Chapter 6: The Hengyuan Sect

The next morning, Qiu Yuanshan and his wife, Chen Yuerong, set out early for the Yun family estate. Yun Tianhong and his wife, having heard the news from Yun Rou, met them there. The two families spent the entire day in discussion, and finally decided that in a few days, Qiu Han and Yun Rou would accompany Zhou Yi and He Yitong back to the sect to begin their cultivation. Though they were overjoyed at this sudden turn of events, their hearts could not help but ache at the thought of parting with their children.

On the fourth night, in Qiu Han’s bedroom, Qiu Yuanshan and Chen Yuerong sat with him. His mother held him tightly in her arms, crystalline tears glimmering in her eyes at the thought of her child, who had grown up by her side, about to leave. She could not suppress her sorrow.

Qiu Yuanshan, who sat to one side, felt a similar pang of sadness, but kept his composure as he spoke to his wife: “Now, now, it’s not as if he’ll never return. For our child to have the chance to cultivate with immortals is a blessing. When he becomes an immortal, we will share in the good fortune. This is the favor of the heavens to our Qiu family, blessing us with a child destined for greatness. My dear, there’s no need to cry.”

He comforted his wife, then turned to Qiu Han. “Han, when you arrive at the sect, you must come back within the first month. There is something very important I need to tell you, but not just yet. Remember this well.”

“I understand, Father, Mother. I promise I’ll visit you often.”

Qiu Han nodded solemnly. The three of them chatted for a while longer before retiring to their rooms. That night, Qiu Han lay awake, tossing and turning, his mind filled with anticipation for the day ahead—the day he would set out for the sect with Zhou Yi. In the middle of the night, he dreamed he had become a mighty immortal.

In his dream, he suddenly saw his parents being seized by a man dressed in black, who carried them ever farther away. Qiu Han chased after him, shouting, “Let my parents go!” But no matter how hard he tried, he could not catch up, and could only watch helplessly as his parents vanished into the horizon.

At dawn, Qiu Han’s mother prepared breakfast early. After the family ate, they set off for the grove at the southern outskirts of town, where Yun Rou and her parents soon joined them. It was early summer, the morning air still cool and refreshing, a gentle breeze brushing Qiu Han’s face with a hint of chill.

After a while, two figures appeared in the distance, drawing closer until they stood before the assembled families. Zhou Yi and He Yitong had arrived. Zhou Yi glanced around, saw everyone was present, and said, “You’re all here. Then let’s be on our way.”

Qiu Yuanshan and Yun Tianhong stepped forward and addressed Zhou Yi, “Immortal Master, our children are still young and inexperienced. We hope you will look after them at the sect.”

Zhou Yi smiled reassuringly, “Rest assured, uncles. With me there, no harm will come to them in the sect.”

At this moment, Qiu Han's mother, unable to hold back her sorrow, wept as she entreated her son to cultivate diligently and to remember to visit his parents often.

Zhou Yi cleared his throat and called, “It’s time to depart. Qiu Han, Yun Rou, let’s go.”

With their meager belongings, the four set off on their journey. About half an hour later, they came to a secluded mountain path. Zhou Yi suddenly halted, looked around, then turned to He Yitong. “Sister Tong, it seems we’re the last to return. The sect is surely waiting for us—but this time, we’ll give them quite a surprise. You take Yun Rou, I’ll take Qiu Han. Let’s hurry.”

No sooner had he spoken than Qiu Han felt himself lifted into the air, an arm securing him tightly. The village below dwindled to a tiny black speck, receding rapidly until it vanished completely.

“Stop looking, close your eyes. The wind is too strong, it could blind you.” Qiu Han glanced over and saw Yun Rou similarly carried by He Yitong, the two flying side by side. He quickly shut his eyes, the biting wind stinging his face like knives.

He had no idea how long they traveled, only that the flight gradually slowed before they began to descend. The instant his feet touched the ground, Qiu Han opened his eyes.

Before him towered a mountain peak, its summit lost in the clouds. Precipitous cliffs and jagged boulders abounded, a colossal crag rising straight up with another jutting across it, thrusting into the sky like a dragon’s proud head. At the very top stood a grand hall, shrouded in swirling mist, its outline barely visible amid shifting bands of rainbow light. In the distance, the cries of strange beasts occasionally echoed.

This was surely a place of immortals—the entrance to Hengyuan Sect. Hengyuan was the foremost cultivation school in the kingdom of Wu, its legacy stretching back tens of thousands of years. Founded, it was said, by an ancient cultivator, the sect was renowned throughout the region as a leader among cultivation schools.

Zhou Yi took a talisman from his storage pouch, murmured an incantation, and sent it flying toward the great hall. He turned to the others, “I’ve sent word to the sect master and my teacher. They’ll know we’ve returned soon enough.”

Moments later, a middle-aged man in black robes, exuding an air of immortal dignity, flew over from the hall and landed before them. He studied Qiu Han and Yun Rou, then addressed Zhou Yi and He Yitong: “Nephews, all the disciples sent out for training have returned. You two are the last. Are these the mortals you found with the aptitude for cultivation?”

With utmost respect, Zhou Yi replied, “Elder Wang, these two are indeed mortals with spiritual roots, discovered by myself and Sister Tong. Please, inform the Sect Master and open the protective array so we may enter.”

“Wait here a moment,” the man replied.

This man was Wang Quan, who had recently advanced to the Core Formation stage and now served as Hengyuan’s outer sect steward, responsible for the daily affairs of the outer disciples and the opening of the mountain’s protective formation. In Hengyuan, those who reached Core Formation could apply to become stewards, though not all chose to do so, as cultivation remained their foremost priority. Those at the Nascent Soul stage became inner elders, holding sway over the sect’s major decisions and affairs. There were currently ten Nascent Soul elders in Hengyuan, one of whom had reached the peak of the late stage and was honored as the sect’s Grand Elder; he spent most of his time in seclusion, seeking to break through to the next realm, and only emerged in times of dire crisis.

Soon, Zhou Yi and his group were permitted entry. Inside the grand hall, clusters of courtyards surrounded a vast open square, where disciples could be seen chatting and laughing as they passed by. Zhou Yi led Qiu Han and Yun Rou through a winding path toward the rear mountain.

A transmission talisman soon flew toward them; Zhou Yi caught it, closed his eyes for a moment, then announced, “The Sect Master has summoned us. I’ve already sent word to my teacher about you two. The inner elders are waiting. Sister Tong, let’s bring them in.”

He Yitong replied softly and led the way toward a tall building at the far end. They entered the hall, where six elders sat in two rows, five men and one woman. Apart from a Core Formation middle-aged man standing nearby, the rest were all Nascent Soul cultivators.

Zhou Yi and He Yitong bowed respectfully. “Greetings, Master, elders, and Sect Master. On our journey into the mortal world, we have brought back two mortals with innate single-attribute and dark spiritual roots, both possessing the aptitude for cultivation. We await your guidance.”