The Dull-Headed One gazed steadily at the thatch and mud roof, his old cotton quilt, now deep yellow with age, no longer recognizable in its original form, still faintly releasing a whisper of mildew. Beside him, pressed closely against the bed, was his second brother, Han Zhu, snoring deeply and softly. From time to time, he emitted low, steady sighs that varied in volume. At about half a zhang's distance from the bed stood a yellow mud wall. With the passage of years, several thin, barely visible cracks had formed across its surface, through which the murmuring complaints of Han Mother could be heard, occasionally interwoven with the gentle "prrt" sounds of Han Father drawing and inhaling his Drought Smoking Stick. The Dull-Headed One slowly closed his eyes, which were now slightly stiff, striving to enter a deep sleep. He knew very well that if he failed to settle down soon, he would not be able to rise early the next morning, and thus would miss the chance to join his companions in gathering dry wood on the mountain. Han Li was the name of Han Li's father and mother had not been able to think of anything so formal. It was his father who, using two coarse grain loaves as offerings to Old Zhang Uncle, requested that he bestow upon Han Li a proper name. When young, Old Zhang Uncle served as an attendant student in the household of several wealthy urban families—only person in the village with any literacy—and had named most of the children's names himself. Although villagers called Han Li "The Dull-Headed One," he was no less intelligent than any other child in the village. Indeed, among all the young ones, he stood out as exceptionally bright. Yet, like many others, he rarely heard anyone formally call his name "Han Li." Instead, the nickname "The Dull-Headed One" persisted throughout. This appellation arose simply because there was already a child named "Lengzi" in the village. It wasn't unusual—other children were known as “Dog Kid” or “Second Egg,” and these names didn’t seem much better than “The Dull-Headed One.” Thus, though Han Li did not particularly enjoy this title, he simply accepted it with self-reassurance. Han Li's appearance was unremarkable—he had a dark complexion, typical of an ordinary rural child. Yet within him lay a maturity far beyond that of his peers. Since childhood, he had longed for the rich and bustling life beyond these village walls, dreaming one day of leaving this small village to explore the world often spoken of by Old Zhang Uncle. He had never dared share this aspiration with others. Otherwise, the villagers would have been startled—how could a mere child still in his early years harbor such an ambition that even adults might hesitate to voice? After all, other children his age were still engaged in chasing chickens and dogs around the village, let alone dreaming of leaving their homeland. Han Li's family consisted of seven members: two elder brothers, one sister, and one younger sister. He was the fourth child in line, now just ten years old. The household lived in persistent financial hardship—often only a few servings of meat each year—and they constantly hovered at the edge of sufficient nourishment. At that moment, Han Li lay half-asleep, his mind still stirred with an unspoken determination: when going up to the mountain, he would make sure to gather plenty of red Sap Berries for his beloved younger sister—her favorite food. By midday on the next day, as Han Li carried a stack of wood reaching nearly his height and a full Bag of berries tucked tightly in his arms, hurrying home under the blazing sun, he was unaware that a guest had already arrived at his household—one who would forever alter the course of his life. This visitor was an especially close relative—the Third Uncle by blood. According to his parents, this cousin worked as a general manager in a wine tavern located in a nearby city—a person of real significance. Over the past century, Han family may have had only one such well-connected relative—his Third Uncle. Han Li had met this Third Uncle only a few times when he was very young. His elder brother had secured an apprenticeship with a local blacksmith thanks to this Third Uncle's introduction. The uncle also regularly sent food and supplies to the household, showing consistent care. As a result, Han Li held a favorable impression of him, even if his parents never explicitly expressed their gratitude. His elder brother was a source of pride in the family. It was said that as an apprentice, he received both meals and lodging each month, earning thirty copper coins—by the time he officially became an employee, the income would grow significantly. Whenever his parents spoke of his elder brother, they radiated enthusiasm, transformed almost entirely by the mention. Han Li, though young, admired this opportunity deeply; his dream for a career was already firmly set: to become an apprentice with a master in that small city and thus earn one’s livelihood through craftsmanship. Thus, when he first saw his Third Uncle—dressed in a newly tailored silk robe, plump-faced with a neatly trimmed mustache—he felt an overwhelming sense of excitement. After placing the wood stack in the backyard, Han Li went to the front room, modestly offered greetings to the uncle, and said politely, "Good afternoon, Third Uncle," then stood quietly by while his parents conversed with him. The Third Uncle smiled warmly at Han Li, observing him carefully, praised him for being “well-behaved,” “thoughtful,” before turning to discuss his purpose with his parents. Though still young, Han Li could not grasp every detail of the conversation, yet he understood its general meaning well. It turned out that the wine tavern where the Third Uncle worked belonged to a renowned sect known as the Seven Perfection Sect—a distinction between outer and inner branches. Recently, the Third Uncle had officially become an outer branch disciple and was now authorized to recommend children aged seven to twelve for entry into the sect's inner branch examinations. The next month would see the annual recruitment examination of the Seven Perfection Sect—this capable, yet childless uncle naturally chose Han Li as a suitable candidate. Ever humble, Han Father had never heard of such terms as “the countryside” or “a sect,” and thus hesitated. He picked up his Drought Smoking Stick, drawing and inhaling it deeply several times in succession before sitting silently with no further words. In the Third Uncle's eyes, the Seven Perfection Sect was undoubtedly one of the most prominent, if not the leading, organizations within a radius of hundreds of miles. Upon becoming an inner branch disciple, one would enjoy free training and meals throughout life, plus receive monthly allowances in silver coins. And even those who failed to make it into the inner ranks had a chance to become outer branch members, responsible for managing business operations on behalf of the sect—like the Third Uncle himself. When he learned that Han Father could expect a small monthly allowance in silver and also have the possibility of becoming someone as respectable and accomplished as his third uncle, the father finally made up his mind and agreed. Satisfied with Han Father's acceptance, the Third Uncle remained with several silver coins, promising to visit again one month later to take Han Li away. During this time, he would provide more nutritious meals to strengthen Han Li’s health for the upcoming examination. After that, he exchanged farewells with his parents and gently stroked Han Li’s head before leaving. Although Han Li did not fully comprehend all of what the Third Uncle had said, he clearly understood that going into town could bring him substantial financial rewards. His long-held dream now seemed increasingly achievable—ever since then, he had spent several nights unable to fall asleep with excitement. One month later, the Third Uncle arrived on schedule at the village, ready to take Han Li away. Before departing, Han Father repeatedly reminded him to remain honest in all matters, to yield when necessary, and avoid conflict with others; while Han Mother urged him to pay close attention to his health—both eating well and sleeping soundly. On the road in the carriage, watching his parents grow steadily farther away, Han Li pressed firmly on his lips, trying hard not to let tears gather at the corners of his eyes. Though mature compared to other children from a young age, Han Li still felt both sentimental and uncertain as he made his first journey beyond his village. In his youthful heart, he had silently resolved: once he earned substantial wealth, he would return immediately—never again allowing himself to be separated from his parents. Han Li never imagined that after this departure, the amount of money he could earn would no longer matter—he had instead embarked upon a path unlike ordinary people's—his journey toward becoming a cultivator, an immortal.