Chapter Two: The Eternal Nine Sect

Li Ruoyu and Li Zhiheng returned home. “Ruoyu, tomorrow you’ll be going to learn the ways of immortality. Make sure to study diligently. You haven’t endured much hardship at home, but outside, it’s different. You must take care of yourself,” Li Ruoyu’s mother, Shen Lan, said softly.

“I understand, Mother,” Li Ruoyu replied.

After a night’s rest, the first rays of sunlight spread across the land. After breakfast, Li Ruoyu and Li Zhiheng hurried toward the stone platform.

When they arrived, more than ten children had already gathered with their families. Soon, all who had been chosen the previous day arrived. Not long after, eight young men and women descended from the sky, led by the elderly man from the day before. With a wave of Ling Jiuyue’s hand, a ship floated down from the air, and a staircase extended to the ground.

“Children, come aboard slowly. I will take you to a wondrous realm, utterly unfamiliar to you,” Ling Jiuyue announced.

Once all the children had boarded, the ship lifted into the sky, leaving the town behind. Onboard, Li Ruoyu approached the plump Wang Bo and sat beside him.

“Fatty Duan, where do you think this ship is taking us?” Li Ruoyu asked.

“My father said it’s heading to an immortal sect,” Wang Bo replied.

The ship soared steadily through blue skies and white clouds. Suddenly, a giant bird flew toward them.

“Hmph, vile beast.” Ling Jiuyue’s voice rang out as he summoned the precious sword he’d stood upon the day before. It shot toward the bird, and with a sharp sound, the bird’s wing was severed. Blood gushed from the wound, and with a pitiful cry, the bird plummeted earthward. Li Ruoyu watched, struck by a sense of familiarity. “That’s it! Isn’t this the Golden-Winged Roc from the Demon Chronicles?” he thought.

As the ship left the fallen roc behind, Ling Jiuyue reassured them, “With me here, there’s no need to fear. It was merely a mongrel-blooded Golden-Winged Roc.” His face was calm and confident.

The ship continued its journey. Some children, unable to contain their curiosity, leaned over the railing to peer outside. Others, like Li Ruoyu and Wang Bo, sat quietly in a corner, while some, such as Chen Cang, gazed about incessantly.

After about an hour, the ship slowed and began its descent. Before them appeared a vast complex of pavilions and towers. One tower stood out prominently, backed by a mountain that pierced the sky, surrounded by numerous smaller peaks. White cranes flew between the mountains, mist drifted among the peaks, and figures could be glimpsed moving in the haze.

At the foot of the mountain stood a colossal stone stele, twenty meters high, inscribed with three words: “Hengjiu Sect.” The Hengjiu Sect was one of the seven great sects of the Yan Kingdom, its history stretching back three thousand years to its founding by the first patriarch, Daoist Tianheng. Tianheng’s origins were shrouded in mystery; he seemed to have appeared suddenly in Yan, possessing immense power and ruthless means. Upon arrival, he seized the very mountain where the Hengjiu Sect now stood and established a legacy that endures to this day.

The ship landed on a circular platform beneath the highest peak. Ling Jiuyue led the way ashore, standing at a designated spot, with the eight young men and women at his back. Li Ruoyu and the other children followed, gathering behind them. As time passed, more ships arrived, until nearly a thousand people stood upon the vast platform.

Suddenly, a middle-aged man clad in purple appeared out of nowhere. His features were refined, yet the crow’s feet at his eyes and his long, white hair betrayed the years he had seen, and his gaze bore the mark of many trials.

“I am the master of this place, Heng Yi,” the man announced.

He continued, “Our Hengjiu Sect was founded by Patriarch Tianheng and has a history spanning over three millennia. You are the latest disciples, and I hope you will inherit the will of your forebears and one day tread the path to immortality.” With those words, Heng Yi vanished.

Another elder now appeared where Heng Yi had stood. This one radiated a sense of twilight, as though he were at death’s door, yet his every word and gesture belied that impression. He wore plain grey robes that suited his air of decline.

“In the days to come, you will spend a long time here. May you leave behind the mundane and reach the realm of immortals,” the grey-robed elder intoned.

He continued, “For the next three years, you will cultivate here. I hope you will soon rid yourselves of worldly dust and begin your path to transcendence.” With that, he mounted a great bronze bell and flew off into the distance.

“Now, follow me to the outer disciples’ hall to collect your tokens, robes, and other basic necessities,” Ling Jiuyue instructed.

Li Ruoyu, Wang Bo, and the others followed Ling Jiuyue to receive their supplies. Then, he led them to a mountain peak to find their lodgings. The Hengjiu Sect covered a vast area, so there was ample space for all the disciples.

Li Ruoyu’s assigned room was in a prime spot, halfway up the mountain. Inside, he found a box containing a set of white robes, two thick books, an outer disciple’s token, and various other items. In addition to the box, he received a sword, which gleamed with a cold, spectral light, marking it as far superior to any mundane weapon. The blade was inscribed with “Disciple’s Sword,” evidently crafted for all disciples.

Li Ruoyu’s gaze lingered on the two books. One was titled “The Eternal Record,” the other “Common Knowledge of the Cultivation World.”

He picked up “The Eternal Record” and leafed through it. The name Hengjiu Sect, he learned, meant “Eternal Endurance.” The sect’s hierarchy ran from Grand Elder, Sect Master, Elder, and Steward to Outer Steward. Disciples were ranked as Inheriting, Core, Inner, and Outer Disciples. The Hengjiu Sect was so named because it possessed nine great legacy techniques, which produced the sect’s nine top powers.

The book also contained portraits and brief descriptions of notable members. The current sect master, Heng Yi, did not bear his original name—each generation’s sect master took the same title. The grey-robed elder was Xu Changheng, Elder of the Artifact Peak. Though he held only the title of Elder, his true strength surpassed even the sect master’s, but his devotion to the Way was unwavering, and so he remained an Elder by choice. There was also an entry for Ling Jiuyue, described as a decisive and capable steward, a central pillar of the sect’s operations.