Chapter 1: Seizing the Skewer

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Become an apprentice to the embroidery mistress in town? Or go to the Immortal Sect and serve as a menial for the immortals? Having just turned ten, Jiang Min chose the latter without hesitation.

Jiang Min was not her full name; she was known as Jiang Min, the “Min” character granted by the temple after divination. Everyone in Weishui Village knew that the second daughter of the crippled Jiang family was clever from a young age, sweet-tongued, and hard-working. Yet, when she accompanied her parents to sell vegetables in town, she befriended the famous embroidery mistress and even received the rare opportunity to learn the craft from her.

This news shocked many villagers, for they all knew the townsfolk looked down on their kind, the poor farmers. For a time, the Jiang family’s threshold was worn thin by those seeking marriage alliances.

But before Jiang Min could leave for town, two immortal masters arrived in the village aboard a flying boat. After examining the children, they declared that only Jiang Min possessed a spiritual root—five roots, to be exact—and could enter the Eastern Spirit Immortal Sect as a menial disciple.

That was the abode of immortals! Even as a servant, some immortal aura might rub off on her. The villagers felt envy, jealousy, and the desire to curry favor. They knew that if Jiang Min succeeded, the Jiang family would become prosperous.

“Father, mother, grandmother, take care of yourselves,” Jiang Min said. She carried her little bundle, knelt, and kowtowed heavily to her elders.

Madam Jiang helped her up, worry clouding her face as she clutched her daughter’s hand and said sincerely, “Min, I know you’re ambitious. But I’ve heard that in the world of immortals, killing goes unpunished. When you reach the Eastern Spirit Sect, you must learn to hide your talents and never draw attention. If you lose your belongings, you can find them again, but if you lose your life, it’s gone forever.”

“Yes, Mother. Don’t worry. I’ll remember,” Jiang Min replied solemnly, nodding repeatedly like a pecking chick. Madam Jiang had once been a maid in a wealthy household and understood many things, so Jiang Min trusted her implicitly.

“Don’t dawdle, time to go!” one of the blue-robed immortals urged impatiently—they still had other villages to visit.

Hearing the immortal’s urging, Jiang Min quickly bowed to her family, then turned and ran toward the immortal masters. She trotted to them, offering a sweet, genuine smile. “Thank you, Master Immortal, for allowing me to bid farewell to my family. I’m ready to leave now.”

Though her face was sallow and thin from frequent hunger, she was still adorable; her large, bright eyes curved like crescent moons when she smiled, winning the heart of even the usually indifferent disciple. His tone softened slightly, though he remained impatient. “Come on, get on the boat.”

A magnificent flying vessel awaited at the village entrance, already filled with several children—those found to possess spiritual roots during the Eastern Spirit Sect’s search.

Jiang Min followed the immortal onto the flying boat, curiosity flickering in her eyes as she glanced at its furnishings and the dozen or so children aboard. She then clung to the high rail, rose on tiptoe, and waved vigorously at her family, who had come to see her off.

As the flying boat rose, her family’s figures dwindled, shrinking to black dots no larger than ants, eventually obscured by clouds.

Jiang Min’s nose stung. She drew a deep breath, pressing her lips together to hold back tears that brimmed at the corners of her eyes.

With this departure, who knew when she would return to Weishui Village?

When a choice is made, there can be no regrets.

…

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“From today onward, you are all menial disciples of the Eastern Spirit Sect.”

“According to sect rules, to ensure fairness, you will draw lots to determine your assignments.”

“Once the lots are drawn, no one is allowed to exchange their result. If anyone is caught trading lots, they will be expelled from the sect immediately!”

Hundreds of children stood on a bluestone plaza midway up a mountain.

Jiang Min, being short, was swallowed by the crowd. Even on tiptoe she could not see the overseer. She clutched her small bundle tightly, afraid someone would steal it in the commotion.

Around her, children whispered anxiously.

“I’ve heard there are many places menial disciples can go: the Alchemy Hall, Artifact Hall, Kitchen Hall, Discipline Hall, Agriculture Hall, Teaching Pavilion, Scripture Repository, Library… Well, I can’t remember the rest. Anyway, Alchemy and Artifact Halls are the best. Even as a menial, you can pick up skills.”

“The Teaching Pavilion’s not bad, either. Menials start there learning to read and reason. Being close to the masters, you can learn a lot.”

“Getting assigned to the Agriculture Hall is the worst. I came here to avoid farming, and now even in the immortal realm, they want us to farm! How mundane.”

“What about the Scripture Repository and Library? Aren’t those important places?”

“You think sweeping the library means you get to read the books? Dream on. Access is strictly controlled in those places.”

Jiang Min listened, her lively black eyes darting about. So this was a matter of luck.

“Some places are like the embroidery workshop, where you can learn a craft. Others are just labor—no real skills to gain. I hope I’m lucky!”

She clenched her little fists, silently cheering herself on.

The lot-drawing began. A middle-aged overseer carried a box filled with wooden sticks, letting each child draw one in turn. A younger overseer followed, recording each result.

Soon, the elder reached Jiang Min, holding out a box with a single round opening, just big enough for a fist.

Jiang Min, a bit nervous, slipped her small hand inside and fished out a stick from the bundle.

Shielding it from view, she peeked at the characters carved on it—ones she didn’t recognize.

“What do these words mean? Is this where I’ll be assigned?” she wondered. Illiterate, she could only guess. The young overseer was three children away; her anxiety grew.

Suddenly, a chubby hand darted out from beside her, snatching for her lot with lightning speed.

Startled, Jiang Min reacted quickly, clenching the stick, but the fat hand seized her fingers, trying to pry them open by force.

At that moment, a heavy, cold snort exploded in her mind, making her head spin and her senses blur.

The shock made her grip weaken for a brief instant.

The stick was yanked free, its rough edges scraping her palm painfully.

A thunderous voice boomed in her head, like a clap of thunder, making her dizzy and disoriented.

“If you value your life, keep your mouth shut and act as if nothing happened. Otherwise, I’ll kill you with a single finger!”

Fear gripped Jiang Min. Someone was speaking inside her head!

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She did not yet know that this was a secret transmission of thought, a technique available even at the Qi Refining stage, allowing one to send messages directly with spiritual power, undetectable by others. Having never cultivated, her spiritual consciousness was too weak to resist the pressure.

The voice in her mind threatened on, “I have powerful backing. If you dare breathe a word, you won’t live through the night.”

As the voice faded, another lot was thrust into her hand with such speed and subtlety that, hidden by the layered garments of the crowded children, no one noticed.

Only when the voice stopped did Jiang Min come back to her senses, cold sweat soaking her back, her strength nearly drained, her grip on the stick almost slipping.

She clutched it tightly, peering at the characters. The patterns were different from before!

In that instant, a wave of grievance flooded her heart, quickly followed by anger and unwillingness.

She looked up and saw a burly, thickset boy standing beside her, staring straight ahead, face expressionless, as if nothing had happened.

Sensing her gaze, the boy shot her a fierce glare, his eyes flashing with murderous intent—it was as if he really meant to kill her.

Jiang Min, though small, was bold. She wasn’t cowed by threats; her anger flared, and her mother’s warnings were momentarily forgotten.

Threaten her with death? She wasn’t raised to be afraid!

He was the one who broke the rules, so if she reported him, wouldn’t she get her lot back?

With that thought, Jiang Min’s eyes hardened. She summoned her courage, lunged at the fat boy, and shouted, “Overseer! He stole my lot!”

The boy was tall and sturdy; Jiang Min only reached his chest. She pounced and sank her teeth into the hand holding the bamboo lot, hoping he’d release his grip.

She thought if she was fierce enough, she could intimidate him, not knowing she faced a first-level Qi Refiner; her experience brawling in the village was useless here.

Her sharp teeth broke his skin, filling her mouth with the salty taste of blood. But though the boy winced in pain, he didn’t let go; instead, he roared, using the strength of a cultivator to fling Jiang Min away.

She grunted as the force hit her like an ox, sending her and her bundle flying half a zhang, landing heavily on the ground as the other children scrambled aside.

The two overseers were not far away and hurried over as soon as they saw her thrown.

The older overseer’s face darkened. “What’s going on here?” he demanded.

Clutching his bleeding hand, the fat boy cursed fiercely, “Damn brat! Are you a dog? How dare you bite me?”

“Overseer, this wretched girl tried to steal my lot—she broke the rules! Kick her out!”

As the commotion grew, the fat boy seized the initiative, accusing Jiang Min of trying to steal his lot.