Er-ling stared straight ahead at the black roof made of reed and mud, his old cotton quilt, now deep yellow and faded beyond recognition, still faintly emitting a subtle mustiness. Beside him,紧挨着, was his second brother, Han Zhu, sleeping soundly and softly snoring with occasional deep and shallow breaths. About half a zhang away from the bed stood a wall of mud plaster, cracked along several thin, barely noticeable seams over time, through which came the murmuring complaints of Han's mother, occasionally interlaced with the soft "patt-patt" sounds of Han's father drawing and sucking on his dried tobacco pipe. Er-ling slowly closed his eyes, which were slightly stiff, urging himself to fall into deep sleep as soon as possible. He was very aware that if he didn't settle down and sleep properly, he would be unable to rise early tomorrow, and thus would miss the chance to join his companions in gathering dry wood in the mountains. Han Li was a rather plain name—his parents couldn’t have come up with anything so neat and formal. It was his father who, using two coarse-grained steamed buns as a metaphor, asked the village elder, Old Zhang, to name him. When Old Zhang was young, he had served as a scholarly companion to several wealthy families in the city for a few years, making him the only literate person in the village. As a result, he had named more than half of the village children. The villagers called Han Li “Er Lengzi,” which literally means “the second clumsy one.” Though he wasn’t truly slow-witted or dull, he was actually the most intelligent child in the village. Yet, like many other village children, he rarely heard his full name, “Han Li,” spoken outside his family. Instead, “Er Lengzi” has remained his constant nickname. The reason for this nickname was simply that there was already a child named “Lengzi” in the village. This wasn't much of a deal either—other children in the village were always called things like "Dog-Boy" or "Second-Egg," names that didn't sound much better than "Second-Clue." Though not particularly fond of this title, Han Li had to keep reassuring himself with it. Externally, Han Li appeared unremarkable—dark-skinned, just a typical country farm boy. Yet deep down, he was far more mature than his peers. Since childhood, he had longed for the rich and bustling world beyond the village, dreaming of one day stepping out of this small hamlet and seeing the world his uncle Zhang often spoke of. He had never dared to share this aspiration with anyone else. Otherwise, the villagers would have been astonished—how could a young, inexperienced boy harbor such a thought that even adults found hard to imagine? To be honest, other children of about the same age as Han Li were still just chasing chickens and dogs around the village, let alone having the strange thought of leaving their homeland altogether. Han Li’s family consisted of seven members: two elder brothers, one sister, and one younger sister. He was the fourth child, just ten years old, and their household lived a modest life—often going without meat for several meals a year, always hovering just above the threshold of basic sustenance. At that moment, Han Li was half-asleep, half-waking, still troubled by a persistent thought: when he went up the mountain, he must make sure to gather plenty of the red berry jam his little sister especially loved. It was said that in a small town nearby, he had become a chief manager at a wine hall—a person of real standing in the eyes of his parents. In the Han family over the past century, perhaps only his uncle had been a relative of such standing. Han Li had only met this uncle a few times when he was very young. His elder brother had been apprenticed to an old blacksmith in the city, a position introduced by this uncle. The uncle also frequently sent food and household items to his parents, showing great care and attention, which made a strong impression on Han Li. Though his parents never explicitly said so, Han Li knew they were deeply grateful. His elder brother was a true source of pride for the family. It was said that as an apprentice, the brother not only received meals and lodging but also earned thirty copper coins a month. When he eventually became a fully qualified blacksmith and secured a job, his income grew significantly. Whenever his parents spoke of his brother, they would be filled with enthusiasm, as if they had completely transformed. Han Li, though young, deeply admired the prospect. His dream job had long been settled: to be taken on as an apprentice by a master craftsman in the small town, thereby becoming a respected, skilled artisan. When Han Li saw his uncle—dressed in a fresh silk robe, plump with a round face and a small beard—his heart leaped with excitement. After arranging the woodstaves neatly in the backyard, he went to the front room, modestly paid his uncle a respectful visit, and politely said, "Uncle," before standing quietly by, listening to his parents chat with his uncle. The uncle smiled warmly, studied Han Li carefully, praised him for being "well-mannered" and "thoughtful," then turned back to discuss his purpose with his parents. Though Han Li was still young and could not fully grasp every word his uncle said, he clearly understood the general meaning. Originally, the inn where the third uncle worked belonged to a hereditary sect known as the "Seven Immortals Sect." This sect had both outer and inner gates, and recently, the third uncle had officially become an outer gate disciple, qualifying him to recommend children aged seven to twelve for the inner gate entrance examination. The Five-Year "Seven Immortals Sect" inner gate recruitment test begins next month. Given his shrewd nature and the fact that he had no children of his own, the third uncle naturally thought of Han Li, who was just the right age. Han's father, usually a straightforward and reserved man, had never heard of terms like "the martial world" or "sects," and thus hesitated, unsure of what to do. He simply picked up his dry pipe, drew deeply and firmly on it several times, then sat silently, saying nothing. To the third uncle, the "Seven Immortals Sect" was undoubtedly one of the most distinguished and prominent sects in the surrounding hundreds of miles. As long as one becomes an inner gate disciple, one not only enjoys free martial arts training and meals, but also receives a small sum of silver—about one or two taels—each month for personal expenses. Moreover, even those who fail the selection process have the chance to become like his uncle, an outer gate staff member, dedicated to managing the outer gate business of the "Seven Xuana Sect." Hearing that he could earn a steady monthly income of one or two taels and have the opportunity to become someone as respectable as his uncle, Mr. Han finally made up his mind and agreed. Upon hearing that Mr. Han had committed, his uncle was greatly pleased. He also left several more taels of silver, stating that he would come to take Han Li back in a month, during which time he would prepare delicious meals for Han Li to strengthen his health and better prepare him for the trials. After that, his uncle said goodbye to Mr. Han, patted Han Li on the head, and departed back to the city. Though Han Li didn’t fully understand all that his uncle had said, he clearly understood that he could earn a good income by living in the city. With his long-held dream now seemingly within reach, he found himself unable More than a month later, the third uncle arrived at the village on time, to take Han Li away. Before parting, Han Li's father repeatedly reminded him to be honest, patient, and willing to yield in matters, avoiding conflicts with others. Han Li's mother, meanwhile, urged him to take good care of his health, to eat well and sleep well. On the horse carriage, watching his parents gradually fade into the distance, Han Li clenched his lips, struggling hard to keep the tears from welling up in his eyes. Though he had always matured earlier than other children, he was still only ten years old, and this first long journey stirred a sense of bittersweet emotion and uncertainty within him. Deep in his young heart, he had quietly resolved to return home as soon as he had earned a substantial fortune, never to be separated from his parents again. Han Li never imagined that after leaving, the amount of money he carried would no longer matter—he had instead embarked on a path of cultivation distinct from ordinary people, forging his own unique journey in the realm of immortality.