CHAPTER 1: TO CULTIVATE

Dan Valyon was born a cultivator. He popped out the womb with natal spiritual roots, to the sole immortal of a wealthy mortal clan. By first impression, his prospects were limitless. Once he was old enough to cultivate, his family’s status would experience a shocking rise.

To the Valyon family, Dan was the hope of a stable future. To others, he was a small secret. Cultivation-capable children born to mortal families were usually brought up in secrecy.

As a child, he naturally enjoyed the doting and attention of his family members. But he loved none moreso than his father, who would have carried Dan on his shoulders and showed him off to every layman in Bluecorn if circumstances permitted.

In such an environment, little Dan cultivated a pleasant and easy-going personality. His smile, ever-present, would brighten his father’s lowest moods and a few simple words would cut his father’s worst concerns. It seemed, at least superficially, that he thought longer and harder than those of others.

The first stroke of misfortune struck when Dan first attempted cultivation at the age of eight. The energies of Heaven and Earth never entered his flesh, and especially didn’t enhance his pathways or nurture his core. However, this was normal; children often couldn’t focus well enough to achieve the necessary meditative state until ten or eleven years of age.

But from then on, a subtle weight oppressively settled over the boy’s shoulders. He tried not to let it affect him; he really did. If little Dan was pessimistic sometimes, it was normal. His father never pulled him up about the occasional mood swing, and Dan continued his attempts to cultivate every other day.

But Dan was certain that he was perfectly capable of meditating. In fact, he was so utterly certain that he eventually confronted his father in his study.

“Dad. Why can’t I cultivate?”

His father, credit to him, gave Dan his full attention. He closed his journal and pulled the small pair of reading glasses from his nose. Like that, Dan was pulled into his father’s lap and a warm hand was gently settled on his shoulder.

“Dannie, why do you think you can’t cultivate?”

It was a difficult question. But Dan’s father, the first of his bloodline to awaken to immortality, who ventured the world in his youth and cultivated strength with nothing but his own means, always preached independent thought.

It need not be said that Dan idolized his father.

“What does cultivation require, Dannie?”

He had taken too long to answer. Prompted, he easily understood where his father wanted to lead him.

Dan coughed into his fist and adopted his best rendition of a thinking posture, cupping his chin with an open hand and tapping his father’s wooded desk with the other.

“To cultivate, you need four things!” Dan said. “You need spirit roots, you need spirit energy, you need a cultivation technique, and you need focus. I can definitely focus. I have spirit roots. There is spirit energy everywhere. I also have a cultivation technique… but…”

“But?” His father prompted, and Dan’s eyes widened.

“Is it a fake cultivation technique?”

His father shook his head. “We cultivate the same technique, Dannie. Steer away from truth and falsity. Think about spirit energy and spirit roots.”

Nine-year-old Dan bought himself a headache in following his father’s words. But eventually, he understood. It wasn’t too complicated, but he did feel a small surge of anger.

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“Y-you mean I’ve been using the technique for the wrong element the whole time?! Why didn’t you tell me…”

Dan felt horribly wronged that day. His father didn’t apologize, but he did get custard for dessert, and that was a true rarity.

The next day, his father dragged him into the home’s cultivation chamber. It had once been built for his father, but once he hit the ceiling of the Refining state, secluded meditation became relatively inconsequential.

The room was plain, but rather unique compared to the rest of their home. It had one door, and it was thick and heavy, as if there were a layer of stone within a facetious wooden cover. Light did not enter the room, but thin lines of mystical script littering the walls illuminated the space.

Aside from the glowing text and the otherwise bare stone that made up the walls, ceiling and floor of the chamber, there was only a simple timber square in the middle of the floor. Upon it lay a thin cotton pillow; blue, and beside it a dark wooden vase covered in thick runic etchings. Long thin sticks filled every inch of the vase, as if it were a thickly grown microcosm of a bamboo forest.

“Are we…?”

Dan was naturally expectant, and the paper scrolls bundled together within the crook of his father’s arm made it beyond obvious.

The small shreds of frustration that had welled up the previous day, after discovering a year of his efforts were in vain, had already given way. Instead, anxiety took their place. His hands shook, and he blinked rapidly.

“Don’t worry, Dannie.” His father’s grip on his shoulder always had a smoothing effect on his conscience. But today, it barely did anything.

A wide, thinly rolled scroll was waved before Dan’s eyes. “Enter your most concentrated meditative state. I will observe. When I judge you ready, we can work from there.”

It was supposed to be a simple thing. Dan had, after all, meditated every second day for over a year now. Instead of delving easily into the nothing, of letting go of his fetters and his surroundings, Dan found himself wondering. What did it mean if he failed today? What would his father think? Was there any other road left to cross? What if he really couldn’t become an immortal?

The runes on the vase flickered a myriad of colours, and the tip of a single wooden stick lit aflame. A variety of smells mesmerized Dan’s mind for but a moment. The power of the scent shocked away his distracting thoughts, and he doubled down on his resolve. His intention to meditate peacefully shortly came into fruition.

A hard pressure stuck to Dan’s back. He barely held onto its meditative state, but he remained calm and resolved his focus.

“You are the gift of the great sun, the source of the stars. You carry the pride of summer and the antithesis of winter. May fire guide your way and its might be the epitome of your ability.”

His father’s words guided Dan’s conscience and subconsciously altered the energy in his surroundings. A flow of energy infiltrated his flesh and swam about his channels, not his – for he didn’t have any – but nor of nature. It was, Dan could easily identify, his father’s guidance.

Dan began cultivating. But instead of actioning the water cultivation technique he’d sought to use after his own father, he altered his breathing to match the subtle pressing of his father’s hand, and imagined circulating the world’s energies in accordance to the movement of his father’s. Like this, he cultivated a fire-attributed cultivation technique.

It was all an instinctual understanding of his father’s teachings. No words were spoken nor were gestures exchanged. Instead, after his father withdrew his energies and his palm, Dan continued cultivating the new technique for a short while. Long enough that two of the incense sticks by his side burnt out and a third was activated, signified by the quiet hiss of ignition.

After the third stick burnt out, his father spoke.

“It didn’t work, but don’t worry. It wasn’t supposed to.”

Dan guffawed and spluttered. Naturally, he was immediately broken from his meditation.

“Wh-why are you like this?”

His father smiled but didn’t answer. It was another one of those ‘figure it out yourself’ things the old man loved to dribble about, but Dan felt only confusion and indignation.

“Get ready Dannie.”

Peeved but obedient, Dannie grumbled small complaints beneath his breath and withdrew into his meditative state. Cleansing his mental state the second time was significantly easier. After all, he’d been clear of mind already a few seconds ago.

It was a struggle, but he didn’t tense when his father’s hand returned to the small of his back.

“Be ready. This may be sudden the first time.”

Dan flinched, but it was only a momentary distraction. Mind, calm as a stone. Mind, enduring. Mind… Mind…

Nothing.

“You are the gift of the world, the source of all life. You carry the pride of spring and the antithesis of autumn. May nature guide your way and its might be the epitome of your ability.”

His father’s energies guided his technique, and the subtle com- and depression of his father’s hand guided his breathing.

When his father was satisfied and Dan was left to his own devices, a different kind of energy circulated in his pathways.

It was refreshing, like the juice of a freshly bitten apple, vibrant green, plucked straight from its tree. The cool energies spread through Dan’s entire body in just moments, and like that, he lost his concentration.

“D-dad! I did it! I’m going to be a nature immortal!”

His father’s knowing smile did nothing to stifle his enthusiasm.