The western city of the Wuhuan Kingdom was one of its four great capitals, bustling with life and prosperity. The city, like other cities of the kingdom,  was divided into three concentric rings. The outer ring housed the common folk, the middle ring sheltered the wealthy merchants and officials, while the innermost core was reserved for the noble clans.

In a modest town on the outskirts of the outer ring, there stood an unremarkable house. Yet today, it was drawing curious glances from passersby, their faces betraying wry smiles.

"Mother! I’ve told you a thousand times—immortals exist! There's no other explanation for the things I've read!" A young boy’s indignant voice echoed from inside.

His mother, exasperated, shouted back. "Qi’er, how many times must I say this? There are no immortals! Stop chasing your father’s foolish dreams. Your path is to uphold the family legacy—study hard, pass the imperial exams, and settle down when you're of age!"

Ye Fuqi snorted in frustration, storming out of the house while muttering under his breath. "Imperial exams… as if they’re anything more than a waste of time."

Fuqi hailed from the Ye family, once a prominent lineage of officials in Wuhuan. But when his grandfather died suddenly thirty years ago, the family’s fortune crumbled. Things became worse with his father’s disappearance shortly after Fuqi was born. He had left to seek immortals, leaving his wife and child with their small fortune.

Fuqi headed straight to the library of Scholar Jian, who apparently was once a military official.  Scholar Jian had amassed a considerable fortune during his service. After retiring, he became enchanted by literature and philosophy, opening his extensive library to young people in the outer ring who aspired to become scholars.

"Young Fuqi, Did you have a quarrel with your mother again?" an old voice greeted him as he entered it, followed by the visage of a bearded old man.

"Old Jian!" Ye Fuqi exclaimed.

"Old Jian," Fuqi replied, his frustration softening in the presence of his mentor. "I argued with my mother again. She refuses to believe that the giant stone from the war fifty years ago had anything to do with immortals! I know it wasn’t just some siege weapon."

"Ah, don't be too harsh on her," Scholar Jian said with a gentle smile. "It’s not easy for people to accept such extraordinary things. You know, I didn’t believe in immortals either—until I saw evidence with my own eyes thirty years ago."

Fuqi raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Are you exaggerating again, old man?"

The scholar just chuckled, the lines of his face wrinkling with amusement. 

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Ye Fuqi had always been a solitary child. Fragile in health and driven by a thirst for knowledge, he spent most of his days buried in books. His unusual obsession with immortals made him an outsider among his peers, but it also led to his friendship with Scholar Jian, with his vast library. 

Over the years, Fuqi pored over texts about history, geography, and politics—not just to prepare for the imperial exams, but to secretly search for any mention of immortals.

Years passed, and Ye Fuqi turned fifteen. One evening, as he prepared to leave the library, Scholar Jian called out to him.

"Wait a moment, little Fuqi!" The old man hurried over, his expression unusually serious.

"What is it, old Jian?" Fuqi asked, eyeing him suspiciously.

"Do you know of the Dragon Tiger Pill?" Jian’s voice was grave.

Fuqi frowned. "The pill that’s said to restore vitality to the elderly so they can… have children?" His tone was doubtful. "What does that have to do with anything?"

Jian chuckled softly, though there was a weight in his eyes. "Do you know my real age?"

Fuqi blinked. "You’re what, sixty? Seventy?"

Jian shook his head. "Ninety. And I’m only alive because of those pills."

Fuqi’s eyes widened in disbelief. "You’ve been taking those? No wonder you’re still so lively!" Then, his face fell. "Wait… does that mean…"

The old scholar nodded solemnly. "I don’t have much time left."

Fuqi’s heart sank. "Old Jian… don’t say that." His voice was barely above a whisper, tears threatening to spill. "You’re my only friend. What will I do if you’re gone?"

Jian placed a comforting hand on the boy’s shoulder. "I’ve lived a full life, lad. But there’s something you should know." His voice dropped to a near whisper. "When I was young, I stumbled upon a duel between two immortals near a cave. They both perished, but I found their storage bags—filled with treasures and knowledge. Most of my wealth came from those bags. I couldn’t practice their techniques, but perhaps you can."

He handed Fuqi a small, worn bag. Inside were ancient scrolls, jade slips, and animal skins, each one inscribed with mysterious symbols.

"Old Jian…" Fuqi’s voice trembled as he looked at the man who had been his mentor, his only friend. "Are you saying…"

"Go now," Jian interrupted, his tone firm yet kind. "This will be our last meeting. There’s an immortal settlement beyond the Wushan Mountains, to the west. Do what you want."

Before Fuqi could respond, the old man turned and hurried off, moving with a determination that belied his age. For a moment, Fuqi wondered if his friend was truly mortal after all.

As Fuqi slowly made his way home, his mind swirled with emotions—grief for the impending loss of Jian, and awe at the secret his friend had shared. He peeked inside the bag again, scanning the strange names of the techniques: Body of Vajra, Secret of Red Qi, Mind of Ocean. Though he didn’t fully understand their significance, one thing was clear.

"With these…" he whispered to himself, "I can finally seek immortality."

But as he walked through the twilight streets, his heart was heavy. The path ahead was uncertain, and though his soul longed for immortality, he couldn’t shake the feeling that it came with a price.