Han Li quietly closed the door behind him. The faint sound of wood meeting stone echoed softly in the calm night air.
Inside, the room was simple but elegant—like everything in Green Maple Valley.
A single wooden bed stood against the wall, carved from spirit maple wood, its surface smooth and warm with natural spiritual energy. A small jade-lit lamp rested on a stone table beside it, glowing gently like moonlight. At the far end of the room was a meditation mat woven from spirit grass—soft, warm, and releasing a refreshing herbal fragrance.
A single window overlooked the valley, where fireflies of spiritual light floated like stars drifting through a dream.
Han Li took a slow breath, calming his mind.
Then he sat cross-legged on the meditation mat and closed his eyes.
This place… it's peaceful.
His consciousness slipped into quiet cultivation, the world fading into silence.
The next morning…
Gentle sunlight spilled through the window as Han Li opened his eyes.
He dressed in the light-green robe provided by the sect. The robe was simple, yet when Han Li wore it, his calm demeanor and sharp eyes gave him an extraordinary presence—quiet yet noble and peak beauty , like an understated prince from a heavenly realm.
When he walked through the sect grounds, whispers followed him quietly.
"Who is he?"
"So handsome…"
"He looks like a young noble…"
Most pretended not to care, but the girls… their eyes sparkled.
Han Li ignored them, keeping his expression steady.
Soon, he reached the training ground—an open cliff ringed with floating platforms and glowing talismans. Many new disciples were already waiting.
A sudden gust of fragrant wind passed, and a striking woman in red appeared before them. Her long hair flowed behind her like a tide of ink, and her eyes held both beauty and cold authority.
Everyone bowed immediately.
"Greetings, Grandmaster!"
Her voice was clear and commanding:
"Today, I will teach you your first true step into the world of immortals—flight."
She waved her hand, and a rack of swords appeared beside her. Each sword hummed with faint spiritual light.
"One sword per disciple. Fly from this peak to the next. If you reach it—you pass."
Someone hesitated and asked carefully:
"Grandmaster, can we… not use swords and fly with our qi?"
She nodded, amused.
"You may fly however you wish. Just reach the other side."
Disciples launched one after another. Some soared confidently, others wobbled like confused birds, and a few… fell screaming before their swords caught them again.
Soon, only Han Li remained.
Grandmaster Red Sleeve vanished without another word.
Han Li sighed.
Better to stay low. No need to show skill too early.
He stepped onto the sword—then intentionally slipped.
Clank—
He fell.
Again.
And again.
From afar,two elders were watching all desciples behind a floating cloud-screen observing.
The man with the short beard stroked his chin.
The grandmaster asked softly:
"Junior Brother, what do you think of this one?"
"He may have never practiced flight before," the bearded elder replied. "Let him learn at his own pace. No need to rush."
She nodded.
"Hmm… let's see how long he takes."
Just then—they both paused.
Because Han Li, after failing repeatedly, slowly stabilized himself.
First hovering low… then gradually higher… faster… smoother…
His control refined every second—not rushed, not flashy—just steady, precise improvement.
The bearded elder raised a brow.
"Oh?"
The grandmaster's eyes softened with interest.
"Now that," she whispered, "is patience."
By noon, Han Li finally glided across the air and landed on the opposite peak.
No cheers.
No applause.
Just his quiet footsteps and the vast sky watching.
Three days passed.
After morning training, Han Li stood under a maple tree, deep in thought.
I need spirit stones. Without them, cultivation won't progress.
He remembered the elder who first greeted him.
So he left and soon found him sitting cross-legged beside a calm river, sunlight shimmering on the surface like golden talismans drifting in water.
Han Li bowed respectfully.
"Elder, forgive the disturbance."
The elder opened his eyes calmly.
"Speak."
Han Li cupped his fists.
"I wish to ask… how can I earn spirit stones in the sect?"
The elder smiled faintly.
"Simple. You accept tasks."
He listed calmly:
"Guard duty, herb tending, beast care, patrols, missions… many choices."
Then he leaned slightly closer, voice lower—almost advising:
"If you want stable spirit stones and quiet cultivation… choose the herb gardens."
Han Li nodded.
"Thank you, Elder."
As he walked away, the gentle breeze stirred fallen maple leaves around him.
The next morning, Han Li stood before the sky with determination burning quietly in his eyes.
Without hesitation, he stepped onto his flying sword and rose into the air—green robes fluttering behind him like flowing clouds as he flew toward the Task Pavilion.
The pavilion was not a building, but a massive cave carved directly into the mountainside. Ancient runes glowed faintly above the entrance, spelling:
⟡ TASK PAVILION ⟡
The stone felt old—as if countless sect generations had passed beneath it.
Han Li descended and entered.
Inside, the air was cool and silent. Only his footsteps echoed softly against the smooth stone walls.
He walked deeper…
…deeper…
…until the narrow corridor opened into a vast hollow hall.
Shelves of jade tablets lined the walls, glowing softly. Some held task scrolls; others contained restrictions or warnings. On the far side, beside a stone desk, sat a middle-aged man with wild hair and tired eyes, carving wood with a dull knife.
He did not look up.
Han Li bowed respectfully.
"Greetings, Senior."
The man's carving paused. His gaze lifted slowly—sharp and old, like someone who had seen hundreds rise and fall.
"Mm."
His voice was gravel and disinterest.
"You're new."
"Yes, Senior. I came to take a task."
The man snorted.
"Tsk. Another fresh chick wanting to earn stones."
He leaned back lazily.
"What task?"
Han Li answered calmly:
"I heard the herb garden needs a disciple. I'd like to apply."
The man froze—then let out a low whistle.
"Oh? The herb garden, hm?"
His lips lifted in a crooked smile.
"Not a bad choice. Quiet. Safe. Good for those who want to avoid trouble."
Then—
He raised a single finger.
"Fee: 100 spirit stones."
Han Li blinked.
"…Fee?"
The man spread his arms dramatically.
"Of course! You think resources fall from the sky? Everything in the sect costs spirit stones."
His tone sharpened.
"Without them, you won't last a month."
Han Li hesitated.
"I… currently don't have any."
The man's smile vanished.
In one sharp motion, he grabbed Han Li by the collar and pulled him close.
"You came to take tasks without spirit stones?"
His breath smelled faintly of herbs and wine.
"Kid, without spirit stones, even breathing here costs you."
Han Li didn't panic—he simply observed.
Close like this… he could see red irritated rashes crawling across the man's neck—not natural, but inflamed, swollen, infected.
Finally, Han Li spoke softly:
"Senior… I believe you have a severe rash infection on your neck."
The man froze.
Han Li continued calmly:
"If untreated, the swelling will spread to your throat. You'll lose your voice within three days."
A flicker of panic crossed the man's eyes.
"You—can treat it?"
"Not fully," Han Li replied honestly. "But I can stop it… and relieve the pain."
The man narrowed his eyes.
"If you're lying, I'll throw you off the mountain."
Han Li nodded. "Fair."
With steady hands, Han Li pulled out silver needles—thin, cold, and gleaming like starlight.
Then he produced a small white pill.
"Take this first. It will stop the spread."
The man swallowed it reluctantly.
Han Li's fingers moved calmly—placing needles into precise points along the swelling.
The man grunted.
Then—
A moment later—
His eyes widened.
"Oooh… oooohhhh…"
He shivered.
"Ah… it's… actually comfortable?"
Minutes passed.
The redness faded.
The swelling shrank.
The pain vanished.
The man exhaled—a deep sigh of long-forgotten relief.
For a heartbeat, he simply sat there—eyes half-closed, savoring the comfort.
Then he finally muttered:
"…Brat."
Han Li looked up.
"You didn't disappoint me."
He reached beneath his desk and tossed a jade token toward Han Li.
Han Li caught it steadily.
"That token is your entry proof. Show it at the herb garden and they'll accept you."
Han Li bowed.
"Thank you, Senior."
The man waved his hand lazily, already leaning back with a relaxed expression.
"Go on. And brat—
Han Li smiled faintly.
Turning around, he walked out of the hall—green robes fluttering in the cool mountain wind, the jade token glowing softly in his palm.