A thin, small boy, no older than seven or eight, lay on a thatched roof, gazing at the sky.
Hearing his mother's call, he started to get up, but lost his balance and tumbled down.
Fortunately, he landed on a haystack, unharmed.
Seemingly accustomed to such mishaps, Goudan dusted himself off, straightened his clothes, and ran towards his house.
At the dinner table, his mother scolded him while serving him food. "Playing at the east end of the village again? I told you to stay away from that madman!"
Goudan, wolfing down his food, retorted, "I think Uncle Feng is a good person. He's not scary like you say."
Goudan's father, usually silent, slammed his chopsticks down and slapped Goudan's head.
"You know nothing! Do you know what happened to those villagers who didn't heed the warnings? Stay away from him!"
Under his father's strict hand, Goudan didn't argue, but continued eating, resentment simmering within him.
Afterward, although he outwardly avoided Uncle Feng, he would secretly bring him food whenever he could.
Uncle Feng was Goudan's personal nickname for the man the villagers called "Madman."
He was a member of the village, orphaned at a young age and raised by the community. As a child, he seemed normal. But as he grew older, he became erratic.
He would mutter strange things.
Things like, "I see many versions of myself," and "I'm not really me." Sometimes, he would point at a villager and shout in terror, "Aren't you already dead?"
And more often than not, the villagers he "cursed" would die suddenly soon after.
Immortals and gods truly existed in this world. The villagers believed the Madman was connected to these mysterious powers. Fearing further misfortune, they decided to banish him.
But something seemed to tether him to the village. Sensing their hostility, he lashed out, injuring several villagers.
Goudan didn't know how many died that day. But from then on, the villagers avoided the Madman like the plague.
Only someone as innocent as Goudan dared to approach him.
The Madman lived in his ancestral home, a dilapidated, dark house. He would huddle in a corner, muttering incessantly.
Goudan first stumbled upon him while playing hide-and-seek, startled by the eerie atmosphere.
But when he heard the Madman's muttering, though he didn't understand the words, he was captivated.
He only reluctantly left when his friends called for him. From then on, the Madman's murmuring would echo in his ears whenever he was lost in thought.
One day, unable to resist the allure, Goudan returned to the Madman's dark house.
He even brought a roasted duck.
The aroma seemed to briefly awaken the Madman. He stopped muttering and snatched the duck, devouring it greedily.
After his meal, the momentarily lucid Madman warned Goudan to stay away.
Having lost his roasted duck, Goudan wasn't ready to give up. He questioned the Madman about his constant muttering.
The Madman was silent at first.
Then, he pulled out a stack of wooden tablets from the ruins of his house, explaining they were ancestral tablets.
He didn't know what he said when he was in his manic state. But this strange affliction had plagued the Xuanyuan clan since ancient times.
Fortunately, only one person in each generation suffered from this curse. As the clan grew, fewer people remembered this hereditary illness.
"Let this curse end with me," the Madman said, arranging the tablets in order. When he reached his own place, he placed a blank tablet.
Then, to Goudan's astonishment, the tablets spontaneously combusted, turning to ashes in the small room.
Goudan asked about the villagers' mysterious deaths.
The Madman gave a pale smile. "Preordained deaths have nothing to do with me. The rooster crows, and dawn breaks. Does that mean the sun rises because of the rooster?"
"Goudan, you must understand, everything in the world has already happened countless times. This is just another rehearsal. Just like you…"
The Madman stared intently at Goudan, a look of terror slowly spreading across his face. Then, he became manic again. Before losing his mind completely, he flung Goudan out of the house.
From that day on, Goudan believed the Madman held a great secret.
Though he couldn't understand the Madman's words, he was convinced the secret was connected to the legendary Immortals!
Driven by curiosity, he finally learned the Madman's real name from his father.
Xuanyuan Sheng.
Even though everyone in the village shared the surname Xuanyuan, Goudan felt the Madman's name was particularly good.
As time passed, the Madman's condition worsened. Even bringing him food no longer worked.
Goudan could only climb onto the Madman's roof and listen to his increasingly strange mutterings.
He always slept soundly listening to the Madman's eerie voice.
This continued until Goudan turned nine.
One night, a deafening explosion rocked the village. The villagers awoke to find that the blast had originated from Xuanyuan Sheng's house.
When they arrived, they found the house reduced to rubble.
The Madman's death didn't cause much grief. Most villagers considered his demise a blessing.
Only Goudan mourned his death. He secretly searched the ruins, finding only a charred wooden tablet.
Only a corner of the tablet remained. Unable to read, Goudan showed it to a literate villager and learned it was the character "Hong."
"Xuanyuan Hong."
Goudan had a sharp memory. He remembered the Madman placing this tablet at the very front when arranging the ancestral tablets.
Knowing it belonged to his ancestors, Goudan didn't keep it.
After respectfully bowing, he burned the remaining piece.
Xuanyuan Village had always been peaceful.
After Xuanyuan Sheng's death, life returned to normal. Goudan grew older, and the villagers stopped calling him "Goudan."
They called him by his name, Xuanyuan Tuo.
Xuanyuan Tuo's life followed the same path as other villagers.
Sowing, cultivating, harvesting. Marriage, a wife, children.
But in his spare time, he would recall the Madman's muttering.
The mystical cadence remained etched in his memory.
As Xuanyuan Tuo aged, his life seemed preordained.
Until he turned fifty.
His son fell ill and died. Unable to bear the grief, his wife followed soon after.
Within six months, he lost both his loved ones. Xuanyuan Tuo was devastated.
He felt no desire to live, constantly contemplating ending his own life.
But at the critical moment, the mystical melody that had accompanied him throughout his life resurfaced, dispelling his dark thoughts.
After days of grief, his sorrow gradually subsided.
He had no intention of remarrying.
Instead, a thought ignited within him, spreading like wildfire.
Witnessing the deaths of his loved ones, Xuanyuan Tuo realized the fragility of life.
Now past fifty, he feared his own demise was approaching.
After two days of fasting and meditation, he finally made a decision.
He would cultivate immortality!
For a fifty-year-old farmer, this seemed like a ludicrous notion.
Xuanyuan Tuo knew how absurd his decision was.
He kept it to himself, packed his belongings, and left Xuanyuan Village.
Alone, he embarked on his quest for immortality.
Fortunately, the Dao of Immortality flourished in this era. Immortals weren't reclusive. He could occasionally see them soaring through the sky above the larger towns.
After enduring countless jeers, Xuanyuan Tuo finally learned the location of the nearest cultivation sect.
The Guiyuan Sect!
After a long and arduous journey, he arrived at the sect's gates.
He was surprised to find hundreds of others gathered there, mostly children accompanied by attendants. He was the only one, half a foot in the grave, still seeking immortality.
He learned they were waiting because it wasn't yet time for the Guiyuan Sect's recruitment. The protective formation was active, barring mortals from entering the sacred grounds.
He inquired about the next recruitment ceremony and learned it was three years away.
He initially intended to wait with the others, but for some reason, he didn't find the protective formation as intimidating as they did.
Emboldened, he decided to take a chance.
And just as he suspected, he encountered no obstacles and reached the Guiyuan Sect's main gate!
Overjoyed to meet an Immortal, he expressed his desire to join the sect, only to be met with ridicule.
Fortunately, before he was driven away, an Immortal surnamed Xu, perhaps taking pity on him, gave him a basic cultivation manual and promised that if he could cultivate spiritual power within a year, he could return.
Although he hadn't officially joined the sect, he had obtained a cultivation method.
Xuanyuan Tuo treasured the book, avoiding the crowd still waiting at the gate. For safety, he traveled to a distant mortal town.
Illiterate, he sought help whenever he could, learning to read along the way.
Despite his age, he was quick-witted. By the time he reached his destination, he could recognize most of the characters in the manual.
With no teacher, he studied on his own.
Cultivation was complex. Even a basic manual was beyond the grasp of an unworldly farmer.
Moreover, Xuanyuan Tuo was already past his prime for cultivation.
And he had to work to survive…
A year passed quickly. Xuanyuan Tuo, despite possessing the manual, made no progress.
"Even if I cultivate spiritual power, I won't make it back in time."
Despair washed over him.
"Cultivation is truly too difficult for ordinary people like us."
He recalled seeing a young Immortal, barely an adult, soaring through the sky above the town.
The heavens were truly unfair!
Despair, envy, fear…
Xuanyuan Tuo slumped to the ground, gazing at the sky.
"Why can't everyone cultivate?"
"Why does the world impose such limitations?"
"Damn the heavens!"
Such curses were commonplace, uttered day and night throughout the world.
But as Xuanyuan Tuo cursed, the familiar muttering of Uncle Feng, Xuanyuan Sheng, echoed in his ears.
This time, it didn't fade.
It repeated, filling his mind.
He felt transported back to his childhood.
In the dark, eerie house, Uncle Feng stood amidst the ancestral tablets, his face contorted.
"It's happening again! Unquenchable, lingering spirits!"
"Let's all die together!"
Flames erupted from Xuanyuan Sheng.
He lunged towards the tablets.
The eerie flames spread from him to the tablets.
Amidst Xuanyuan Sheng's manic laughter, the fire consumed everything.
Only a corner of the tablet inscribed with "Xuanyuan Hong" remained.
And Xuanyuan Tuo had found it!
Xuanyuan Hong!
The three characters appeared in his mind, their golden hue bleeding into crimson.
Then they exploded!
Xuanyuan Tuo lost consciousness.
When he awoke, he stared at the sky, then at his reflection.
Something had changed.
Looking at the cultivation manual given by the Guiyuan Sect Immortal, he found it incredibly simple.
Even…
…too simplistic.
He no longer felt the urgency to return to the Guiyuan Sect.
Instead, he pondered the question that had plagued him.
"Why can't everyone cultivate?"
He knew that all beings were different, with varying innate talents.
But was there a way to enable everyone to cultivate, regardless of their talent?
The constant muttering was gone, and Xuanyuan Tuo felt a sense of unease.
But at the same time, images flooded his mind.
Images of plants, animals, familiar and unfamiliar faces, and snippets of cryptic conversations.
"How confident are you?"
"I'll do my best and leave the rest to fate."
"That's not like you."
"The difference in power is too great. I can only gamble."
"Very well, go then. May fortune favor you."
…
Xuanyuan Tuo rubbed his temples.
He felt he had forgotten something important.
The fragmented memories didn't disturb him.
Instead, using these sudden insights, he continued pondering his question.
How could everyone cultivate?
More and more images flooded his mind, gradually piecing together the life of another powerful cultivator, the "Healer Venerable."
But Xuanyuan Tuo, driven by his obsession, suppressed these memories.
He continued his relentless contemplation.
After thirty-three days of meditation in his courtyard, Xuanyuan Tuo, now emaciated, skin clinging to his bones like a skeleton, suddenly stood up.
His eyes shone like stars.
He looked towards the heavens and murmured, "Why should I plead with the heavens to become an Immortal? If the heavens won't grant it, I'll take it myself!"
"Following the heavens makes one mortal. Defying the heavens…"
"…makes one Immortal!"
Xuanyuan Tuo straightened his hunched back.
With his mortal body, he faced the heavens.
Though he exuded no special aura, he seemed undaunted.
He continued chanting, "Therefore, the path of immortality is…"
"Absorb the spirit of heaven and earth, to control its Qi;
Borrow the wonders of heaven and earth, to build the Dao Foundation;
Glimpse the laws of heaven and earth, to refine the Golden Core;
Seize the essence of heaven and earth, to form the Nascent Soul;
Extract the marrow of heaven and earth, to attain the Divine Spirit;
Offer the soul of heaven and earth, to merge with the Dao;
Defy the principles of heaven and earth, to achieve Eternal Life!"
Xuanyuan Tuo spoke faster and faster, collapsing from exhaustion after the last line.
But he didn't get up. Lying on the ground, he laughed heartily.
Weakened but having found his path, Xuanyuan Tuo drifted into sleep.
Spiritual energy converged around him, forming a vortex, lifting and protecting him.
After a while, the phenomenon subsided.
Xuanyuan Tuo gently descended, his fifty-year-old body rejuvenated. Though his appearance remained aged, he was filled with vitality.
After an unknown amount of time…
His face twitched violently.
He abruptly opened his eyes.
But they were devoid of pupils, only white.
His voice was deeper, more aged.
"The Xuanhuang Heavenly Dao is more difficult to deal with than I anticipated."
"I almost lost myself completely."
"Cough, I miscalculated."
(End of Chapter)