Volume One: The Way of Transcendence Chapter One: The Artisan of the Town

The street was bustling with people, a constant flow coming and going, never ceasing. At the end of an alley stood a small shop specializing in carving. The shop was modest—not thriving, but not struggling either. The vendor, a middle-aged man, worked with a carving knife, his hands ceaselessly shaping a small block of wood. His surname was Li, and in this little town, he was known by all.

“Foolish boy, fetch me a jug of knife-brew,” he called. The boy’s real name was Li Ruoyu. The only son of the middle-aged man, Li Ruoyu was, for his ten years, rather slender, his appearance not matching his unusual name. His features were unremarkable, but there was a certain delicate charm to them. Li Ruoyu loved to read, especially books of myths and supernatural tales. Upon hearing his father’s request, he put down his copy of “Chronicles of the Great Demon,” took the coins his father handed him, grabbed the wine jug, and set off toward the tavern at the center of the street.

“Uncle Wang, the usual—a pound of knife-brew,” he said to a man in his early forties, clad in a black robe. His eyes were bright, bearing the calm steadiness unique to middle age.

“Here, catch, Ruoyu,” Uncle Wang replied.

“Alright, Uncle Wang, I’m off to see your little chubby lad,” Li Ruoyu said, heading toward Uncle Wang’s son. The chubby boy’s name was Wang Bo, born the same year as Li Ruoyu, only a month apart. He seemed honest and simple, but if one looked closely at his eyes, they would catch an occasional spark of cleverness, proof he was not as thick as he appeared.

“Fatty, how’s your brewing coming along?” Li Ruoyu asked.

“You know me, still half-baked,” Wang Bo replied.

“Let’s find time to go fishing again,” Li Ruoyu suggested.

“I’ll prepare some bait then,” Wang Bo said.

After bidding Wang Bo goodbye, Li Ruoyu returned home.

“You’re back, Ruoyu!” called a woman in her thirties, radiating the gentle grace of a refined soul. She was Li Ruoyu’s mother, Shen Lan. She and Li Zhiheng, Li Ruoyu’s father, had been deeply in love for over a decade, and in the town, they were well acquainted with everyone.

“Ruoyu, though you don’t wish to learn the craft of wood carving, I won’t force you, but I still hope you’ll inherit our family’s skill, so it won’t be lost,” Li Zhiheng said.

Li Ruoyu pondered for a moment before responding, “Alright.”

“To craft something you’re satisfied with, you must envision your creation before you begin—what to carve, how to carve it, where to start, where to end. Wood carving is unforgiving; a single slip ruins the piece,” his father explained.

That night, Li Zhiheng spoke at length about the art of wood carving. For reasons unknown, Li Ruoyu felt a lingering unease in his heart.

Time flew by, and the night passed swiftly. When morning came, Li Ruoyu saw his parents had already prepared breakfast and were about to call him.

“Ruoyu, in the blink of an eye, you’re ten. Today, an immortal master will come to the town, seeking children with fate to learn the immortal arts. You should try your luck,” Li Zhiheng said.

After breakfast, Li Ruoyu followed his father to the town center, waiting for the arrival of the so-called immortal master.

At the central square, many parents had already gathered with their children—some familiar faces, some from nearby villages. Time passed, the sun climbed overhead, and suddenly nine figures appeared in the sky. The leader was an elder in a blue robe, his face weathered by years, his eyes reflecting reminiscence and a hint of melancholy. Behind him followed eight others, five men and three women, one woman dressed in purple, the rest in white robes.

All nine descended upon the stone platform at the very center of town, standing atop swords. The elder spoke, “I am Ling Jiuyue, and today I preside over the talent assessment for this town. The assessment takes place every nine years. Those with children aged nine to fifteen, seize the opportunity. After all, there is a chasm between the immortal and the mortal, the human realm divided by yin and yang.”

With that, Ling Jiuyue produced nine transparent stones, resembling mirrors.

Each stone was about one and a half meters tall and one meter wide. “These are Talent Stones, which can roughly gauge a person’s aptitude. Simply drop a blood droplet into the indentation on the protrusion, then place your hand on the stone,” Ling Jiuyue continued.

After Ling Jiuyue’s explanation, parents began to bring their children up for the assessment. There were many—at least ten to twenty thousand—but the process moved quickly. One by one, children completed their tests, most returning to their parents below.

Next, Wang Bo, led by his father, stepped onto the platform, approached the Talent Stone, dropped a blood droplet, and placed his hand upon it. Suddenly, ancient characters appeared: "Gluttonous Beast Physique."

“Hm? Gluttonous Beast Physique?” Ling Jiuyue’s eyes flashed with sharp light. “Little chubby lad, come here and let me see you,” he said.

Wang Bo walked up to Ling Jiuyue. The elder took his hand and said, “Indeed, Gluttonous Beast Physique. I never expected to find such a constitution here.”

“What’s your name, little chubby lad? Stand behind me,” Ling Jiuyue commanded.

“My name is Wang Bo. I’m ten years old,” Wang Bo replied, moving to stand behind Ling Jiuyue under his father’s gaze.

One after another, children walked onto the platform, but only a select few were chosen. At last, it was Li Ruoyu’s turn. Led by his father, he slowly ascended the stage.

Before the Talent Stone, Li Ruoyu picked up the stone needle protruding from it, pricked his index finger—surprisingly, the needle pierced easily, leaving a tiny hole. He let the blood drip into the indentation and placed his hand on the stone.

A hazy gray light emerged, revealing the words "Desolate Remnant Physique." Ling Jiuyue’s brows furrowed as he scrutinized Li Ruoyu. “Stand behind me,” he said.

Time passed, and as more children finished, the assessment neared its end. Suddenly, bold characters appeared on one Talent Stone: "Born Close to the Dao."

“Born Close to the Dao—not a special physique, but a rare talent seen once in a millennium. You too, stand behind me,” Ling Jiuyue declared.

On the platform stood a boy of about twelve, Chen Cang, heir to the town’s wealthy patron. His face held a trace of pride as he calmly walked to stand behind Ling Jiuyue.

As the sun set behind the western hills, the assessment concluded. Behind Ling Jiuyue now stood twenty-nine qualified youths.

“Tomorrow morning, you twenty-nine come here and await us. The rest may disperse,” Ling Jiuyue announced.