Chen Changsheng stood in the corridor outside Jin’s room with a complicated look on his face.

He tried to project a dignified appearance, as was expected of an outer disciple, but the task was proving difficult. This particular area of the Pit was intended for the younger miners, and the height of the ceiling clearly reflected it.

In order to avoid bumping into the mass of solid rock hanging above him, he kept his head lowered at an awkward angle. It made him look as if he was a humble petitioner, waiting patiently outside his master’s chambers.

Which wasn’t that far off from the truth.

Bored and frustrated, Cheng played with the wispy moustache he was growing on his lip.

“It’s all your fault, isn’t?” he whispered accusingly.

The whiskers didn’t answer.

Before, the idea of cultivating a unique look seemed so charming. He knew that facial hair constituted a clear breach of conduct, it was something that would never fly back in the Sect, but he also knew that his brothers and sisters permitted themselves even greater liberties.

Now, he discovered a newfound appreciation for the age-old wisdom of not standing out.

When Hang Min made his abrupt appearance in the common area, an unconscious miner slung over his shoulder like a sack of rice, it took him only a glance to single Cheng out of a group of over dozen people.

Cheng even sensed the precise moment his senior brother noticed him. Their eyes briefly met, and then, Hang’s gaze shifted downwards, settling on an area about an inch below Cheng’s nose.

The matter was all the more frustrating, since Cheng was probably the only person present in the room who didn’t want anything to do with Hang Min.

Outsiders wouldn’t understand just how much of a stir the unexpected arrival of the master-disciple duo made in the hearts of disciples employed in the mine.

Only failures and rejects took up posts in the secular world. They might’ve retained the right to wear the white robes of outer disciples, but their connection with the sect was effectively severed. Their names were erased from the active roster, and they would never gaze upon the holy Nine Peaks again.

Some had coped with this reality better than others, but there wasn't a single one who didn’t nurse at least a sliver of shame and regret.

For Elder Xi to appear here — it was like having one of the peaks grow legs and come to them.

His presence alone could’ve fuelled discussions for years to come. His Excellency, however, didn’t restrict himself to something so mundane.

No, the venerable Elder decided to build himself a home.

Cheng grimaced just remembering the chaos of that day.

It all started with a small tremor. Minor earthquakes weren’t exactly a rare occurrence in this area, and with the securing formations in place, even a larger one wouldn’t threaten the foundations of the mine. Most people had disregarded it.

But then, instead of subsiding, the quakes began to grow stronger.

The earth started to shake as if it was witnessing the birth of a volcano. A roar of explosions followed. They bellowed from deep underground, with enough force to make your ears bleed. The weaker shafts started to cave in.

A complete chaos ensued. The slaves fell into a panic, scattering about like chickens with their heads cut off. At some point they even mixed in with a group of similarly terrified fiends that escaped from the stables.

And still, the mortals should’ve considered themselves lucky to be spared what the disciples experienced.

It wasn't even about the monstrous amount of qi that was being released in an endless torrent underneath their feet.

With their Immortal Sigils, they were forced to bear the weight of Elder Xi’s dao.

Yes, they were all failures of the Immortal Path. The daos they used to ignite their sigils were all weak and flawed, unable to pass scrutiny even in the outer sect. But even then, the sheer presence that emanated from underground that day made them feel like ghosts.

The elder was simply more. Just coming into contact with his being made their own existence turn dim and uncertain. Their Immortal Sigils swayed and flickered like candles in the wind. For hours, they lay on their knees, praying for this tribulation to end.

When it was all over, the terror they felt was replaced with an even greater dejection.

The mine had been around for centuries. It was impossible to calculate just how many people had lost their lives toiling in its dark shafts. The surface town alone - a settlement that existed solely to supply the miners with the tools and food they needed for their work - spanned a greater period of time than many mortal dynasties.

Sitting atop such a magnificent undertaking, it wasn’t surprising that some of the disciples developed a certain feeling of superiority.

Elder Xi’s display had disabused them of any such notions. It was a stark reminder that in the eyes of the truly powerful, there was little difference between themselves and the slaves who adored them as Immortals.

Cheng had once visited the sanctuary that Elder had built for himself and his student. Even putting aside the question of how he’d managed to get the plants to grow in the inhospitable environment of the mine, just the sheer size of the place had left him bewildered.

It took up the space of a small village. It made the centuries of effort that went into the exploitation of the mine seem laughable. If Elder Xi wanted to, he could probably dig out every single crystal present there on his own.

That day, the disciples finally understood what they had given up on when they had left the Sect. Elder Xi taught them the meaning of a true cultivator. But the lesson came too late. Their own journey on the Immortal Path had already come to an end.

They would be willing to do anything for even the smallest chance to step on that Path again.

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Cheng Changsheng was probably the sole exception. In his mind, he had already lucked out, achieving everything and more that a son of a cobbler could expect from life. The Sect took care of all his earthly needs. He would never need to worry about earning enough silver for food or lodgings.

All he needed to do in exchange was to look after the tamed fiends. The job took all hours of the day, but it was very rewarding. The poor creatures inspired disgust at the first glance, but they proved to be the most loyal and playful friends anyone could dream of. It was only a pity that they suffered so terribly from health issues. Most of Cheng’s wages went towards ordering special made medicines from outside, but they only alleviated the symptoms.

Yes, the environment in the mine wasn’t conducive to cultivation - but so what. The environment in the Sect wasn’t that healthy either, and Cheng was glad to be out. The terrifying, inhuman pressure projected by Elder Xi served only to strengthen his conviction.

So, of course, when their senior brother emerged from the sanctuary, out of all the people who would sell their souls for an opportunity to serve him, he decided to choose him.

Cheng pulled out a hair from his moustache and stared at it hatefully.

He wasn’t surprised that Hang Min needed an interpreter to speak with the miner. In the recent months, it was difficult to hear a conversation that didn’t center around their illustrious guests. At this point, Cheng could recite Hang’s distinguished pedigree all the way to his second maternal grand aunt twice removed.

The true elites didn't waste their offspring's time on studying such frivolous things like mortal tongue. And even if they did, the slaves all came from various, often far-flung provinces.This made the dialect spoken in the mine a confusing hodgepodge of different languages. Cheng only mastered it because his duties required him to regularly interact with mortals.

Naturally, Cheng offered to interrogate the miner himself, but his senior brother wasn’t interested. No, he wanted to question the slave personally. Moreover, he wished it to be done one on one.

Cheng was to stand outside - hidden behind a wall, since the room didn’t even have a door - and transmit mentally every word that came out of the miner’s mouth. Then, he was to wait for Hang’s reply, translate it, and send the translated message back to Hang, so that his senior brother could say it himself, giving an impression of holding a natural conversation.

It was a baffling arrangement, but apparently it was a fairly common practice in the upper crust of the society. Only, for the sake of convenience, the interpreter was usually excorporated and bound to a handy talisman that one could keep on his person at all times, Hang Min helpfully explained.

Cheng pulled on his whiskers again. Once this was all over, he’d be getting rid of the rotten thing.

***

Jin Sou blinked.

He found himself back in his room. The change was instantaneous. One moment he was lost in a world of black spots and fading consciousness, ready to surrender to the beckoning of the afterlife, and the next he was here, back in the mine, dazed and disoriented.

It was as if everything he had experienced was just an incredibly realistic dream or hallucination.

He clenched and unclenched his fists, marvelling at their ability to move. His qi was perfectly stable; inert and calm, patiently waiting for his commands.

Still, there was something different about it. Jin closed his eyes to investigate, when a peal of excited laughter shook him out of his daze.

“I can’t believe it! You read the Journey of the Rose? My niece loves it! I’ll have to tell her she has a book buddy!”

Jin turned to look and stared in mute shock.

A youth clothed in a luxurious blue robe was lying sprawled on his cot. The stranger, reclining on his side, faced Jin Sou while poring over one of his books with deep interest. An unruly mop of blonde curls kept slipping over the teen’s eyes, and he swatted them away with an air of annoyance.

“You know,” Hang Min remarked excitedly. He really was in an excellent mood. Although he was unfamiliar with the spoken language of the mortals, he did learn the written script, since it remained constant and universal across the provinces, unlike their ever-shifting dialects.

“Personally, I never read art. There’s something perverse about it. To allow oneself to be touched, and to share that feeling with countless other people around the world. A communion of souls. But they’re strangers! It’s like going to a banquet, but the guests pass their chewed food from mouth. I tried to explain this to my niece, but she wouldn’t listen, no she…”

The youth's words poured forth in an unceasing torrent. There was something off about his intonation, a strange rhythm that emphasized and de-emphasized certain words seemingly at random, but it only added to the unreal feeling.

It took Jin a full minute, before he realised what going on.

The boy was an Immortal.

Jin dropped to his knees even before his mind completed the thought. It didn’t matter if this was the afterlife, a dream, or a hallucination. The hierarchy of the world was absolute and universal.

“I greet the Immortal!”

“What?” Hang Min looked up from the book to stare at Jin. “Oh, don’t bother yourself with that. We can’t really talk with you lying on the ground like that, can we?” he laughed. “Come on, stand up, stand, STAND! —that’s better.”

He jumped up from the cot and walked up to Jin with a curious grin on his face.

To his horror, Jin discovered that their eyes were at a level. No, he was even slightly taller than the Immortal.

His legs trembled.

Hang Min seemed oblivious to Jin’s distress. He studied him curiously, as if comparing his appearance with some idea he had in his mind. A bright smile bloomed on his face.

“I am Hang Min. My Teacher is the venerable elder Xi, my father is the Scarlet Inferno Master Hang Roxie, and my mother is the Lunar Serenity Mistress Ao. What’s your name?”

The blue robed Immortal radiated nothing but concentrated friendliness. Bizarrely, Jin felt himself transported to his childhood. It was as if he was ten again, and making friends with children of a travelling merchant.

“Venerable Immortal,” Jin answered, his eyes set on the ground. “This lowly one is Jin Sou.”

Hang Min frowned. “No, no, no, what’s with that. I’m hardly venerable and as for immortal - let’s save that title for the brothers and sisters willing to bear its weight. Look up when I’m talking to you. No, that won’t do,” he fell into thought.

“Look,” he waved his hands around. “We seem to be roughly the same age. And the rules of seniority need to be respected. Even the Sages agree on that point, and you don't want to mess with them. How about we address each other as brothers? What do you think, brother Jin?”

Before Jin could answer, the Immortal continued. “You see, brother Jin, my esteemed teacher has tasked me with a mission of the utmost importance. It is related to the treasure that you unearthed earlier today. You need to tell me everything you saw. Every detail counts.”

Jin felt a surge of cold terror wash over him as the words sank in.

“Just remember,” the Immortal emphasised, his eyes fixed on Jin’s face. “When you speak, don’t withhold a single truth and don’t tell a slightest falsehood.”

When the Immortal finally revealed the purpose of his visit, Jin was gripped by panic. He braced himself for the onslaught of qi. An attack that would hurl him to the ground, grind him until he could only scream, and worse.

Nothing happened.

Jin opened the eyes that he had unconsciously closed. The youth in the blue robe stood before him, his amiable smile still in place. His head was cocked slightly, as if he was puzzled by Jin's hesitation and couldn't fathom what was taking him so long.

A wild idea flashed through Jin’s head.

Maybe he could tell him the truth.

With his qi unstable, he didn’t have the time to think over the problem before. But he knew there was a possibility of other Immortals coming to question him about what he had seen. Maybe this Immortal, this brother Hang, would be able to protect him.

But he immediately discarded the idea. Even if the boy had the power to keep him safe, it was a slim hope. The female Immortal was older, and no amount of false friendliness could ease Jin's fears. If anything, this act made him feel even more weak and inferior.

He decided to conceal the matter.

He recounted the events precisely as they had occurred, taking care to alter two treasures for one. It was a small change, making the lie easy to conceal. He also kept his thoughts about the female Immortal to himself. Speaking ill of a revered one - even to another Immortal - was just too difficult.

The blue robed boy listened inattentively. At some point he even returned to the cot and began leafing through the books again. He nodded his head from time to time.

When Jin was finished, the boy got up from the cot with the same small smile on his face. “Well, that’s it, thank you for telling me.”

“It is an honour, Immortal.”

“You don't have to be so formal. We're brothers, remember?” Hang shook his head and walked towards the door.

"Oh, wait. There's one more thing," he said, stopping in the doorway and turning back to Jin.

“Tell me what you saw when you unearthed the treasure,” he said with a smile. His blue eyes shone. “Just don’t withhold a single truth and don’t tell a slightest falsehood.”