Miners often felt a sense of dejection upon returning from the Upper Pit. Gone was the lively atmosphere of its bustling tunnels, the clanging tools, and merchants hawking their wares. Their long treks back passed in silence. The temperature steadily dropped as they descended towards their living quarters, breathing air that was increasingly heavy with moisture.

Jin, however, didn’t even notice. He walked with a steady stride, his gaze fixed straight ahead, and his fingers tightly clenched around a small black stone in his palm.

In spite of his hopes, the merchant remained frustratingly tight-lipped about his goals. This was something that even passing his test didn’t change. The man brushed off all of Jin’s questions with practiced ease, offering only a vague promise to reveal more once Jin could be of use to him.

Jin squeezed his hand again. Hidden inside his palm was the only thing he had received from the merchant, and he couldn't shake the feeling that it was another test. The merchant told him not to come back, until he had solved it.

In a way, it was an extremely lopsided deal. Jin still had no idea what he was signing up for, and what, if anything, would be the reward for his services.

And yet, he still felt rather lucky to have made it out of the store alive. He couldn't help but wonder what sort of means the merchant possessed to exude such confidence.

Jin was fairly sure the man wasn’t an Immortal - the Sect was too good at sniffing those out - but just the variety of magical items he possessed made it clear that he was heavily involved in the Immortal world.

Like the little black stone. He felt it out with his fingers. It was warm and sleek with sweat. Curiosity stirred within him, but Jin didn’t dare to inspect it until he had made it back to his room.

The way the merchant explained it, it was a genuine magic tool - albeit one that was usually intended for young children.

"Shoring up your dao takes time, even for the brats in the immortal clans. Can't rush it, or you'll have to start all over again. But you won’t find a creature more fixated on time than an immortal, so they give their brats these trinkets to occupy their days.”

Trinket was putting it lightly. If Jin understood it correctly, the little stone could bind itself to him, allowing him to practice qi manipulation! Only awakened cultivators were able to manifest their qi outside their bodies, it was the hallmark of having truly stepped on the Path. To be able to touch that realm early was thrilling.

Despite his excitement, Jin's instincts were still sharp. Recent events had left him in a constant state of vigilance, something he suspected wouldn’t change for the rest of his days.

A sudden sense of danger jolted him to a halt, and he surveyed his surroundings with a watchful eye. The path he was on was empty, save for the small figures of the miners in the distance, looking like ants at the bottom of the Pit's well.

Jin's eyes wandered until they froze at the gate he had just passed through.

The Sect’s sigil hung above it.

And Jin didn’t bow his head when he walked past it.

It wasn’t a conscious decision. The habit that had been ingrained in him, simply failed to trigger.

Surprised, he walked up to the Sigil and studied it carefully, as if it was the first time he was seeing it.

The sigil was made up of three separate signs, each one in turn composed of thirty two strokes and seventeen dashes. It was written in the Immortal script and beyond the obvious - that it represented the Nine Peaks Harmony Sect - Jin never learnt its meaning.

He traced each line with his eyes, as a familiar sensation stirred within him. Some of the strokes repeated within each sign, and Jin thought he could recognize them.

Walk.

Not “walk” in the pedestrian sense. It signified walking the Path, the bravery required to take that first step, and the resoluteness to face the struggle that lay ahead.

It wasn’t just intuition. Jin knew it with absolute certainty, a knowledge that went beyond words or reason. He couldn't explain it if he tried, but he felt it in every fiber of his being.That the strokes were repeated in each of the signs making up the sigil only solidified their importance.

He searched the lines of the sigil again, hoping that maybe strike or pressure would also reveal themselves, but he was disappointed. As far as he could see, they were not part of the Sect’s dao.

Once more, he stared at the three strokes and one dot that made up the meaning of walk.

“Everyone who walks the Path knows of its struggle…” He suspected that grasping the significance of these small strokes made him just as much part of the Immortal world as his ability to circulate qi.

If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it's taken without permission from the author. Report it.

After some thought, he stood up straight, and lowered himself in a deep bow before the sign. It was not the Sect that he was honoring in that moment, but the grave meaning that lay hidden within its mysterious sigil.

With a sense of caution, he resumed his journey, mindful not to repeat his earlier misstep. The odds were low, but he knew better than to risk getting into trouble over flouting the rules.

He lowered his head each time he passed one of the Sect’s sigils, but it was a calculated act. The gesture no longer filled his heart with reverence.

By the time he was nearing his room, the sun was already past its meridian. Judging by its position, he had only two hours until his next shift in the lower shafts would begin.

“Brother Jin!” a happy voice welcomed him when he stepped into his room through the newly reinstalled door. “You were gone for so long, we got worried that something might have happened again.”

Jin looked at Hao Ling who stood up from his cot. Even after two weeks had passed, the boy was still spared from labor, a treatment so lenient, Jin couldn’t even begin to understand Big Lu’s thoughts. The wound left behind by the amputation was slow to heal, true, but it still didn’t explain the special treatment.

“I’m sure you were,” Jin answered, casting a pointed look towards the snot-nosed boy who sat in the corner, meditating with his eyes closed.

Bizu Chien - that was the boy’s name, Jin had finally learned - appeared completely deaf to the conversation around him.

He was performing a popular exercise among the younger miners. It involved passing a small pebble between your fingers in a smooth motion - all while circulating your qi at the same time.

It was an absorbing activity, one that even some of the older miners continued to partake in long after they had mastered the skill it was supposed to reinforce. The pebbles seemed to dance across their fingers as if by magic.

However, judging by the awkwardness of the boy’s movements, Jin suspected that he had already woken up from his trance.

“Oh, don’t mind him.” Hao shrugged his arms. “He’s just depressed because he got moved from kitchen duty and can’t swipe the scraps any longer.

“I wasn’t moved! They kicked me out!” Bizu cried out abruptly, unable to fake his meditative trance any longer. He turned to Hao, sniffed, and pointed to Jin. “No one will even talk to us, because they know we’re with him! And if Boss Lu changes his mind again, there really won’t be a place left for us!”

Jin didn’t bother arguing. For one, this conversation had repeated itself many times before. Secondly, although he was unwilling to admit it, the snot-nosed boy was mostly correct.

Two separate events occurred on that day two weeks ago. Hao Ling, who had stood up for Jin, was brutally beaten and left partially crippled. Meanwhile, the warden who allowed the incident to happen, hoping to gain favor with Big Lu, lost his life.

Miners, whose experiences made them particularly attuned to the smell of danger, were able to see through this contradictory story and discern its one crucial lesson.

Stay away.

Since that day, no one bothered Jin ever again. Neither did anyone speak to him or in any way acknowledge his presence. The vacuum around him was so complete, that Jin sometimes wondered if anyone would react if he simply stopped showing up for work.

Not that he would ever try it. The fragile peace was only maintained by Big Lu's authority, and Jin didn't want to give the chief warden any reason to come after him again.

Besides, he didn’t really mind it. He had already drifted away from the other miners when he began his studies. During his first year in the mine, he spent most of his free time in secluded tunnels, away from prying eyes, poring over the manuscripts he had bought from the merchant.

Even later, when he gained enough confidence to reveal his books, this type of interest didn’t inspire much friendliness among the miners.

Unfortunately, even if he personally didn’t mind it, the treatment afforded to him also extended to Hao Ling and Bizu Chien.

Hao, on account of his apparent relation with Jin, was fortunate enough to also enjoy his protective umbrella, but the fist-nosed brat didn’t have such luck.

“The silver we had received on our first day, I gave it all to the senior in charge of assignments just to get that post…” Bizu continued in a whiny voice.

Hao cast a glance at Jin, but he only shrugged in response. Although he didn’t exactly blame him, he still didn’t care much for the brat who had participated in the “discipline”. He understood the fear that drove him - and Hao’s fate served as an example of what happened to those who stick out - but it did little to inspire Jin’s empathy in his plight.

“So…” Hao started, trying to shift the topic. “What took you so long? You should’ve been back a few hours ago. We, uhm, I started to wonder if something happened again.”

Jin’s thoughts returned to the little black stone hidden in his hand.

If he was being honest with himself, he would’ve liked nothing better than to kick the two boys out of his room. He had already pushed his patience to the limit by refraining from examining the stone on his way back, and having to conceal it even now was driving him crazy.

But he couldn’t do it.

Living in the confined space of the mine conditioned the miners to tolerate close proximity to one another. Seeking solitude was suspect. He could ask the two boys to leave, but he didn’t have a way of doing so without coming across as standoffish.

Instead, he decided to tell them the truth. At least a part of it.

“I think I have managed to intuit the meaning of another word from the cultivation mantra.”

This succeeded in getting everyone's attention. Even Bizu’s eyes lit up and caused him to stare at Jin with amazement.

This wasn’t something surprising. The young miners were hungry for any scraps of knowledge involving the secrets of cultivation. At the camps, the instructors were careful to restrict what they taught to the bare minimum required to grasp the basics. And any insight from the seniors in the mine came sporadically, more often in the form of gruesome tales of doom, than any real guidance.

Jin nodded. “But I still need to meditate on it. And you cannot interrupt me. Wake me up only when my shift is about to start.”

He retreated to the corner of his room, throwing a blanket from his cot over his body. Hao and Bizu seemed surprised, but he didn’t mind it.

Hidden under the blanket, he took out a piece of rock with a sharp edge and sliced it across his palm. He gripped the black stone with his bloodied hand, feeling the heat from his body spreading into it. Then, with a deep inhale, he began to move his qi, pushing it towards the major meridian in his hand.

Behind his closed eyes, a mysterious image began to take shape.