“Faster this time. Why are you taking so long to write every character?”

It was early in the morning, yet Monty already felt a headache brewing under Lillian’s constant rebukes. Given how casual she had been when it came to chores, it surprised him to see her attitude change so much when teaching him reading and writing. He took it in stride though. With her enthusiastic level of support, he was learning at a much faster rate than if he studied by himself.

“Alright, that’s enough for today,” she said only a few hours later, looking at the emptied hourglass on the table. It was something she had bought from a stall the day prior. Today was the seventh day since Monty first visited the merchant caravan, and the day it would be leaving.

Hearing her say they were done, he dropped his head on the table and groaned as if in pain.

“Finally,” he said and Lillian gave him an amused look.

“What happened to that enthusiasm you had a week ago?” she remarked with a chuckle. Monty just snorted, unwilling to entertain her for the umpteenth time.

“What’s for lunch?” he asked. Lillian hummed in contemplation before replying, “Since it’s the last day of the caravan, do you want to go find something to eat there? Those kebabs last time were pretty good.”

“I don’t mind,” he replied with an evident smile. “Are you sure though?”

Lillian nodded. “It’s settled then. We’re going out for lunch today!”

They packed up the writing materials and Lillian grabbed her coins. Within minutes, the two of them were already heading down the mountain.

“Will there be another caravan coming soon?” Monty casually asked. Lillian shook her head. “I’m not sure, but probably not for a while. Though our village isn’t small, its not really big so some of the very large caravans pass it. Also, this new year is such a special time so that might lead to less people traveling. If any come, it would be before that.”

“I see,” he said.

They soon arrived at the clearing. The smell of cooked meat, spices, and all kinds of dishes entered his nose. His stomach grumbled, prompting a laugh from Lillian.

After a few minutes of walking around, they found a relatively small stall that sold a dish similar to calzones. Lillian ordered two and walked off to the side with Monty. They talked as they waited, until Monty spotted someone familiar slowly walking along the edge of the clearing.

“Flea!” he shouted, waving his hand. Flea, who seemed to be up to no good yet again, flinched at his shout only to realize that it was Monty. He waved back briefly before running off. Lillian watched the interaction with furrowed eyebrows.

“I don’t see why you’re so insistent on being friendly to Flea,” she said. “He’s scum, just like his dad. There’s no reason to bother with him.”

“Maybe I just want to spread positivity,” Monty deadpanned and Lillian snorted. “Fine, keep your secrets.” He smiled.

Just then, the stall owner called Lillian’s name and she headed off to pick up the food. Monty did not watch her go, instead turning back to look at the disappearing Flea. His eyes narrowed, thoughts inscrutable. However, his face immediately returned to normal as his sister returned.

“Here you go,” she said, holding out of the calzone. It was wrapped in a thin paper and felt warm in his hands. Taking a bite through the white bread exterior revealed an interior of meat, cheese and greens. Steam flowed out from the hole.

“It’s really good,” Lillian exclaimed, strait up seeming to ignore the heat. Monty nodded in agreement and blew on it before taking another bite. He had not expected the food in this world to taste so good, at least on a mortal level. Immortal cuisine was a different story.

They walked at they ate. Compared to seven days ago, there were far fewer stalls and even those still out had few goods, most being packed up by their owners and placed amongst the many caravans. A few young men from the village also helped enthusiastically.

Besides the trading of goods, a merchant caravan had another purpose. It served to scout talents from the places it passed through and recruit them whether as guards or hands.

Traveling was dangerous. A caravan had to be prepared for anything but even then, its members were often killed. Thus, if lacking manpower, the merchants would hire people to make up for it. While the pay usually was not substantial, it was consistent and all but guaranteed if one’s life was kept. Additionally, and perhaps most importantly, joining a caravan would allow for access to connections and the world at large.

While older, settled down people were not tempted, such an offer was fatally attractive to young men. Monty was not interested, though. The event that would happen in just over two months was not something he could run away from. It was better to stay in the safe and familiar village while working on ways to keep his life.

Finding nothing worth looking at in the clearing, the duo made a final lap before heading back home. They talked along the way, though it was mainly Lillian telling Monty about things happening about the village and beyond.

“… recently there’s been a decrease in bandits all around the southern region. I heard that some immortals got involved and forced a bunch of gangs to break up,” she shared. “There also has been a bunch of clean up of demonic cultivators. Now, they can only lay low and hide. The righteous forces are going all out to start off the new thousand years.”

“Where are you hearing all these things? I don’t think that the others are talking about the matters of immortals,” Monty said, referring to the other villagers. From a mortal perspective, cultivators were indeed immortal.

Lillian flinched, having been caught up in her talking. “Oh, um, I heard all this from the Doc. As you know, he’s the only cultivator in Fletcher Village. If you visited him more you could learn a great deal as well.”

Though she suggested that, she did not seem to mean it. Monty did not push further.

“Maybe I will then, though I don’t want to bother him. I’m sure he’s busy, taking care of the village and everything.”

Lillian chuckled awkwardly. “On second thought, I think you’re right. If you want to know more, I can let you know when he’s free.”

The rest of the walk passed in an uncomfortable silence. When they got back, Lillian changed into leathers and went out, saying she had to hunt. Perhaps due to her rush, or that she had been lost in thought, she brought her bow and quiver but did not fill it with arrows, leaving with an empty vessel.

Monty shook his head. From what he had seen of her these past few weeks, Lillian also had her secrets. However, they did not interest him. Regardless of what they were, she was not a character that existed in the novel and probably ended up dying on the new year’s. Her secrets could not be that great.

Pushing the matter to the back of his mind, Monty entered his room and closed the door behind himself. Since the first day of waking here, he had been diligently working on his cultivation. Thankfully, his efforts were paying off as yesterday his intuition told him he was nearly there.

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“Today I will step onto the path of immortality!” he thought grandly.

Excited, Monty sat on his bed cross-legged and closed his eyes. After weeks of consistent practice the process came naturally. He calmed himself and began breathing slowly and rhythmically. Within minutes, he had slipped into a trance, his attention focused solely on sensing Qi.

The surroundings were calm. A faint breeze drifted in from his cracked-open window. Birds chirped cheerfully and trees shook gently. Although it was not cold yet, the weather was gradually chilling. Soon, the leaves of trees would start to change colors and fall.

Time passed peacefully in Fletcher Village. However, that did not mean all was peaceful.

Far away from the mountain, in a dense forest, Lillian stood panting. Around her were the dead bodies of numerous bandits. Most were not left in one piece, their limbs strewn around them and the surrounding grass more red than green.

“Y-you bitch!” Her head whipped around as a man with ragged features ran towards her, gleaming sword raised over his head. Not only was his weapon newer, his clothes were in a much better condition than the others. Within moments, he was close enough to hit her, yet her expression did not fluctuate from its icy coldness.

Faster than any mortal could react, she raised her hand towards the bandit leader. From her palm, a pale blue light glowed and within that same instant, an arrow of ice flew from it, directly piercing through the man’s forehead and coming out the back. She then stepped to the side and the corpse fell forward, sword digging into the ground.

Blood streamed behind the wound yet Lillian’s clothes remained spotless. Another gang of bandits were dead. Despite having killed so many, she did not seem bothered in the slightest. Her gaze was distant.

“Monty…”

* * *

“Finally.”

Sitting in the same position as when he had started four hours ago, Monty laughed happily. Within him, he could feel a supernatural force coursing along his veins, circulating through and bolstering him.

He had stepped upon the path of cultivation. However, after giving himself a laugh, he continued to sit on his bed as if nothing had changed. It was far too early to slack off.

A cultivator’s strength was based on their realm and level of their cultivation. What Monty had just entered was the first level of the Qi Condensation realm. Obviously, this was the weakest a cultivator could be. Thus, Monty continued without break.

Now that he had properly started cultivating, he no longer needed to spend his time searching for Qi. Cultivators at the Qi Condensation realm, as the name implied, accumulated atmospheric Qi and cycled it through their meridians, eventually condensing it into a kind of energy heart called a dantian.

As time passed, the amount of Qi circulating through Monty slowly increased. It was so sluggish that a frown formed on his face. Breath-by-breath, the difference was imperceivable. Only after time passed could he faintly tell that the stream was becoming stronger.

Monty sighed and his eyes slowly opened. A faint gleam flashed through them. No matter what, he had successfully taken the first step. There was hope for survival.

Soon, just like always, Lillian returned at sundown.

“How is your practice coming along?” she asked with a smile, sitting down next to Monty at the table. She appeared to have forgotten their conversation prior to her rushed departure.

“Good,” Monty simply replied. Using the quill, he wrote a few characters slightly faster than he had before. His sister nodded, pleased with his efforts. His next words caused her to raise her eyebrows in surprise.

“Can you teach me how to cook?” He then quickly explained himself. “I finish my chores pretty fast now and so I want to make food for you.”

Lillian crossed her arms contemplatively before easily agreeing. “Okay, sure. We can start today. You can watch me make dinner first. Don’t think this’ll let you get away from writing, though.”

Monty grinned sheepishly and scratched the back of his head. The rest of the day passed as planned. Lillian first went out to wash herself and change. She left the getting out of food preparation items to Monty and he did what he knew, lighting the fire and taking the utensils out from the cabinet.

His sister then came back and began cooking. Monty watched intently. Cooking was not something he had much experience in, his interest was genuine. Twenty minutes and with some extra assistance from Monty later, dinner was ready.

Lillian sat facing him. They ate without speaking. In fact, they had not spoken much at all since she got back other than that first exchange. Soon, Lillian sighed heavily and placed her fork and knife down.

“I have something to tell you.”

Monty raised his head. He was not expecting this.

“What is it?” he asked.

Lillian met his gaze with her own. She bit her lip, as if being undecided. She sighed again.

“Never mind. Is the food good?”

Monty did reply to her question. Instead, he said, “You don’t have to tell me right now, but if it’s related to your bad acting earlier, I hope you can tell me soon.”

Lillian heard his words and a slight color rose to her cheeks. She frowned. “You’ve really grown arrogant. Just three weeks ago you were crying your eyes out and now you’re giving me advice.

…Though.” Her voice lowered to a firm whisper. “You’re right.”

Monty looked expectant. She continued. “I’ll tell you everything at the end of this year. On the last night. It’ll be my sincerity to you.”

“Alright.” He found the timing coincidental, but did not show it. The two of them finished eating and went to their respective rooms.

Regardless of what happened in the world, time continued to flow. Days turned to weeks and in the blink of an eye, three months had passed since Monty’s transmigration.

On this day, the entirety of Fletcher Village was vibrant with celebration. It was the night of the new year, after all. In just a couple hours it would be the year 4000.

The mountain shone like a beacon from all the lights aflame. Despite it being late, no one was asleep. The full moon hung in the sky, its brightness outshining even the strongest stars.

The voices of the villagers blurred into a buzz. Alcohol flowed like water, music and dance were everywhere, and the village head himself extravagantly set off a multitude of fireworks, much to the delight of both children and adults.

There were only three people who were not participating in the festivities. Two of them were Monty and Lillian. Placing a well-spiced piece of beef into his mouth, Monty chewed slowly, savoring the efforts of his past couple months of cooking.

“You’ve really become a great cook,” Lillian complemented. “Though, I don’t know if we’ll be able to finish all of this.”

Although they were not celebrating with the rest of the village, they planned a great feast for two, pulling out all the stops. The cottage was filled with a thick and savory aroma and the table was packed with a variety of dishes from steak to stir-fry to something Monty called “pizza”.

Both of them had contributed to the cooking. In some way, it was a competition between the two.

Monty smiled. “I’m glad you can recognize greatness. You know, your cooking isn’t too bad either. Though I have to be unbiased and say mine has the edge. As for finishing everything, I know I can finish my dishes, though it’ll be tough to finish yours.”

“You’re crazy,” Lillian laughed. “You’re sixteen years away from being able to talk to me about cooking.”

He snorted. “Sometimes talent is more important than experience.”

Lillian just shook her head at that, unwilling to argue further. “Still, it was worth taking all the time to prepare this. I haven’t eaten this good in a long time.”

Monty nodded.

It took a while, but they eventually managed to clear all the dishes. By the end of it, both Lillian and Monty could barely sit in their seats.

“I regret!” she cried out, holding her stomach. Monty didn’t, or rather, couldn’t reply. He had truly gone all out tonight.

In the distance, they could hear the cheers of the villagers and the booms of fireworks. The atmosphere was very peaceful. Despite living her whole life in the village, Lillian was not particularly close to anyone and Monty did not bother to become so. Thus, even though they celebrated by themselves, it was pleasant.

Eventually, their stomachs settled down. Lillian brought out a bottle of white wine.

“I never drink,” she said. “But I think it’ll be fine, just for today.”

She first poured some in Monty’s cup, filling it. She then move the neck of the bottle to her own cup. At this point, her grip suddenly became shaky.

“Huh?” she said, confused. She suddenly dropped down into the chair heavily. Her mouth moved but no words came out.

Monty watched on in silence as Lillian’s eyes closed and she slumped over, unconscious. The wine bottle dropped onto the stone floor and broke, sending wine and glass all over.

He stood from his seat. Walking over to his sister, Monty pulled her up.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice laced with worry. She did not respond. He didn’t waste time. He left her there and walked to her room. It was dark. He directly went to her hunting pack and opened it, shifting through its contents until his hand found what he was looking for.

Monty wrapped his fingers tightly around the hilt and pulled it out. In his hand was a large, hefty knife. His footsteps tapped softly against the floor as he walked back to Lillian. She had not moved from where he left her.

Monty moved until he stood behind her. Lillian’s head was leaned back over the top of the chair, and her arms dangled limply at her sides. If not now, then never. He brought the blade up, the metal shining in the orange mixture of candle and moon light, and hovered it just before her exposed neck. He then struck with all his might.

Monty felt as if he had cut stone. Suddenly, he could no longer move the blade, even with force. His heart skipped a beat. He looked down.

Lillian’s eyes were open and looking directly at him. Her hand no longer hung by her side, instead grabbing the knife’s blade in a grip of steel. The air was so still it seemed frozen.

Then, her mouth opened and this time she had no issue speaking. With a voice that sent a shiver up Monty’s spine, she said,

“You’re not Monty, are you.”