapestry of falsehoods, painting himself as a favored disciple, excelling in his cultivation. His parents, captivated by his tale, beamed with uncontainable joy.

For his parents’ sake, he vowed to endure the hardships of a mere registered disciple, to swallow the barbs of ridicule. He would persevere, for never had he witnessed his parents so content.

“Ten years, is it? I shall endure it!” Wang Lin pledged to himself in the stillness of the night.

He tarried with his parents for two days. Then, on the dawn of the third, as his parents and the villagers bid him farewell, he invoked the Immortal Talisman upon his legs and departed.

Even as he ventured far, the echoes of the villagers’ envious pronouncements lingered in his ears.

Today, the heavens were shrouded in a brooding darkness. Great, leaden clouds pressed down like stones, the air thick with anticipation. Thunder rumbled, and the mountain air grew heavy with moisture, coalescing into a ghostly mist.

Wang Lin quickened his pace, finally reaching the Hengyue Sect in the dead of night. He sank onto his cot in the communal dwelling, but sleep eluded him. The image of his parents’ beaming faces burned in his memory. A sudden thunderclap ripped through the silence, and a flash of lightning momentarily banished the shadows, illuminating the room. Wang Lin instinctively clutched the beads he now carried close. During his visit, he had implored his mother to sew a hidden pouch within his robes, a secret haven for the enigmatic orbs.

Retrieving the stone beads, he held them beneath the flickering lamplight. A gasp escaped his lips as he fixed his gaze upon the cloud patterns etched upon their surface.

“Impossible! Last I saw, there were but five clouds adorning its face. How can there now be six?” Astonishment seized him, and he sat upright, meticulously counting. Indeed, six shimmering white clouds danced upon the stone.

Unable to fathom the reason for this transformation, his curiosity burned ever brighter. With utmost care, he returned the beads to their secret pouch, extinguished the lamp, and sought slumber, his mind awash in questions.

The wind howled without, lightning slashed the sky, and thunder roared in its wake. Raindrops, the size of beans, plummeted from the heavens, drumming against the windows. Awakened by a sudden chill, Wang Lin opened his eyes, and a gasp escaped his lips.

Consecutive bolts of lightning illuminated the scene. The room was filled with a dense fog, clinging to every surface. The table, the floor, even the bedding were soaked, yet, inexplicably, only Wang Lin’s chest felt the dampness. He glanced towards Zhang Hu, his roommate. White frost coated his body, his clothes clung to him, dripping. His face was a ghastly shade of purple and blue, his teeth chattering uncontrollably.

“Zhang Hu! Zhang Hu!” Panic seized Wang Lin, and he leaped from his cot. But despite his frantic efforts, Zhang Hu remained unresponsive, his breath barely perceptible.

As Wang Lin prepared to summon aid, he paused, his hand instinctively touching his chest. Doubt gnawed at him.

“How can it be that we share this room, that his bedding is soaked, yet mine, save for my chest, remains untouched?” Wang Lin’s heart pounded. His eyes darted down, and with a swift motion, he retrieved the mysterious beads nestled against his skin.

At that moment, all the water droplets in the room began to tremble, rising slowly into the air. Even Zhang Hu’s body emitted a ghostly vapor, solidifying into droplets that joined the ethereal dance.

Another lightning strike illuminated the scene. Wang Lin recoiled in horror, for the clear water droplets had morphed into shimmering, crystalline points, converging upon the mysterious beads in his hand.

With a cry, Wang Lin hurled the beads from him and scrambled away, seeking to escape the swirling vortex of water.

The mysterious stone beads arced through the air, landing upon the floor. Instantly, the water droplets swarmed upon them, vanishing into the stone with a soft hiss.

In a matter of moments, all the water in the room was gone, leaving even the soaked bedding dry. Zhang Hu’s breathing slowly returned to normal, his clothes clinging to his chilled body.

The storm continued to rage, but the oppressive darkness had begun to recede, allowing the hidden moon to cast its silvery light. Wang Lin slowly rose, hesitation warring with curiosity. He cautiously approached the mysterious beads and bent to examine them. A gasp escaped his lips.

The clouds etched upon the stone had multiplied, now numbering seven!

The events he had just witnessed sparked not only curiosity but also a deep sense of unease. Had he not awakened in time and discarded the beads, Zhang Hu might have perished, frozen by the strange power.

As for his own immunity, Wang Lin pondered, attributing it to the fact that he often drank from mountain springs and had unknowingly imbued himself with the beads’ essence.

Despite his fear, Wang Lin was captivated by the evolving clouds. What secrets did they hold? After much deliberation, he dismissed the notion of exposing the beads to the rain, fearing that such a display might draw unwanted attention.

After a moment of indecision, he carefully returned the beads to their hidden pouch. Soon after, the last vestiges of darkness yielded to the rising sun. As Wang Lin prepared to attend his chores, Zhang Hu suddenly sat up in bed, crying out, “Water! Water! I am utterly soaked!”