Serenitown, located in the central part of the continent, is a tranquil and prosperous village. The village is not large, with about a hundred residents, surrounded by dense forests and rolling hills. The climate here is pleasant, with distinct seasons, and the fresh air often carries the fragrance of flowers and herbs.
Most of the village houses are built from wood and stone, with roofs thatched with straw and walls covered in ivy. The villagers lead simple and harmonious lives, working from sunrise to sunset.
In the distance, a continuous range of mountains extends like the spine of a dragon, dominating the vast land. The mountains are rich with vegetation, and the sounds of birds and animals echo continuously.
Upon closer inspection, two prominent peaks rise from the mountain range, resembling humps of a camel that carry the weight of the sky. Nestled in between these peaks, on a moss-covered boulder, a young man leans against a nearby tree trunk, gazing intently into the distance. He carries a woven basket on his back filled with medicinal herbs, emitting a faint herbal scent that wafts through the air.
The young man is handsome but slender, with a hint of frailty about him. He wears a rough linen shirt, and his golden hair, tousled and unkempt, flows in curls, tied loosely with uneven cotton ropes that sway with the direction of the wind.
The mountain breeze rustles through the leaves and branches, creating a soothing sound.
At the sight of faint purple-red leaves swaying on the distant horizon, the young man suddenly perks up.
"Luck is on my side today. I've come across Spiritmoss," he says with bright eyes. Quickly mapping out his route, he swiftly moves, agilely climbing towards the summit.
From a distance, the young man's frail figure exhibits astonishing resilience as he leaps and climbs, resembling a monkey bounding effortlessly. Within moments, he reaches the peak.
"Indeed, Spiritmoss!" he exclaims joyfully.
The purple-red Spiritmoss grows on a peculiar boulder jutting out from the cliff face, its shape resembling a fang, both eerie and fascinating due to its protrusion from the mountain, almost hanging in mid-air and challenging to ascend without flight.
The young man uncoils a thick rope from his waist, securing it meticulously around a protruding stone pillar. Gripping the rope with his left hand and holding a sickle with his teeth, he maneuvers carefully, moving away from the strange rock towards the opposite direction. As he positions himself, allowing the rope to incline sharply, his left hand clings to the mountain wall, body pressed tightly against it, eyes fixed on the darkening sky, unwavering and determined.
The mountain wind intensifies, causing his fingers gripping the rock to turn pale, yet he remains steadfast, his gaze unwavering towards the sky.
Another gust of wind provides the perfect opportunity. With a swift leap, he uses the incline of the rope to propel himself towards the jagged rock. The steep angle and his precise positioning allow him to reach the precarious fang-shaped boulder almost instantly.
"Got you, Spiritmoss!" he exclaims triumphantly.
The young man swiftly harvests several stalks of Spiritmoss from the rock, then secures them in his herb-filled basket. Without hesitation, he releases his grip on the stone, smoothly sliding down to the pillar's base.
The mountain wind, at times gentle and other times fierce, swirls around, carrying bits of rock, leaves, and branches.
Emerging from the edge of the forest, the young man walks out. As darkness descends, faint lights can be seen in the distant sky, marking the direction towards his village.
"Home at last!" Liam exclaims, breaking into a quick stride towards the glowing lights.
Stolen novel; please report.
As twilight settles, villagers returning from their fields slow their pace upon seeing Liam, warmly greeting him. "Liam, out gathering herbs again today?" asks an elder villager with a kind smile.
"Yes, and a good haul it was too. Found a few stalks of Spiritmoss," Liam says proudly, patting the basket on his back.
"Such a diligent boy, just like your grandfather. Fearless too, climbing those mountains alone to gather herbs. Surely our future village healer," another villager remarks warmly.
The village was not large, housing only a few hundred residents, but to Kang Kang, it felt warmly familiar.
Faintly, voices could be heard drifting between the buildings. Through the gaps, the village square could be seen, illuminated by the glow of lamps emanating from one particular house where several villagers had gathered, engaged in discussion.
Standing at the center of the group was an elderly man dressed in coarse linen clothing. His hair, gray and cascading down to his waist, was braided into numerous small strands on his beard, giving him an air of great age, yet his eyes sparkled with vitality.
Clearly of high standing, he spoke in hushed tones while his companions nodded respectfully.
Spotting Liam approaching from a distance, the elderly man smiled and nodded, gesturing for him to sit nearby, then resumed his conversation with the others.
"Very well then, Village Chief. You ensure those villagers take their medicine regularly and avoid contact with others to prevent the spread. Also, prepare a few vacant houses to isolate them until they recover."
"As for that matter... Village Chief, I'll leave it to you to handle. When the time comes, send Liam and the others to the town."
With that said, the elder rose and, after giving a brief nod to a middle-aged man standing beside the Village Chief, he turned and walked away, heading towards the distance.
The middle-aged man remained composed, immediately acknowledging the instructions.
Liam hurriedly followed the elder, leaving with him.
Along the way, the elder remained silent, walking steadily until they reached a makeshift house of wood and leaves, where he entered.
The house was small and humble inside. After entering, the elder sat down cross-legged and glanced at Liam who had followed him in.
"Out gathering Spiritmoss again?"
Alone with the elder, Liam held a deep respect for the man who had raised him since childhood. Liam's grandfather was Howard Serenity, and Liam Serenit bore his grandfather's surname. Setting down his woven basket, he picked up a small clay bottle and handed it to Howard.
"With your skills in climbing mountains, I don't worry about you in the hills. But if you have the time, do practice your body forging technique more. Don't waste your youth," Howard said, accepting the herbs and looking at Liam with a kindly expression.
Liam nodded eagerly and placed the herb pouch in the corner. Over the years, his grandfather had nurtured him with herbs and taught him a cultivation technique called Body Forging. Diligent in his practice, Liam was stronger than most ordinary people.
"The Phantasmal Academy will be accepting new disciples these days. There's no specific time yet, but I've spoken to the Village Chief. See if you can make it," Howard said, gazing at Liam and speaking slowly.
"Don't burden yourself. If it doesn't work out, it's fine. Being here, healing and helping people in this village, isn't a bad life. With your insight, if you travel out in a few years, even to Valoria, you can still make something of yourself."
"Of course, if you don't want to be a physician, we can live happily as ordinary people."
Liam's eyes gleamed with excitement, nodding vigorously.
"Stay close these days. Wait for the village's message. It won't be long," Howard said, slowly closing his eyes.
Liam quickly agreed and skipped away to his room nearby.
Later, sighing softly, after a brief moment of excitement, Liam felt a tinge of bitterness. He yearned to become an Arcanist, not out of obsession or idolization but as a necessity. Ever since reading about Arcanists in books, Liam had been deeply captivated, even obsessed.
Growing up with his grandfather and without parents, Howard had been good to him. Liam couldn't help but envy others who had parents who loved them. He had asked his grandfather about his origins, but Howard always avoided the topic. Liam knew he would have to find the answers himself. However, the world was not entirely peaceful, and without sufficient strength, venturing out would only endanger himself.
The more he cared, the more he worried. He feared that if he didn't make it this time, he would have to carry this dream alone and be an ordinary person.
"This time... will it work?" Liam sat by the window in his room, lost in thought.
"If I don't get into the Phantasmal Academy, I won't be able to practice Arcane. I'll be stuck here for life, unable to go out, unable to see my origins or the world described in books."
"Even if it doesn't work out this time, I'll have to go to Qingrun Peak. Pantheocrypt is too far away. I might never make it there in my life. It would take me ten years to reach Qingrun Peak. By then, I'd be twenty-three. I just don't know if they'll still accept me..."
"These two choices are still a long way off. The main thing is this recruitment. It must succeed... it must..." In the late night, in Serenitown village, a young man stared at the sky, murmuring to himself.