When Fang Muchen spoke of letting Fang Lin live a mortal life, something began to tear deep within Fang Lin. For years, he'd thought of himself not only as a Scholar, but more fundamentally than that, as a cultivator. He had set his feet firmly on a path that would leave the mortal world behind. His lifespan would be measured in centuries as he pursued ever greater heights in an even more dazzling life than the one he currently enjoyed.
Now, that deepest part of himself that knew he'd begun to shed his mortality quaked. Had he really? Was he truly a cultivator at all? Weren't cultivators powerful men who commanded wind and rain, free to walk anywhere in the world as they pleased? Yet here he stook, quaking in fear before his father and his father's pet wolf as he felt that life, the life of a cultivator, being torn away from him.
