Dark clouds hung over the western gate of Butont as Fan Zhong and his party stood alongside Fan Shun to prepare for their journey. Around them was a street far more richly decorated and colorful than where his own had been. This was the main road leading in and out of Butont which continued into the heart of the village before passing through the other main gate at the eastern edge of the town.

This gate served to make the end of the wall that contained the interior part of the village as there existed many roads outside the walls proper with many smaller gates leading out from different directions. Fan Zhong’s home had been in one such place and it had been some time since he had stayed in the more protected walls of the interior of Butont. Honestly, with the layout, he considered it more of a small city or town than anything however, due to the overlord factions controlling the only proper ‘cities’ everyone still referred to it as a village.

Looking around, the early morning was covered in a light blanket of darkness, only lit by the sparse light that peaked through the clouds overhead. It seemed that it would rain soon and Fan Zhong made sure to secure his azure cloak just in case. For three years he had simply used a plain gray cloak bought for three spirit stones at a local tailor; however, Fan Shun had been insistent that he should be given a set of clan robes and cloak just like when he had been accepted as a warrior.

Now he and Fan Yong stood slightly behind and to the side of Xing Zheng as the older man idly talked to Fan Shun, assuring him that he would keep the young men safe. With them standing so close in a wedge-like formation it brought back memories to Fan Zhong’s mind. Images of a big man who moved more silently than he had any right to dying in front of him, a locket dangling from a headless neck, and of a small girl breathing her last breath while clinging to robes…

A small movement caught his attention, breaking Fan Zhong’s reminiscence. His mind worked fast and was just able to notice the moving hand of Fan Yong rapidly approaching his shoulder, fast but not too fast to track. With a casual flick of his hand, he met the motion, moving the outstretched hand with the back of his own hand before looking up at him.

“Is something wrong? Was there a fly on my shoulder?” Fan Zhong asked him, his face taking on a slight expression of confusion.

It was then that he saw the concern in Fan Yong’s eyes as the man stared back at him, concern and understanding.

“Brother Zhong, it seems that it began raining early. Make sure to let me know if your cloak has any tears.” Fan Yong spoke softly, nodding before turning to face the older men once more.

Moving his hand to his cheek Fan Zhong realized that there was a streak of wetness that ran down his face, having seemingly appeared from nowhere. Looking around he saw that no rain had fallen and a quick focusing mental energy to his eyes was enough to be doubly sure of the fact. Having confirmed this his cheeks took on the slightest sheen of red in embarrassment before he too nodded and turned back to face the older warriors, trying to focus on what they were saying.

“I see, Senior Zhang Zheng, your understanding of sword drawing techniques is profound, do you practice similar styles?” Fan Shun remarked, genuine respect and admiration showing in his eyes.

“No, no nothing like that. It’s just that when you travel enough like me and meet enough fellow swordsmen inevitably you’ll become very familiar with most styles. Oh, I suppose you could say that I’m particularly familiar with one form of sword drawing technique. My clan’s ancestral style is based on them; however, the heavens deemed that this old man would have no fate with that particular form of swordsmanship. Your technique is good and I approve of the decision to mix Mind Qi in as the primary element of your style to compensate for the conflicting natures of earth and fire. In any case, I was wondering, Elder Fan Shun, is your movement technique the same as Junior Zhong’s?” Xing Zheng’s tone was one of a sagely old man, nodding ever so often as his fingers idly stroked his chin as if brushing past a non-existent beard.

“Not just us, every single trained Fan clan warrior uses this movement technique. I apologize if senior finds this rude, however, this is one of our clan's ancestral techniques. We don’t often discuss it with those outside of the clan.” Fan Shun’s brow furrowed slightly as conflicting emotions spread across his face.

“Of course, have no fear. This old man has enough self-respect to not eye the secrets of others.” Xing Zheng said, waving his hand to dismiss Fan Shun’s worries “However, it seems that the tradition of Fan clan warrior’s all using this technique in the future will sadly come to an end, am I right, Elder Fan Shun?”

Xing Zheng’s tone became soft as he spoke the last part, an understanding and sad expression overtaking his gaze. Fan Shun seemed to visibly shake at these words, taking enough time to recover that even Fan Zhong and Fan Yong noticed. Amid the ever stoic and calm expression, the older warrior normally wore this was like a hammer strike cracking a mountain in two.

“I… It seems that way,” Fan Shun replied, taking a slow calming breath before continuing “Senior Zhang Zheng’s skills are truly profound; however, I would ask that this be kept between us if possible. Is there something you would like in exchange? As you know I cannot give you the technique however, anything else within my power is worth that price.”

Tension rose in the air and it seemed to thicken as resolve settled into Fan Shun’s eyes.

“Anything within your power? So if I ask you to behead yourself right now, then so it will be? Such a feat is certainly within your abilities.” Xing Zheng’s tone took on a slightly harsh and reproachful note as all of them visibly paled at his words. “Relax, you’ve placed your trust well in this old man so such a thing would never happen. However, this can’t be said for others. Take this lesson to heart Elder Fan Shun and with it the knowledge that your secrets are safe with me. Now, unless there's anything else we should really be off.”

“Of course, apologies for doubting you, Senior Zhang Zheng. Juniors, behave yourself and learn well from the lessons that are imparted to you. If you can, please send word every now and then just to keep this old warrior’s mind at ease.” With that Fan Shun bowed to Xing Zheng before leveling a smile at the two young men in front of him.

With this, the two of them said their goodbyes, and the group was off as a conspicuously missing wolf slowly became visible in the drab light and began walking beside Fan Zhong. Fan Shun stood for a long while, simply watching them go while the empty early morning streets of Butont stayed silent all around him. After the group had crested the horizon and were out of sight he spoke.

“Are you going to come out now? I see that you didn’t even wish them farewell.” The older warrior's eyes tracked to a shadowy alley that lay between a couple of two-story buildings.

Soon a young man walked out of the darkness, arrogance, anger, and grief plain in his expression. He snarled as he walked up to Fan Shun, spitting on the ground in the direction the group had departed in.

“As always, he’s a useless coward who runs away from duty. Didn’t even speak to me all of last night either.” Zi Bao spoke with acidic vitriol in his voice, fury boiling in his eyes as emotions built.

As this happened a calming hand landed on his shoulder and he looked up to find Fan Shun shaking his head with a soft smile.

“It’s simply a wound so deep that he knows how to do nothing else but flee from it. Such injuries of the soul affect everyone differently, with only time allowing all of them to heal. Tell me, in your heart, do you truly hate him? Hate the brother who spilled blood by your side? Who stood with stalwart courage in the face of overwhelming odds?” The older warrior's words were patient and calm as he spoke.

For just a moment Zi Bao’s face softened the slightest bit and overwhelming sadness threatened to overtake him. In a rush, he let a cry to the heavens, a cry that contained his frustration and rage all boiling into a single eruption. Fury marred his face and with a grunt, Zi Bao shrugged off Fan Shun’s hand before turning to run back towards the Fan clan compound.

Looking at his back the older warrior could only sigh and smile wryly before turning to follow him. After all, someone still had to run the clan.

As Fan Zhong’s group made their way out of the village the clouds overhead seemed to writhe and squirm. At moments it would seem as if the light of the sun would peek through and at other times the thick cloud cover would threaten to plunge the earth into an early night. While he was examining the sky and desperately hoping that the rain decided to wait for another day, his thoughts were interrupted as a thin hazy film seemed to surround the group in a bubble.

“Alright, I think this is far enough, Junior Yong. There is something that you should know.” Xing Zheng said, turning to face the boys while continuing to walk with his back facing the road.

All around them, the ever-present sound of shifting grass and swaying bamboo shoots was cut off. The road that they were on was the main road out of Butont and well traveled for quite some distance. Alongside the road stretched the normal ever-present bamboo forests and rolling hills that were commonplace in the valley.

It was a far cry from the almost untouched nature that Fan Zhong had experienced during his training and at home but the subtle noises that made up the backdrop of the valley even heard had become somewhat of a passive calming melody for him. With that stripped away the world around them looked ominous with the blanket of shadow cast all around by the looming clouds.

Fan Yong seemed to freeze, frantically looking at Fan Zhong for some support as he had no idea what was going on. Alas, he also had no idea what the eccentric immortal was up to, nor had the man shared any plans for things to discuss. Looking at his best friend he simply smiled, relishing, if just the slightest bit, the anxiety in the other youths' expression.

“You see I am not Zhang Zheng ‘the worldly sword sage’. My real name is Xing Zheng, a spirit cultivator from one of the immortal sects within this lesser region.” Xing Zheng said this as if it was the most casual thing in the world, slapping his bag for it to spit out an apple that he peeled with his finger while waiting for a response!

Fan Yong’s face twisted into several expressions as he processed the information, at first terrified, then confused, and finally bewildered at the sight of a man using his finger like a knife to peel an apple!

“I see… Does this mean that senior is not interested in seeing the sights of the valley then? If it's any consolation, a fortune teller once told me that my spirit roots are very poor, meaning you won’t get much power from absorbing me!” Fan Yong replied emphatically, huffing out air at the end to emphasize that he was no good as materials.

Xing Zheng stopped walking and stared at him with an expression of dumbfoundedness. It was as if he walked straight into a wall at full speed!

“Junior Yong… What gives you the impression that I care about your ‘spirit roots’? Also, why do you think I’ll ‘absorb’ you?” Xing Zheng spoke slowly while shaking his head as if he couldn’t believe the words coming from his own mouth.

“Well, you will, right? In the legends, immortals who hide from mortals do it to gather them into refining cauldrons, gathering millions to steal their spirit roots and gain power!” Fan Yong’s expression was genuine and as he spoke it seemed that he truly believed this was true of immortals.

“That's… Where to begin? Junior Zhong, what kind of stories is your clan telling of immortals anyways?” Xing Zheng turned his gaze to Fan Zhong, expression turning to one of exasperation combined with inquisitiveness.

“Wh… What stories? Of course, everyone hears different stories! How should I know which ones he partook of?” Fan Zhong’s face reddened slightly in embarrassment and he turned his head slightly to not meet the older man’s gaze.

In truth, he knew what story Fan Yong was speaking of as it was his best friend's favorite! It involved a duplicitous immortal who disguised himself as a mortal to gather aspiring martial artists together in the guise of welcoming them to a rich-looking sect. This was a series of legends that detailed how three righteous immortals, who practiced painting, music, and calligraphy as their arts, tracked down the duplicitous immortal and defeated him to save a kingdom.

Both of them had liked the stories however, Fan Zhong had loved legends of all shorts, simply taking in what tales he could. Fan Yong on the other hand really only fancied tales that had immortals who cultivated arts that were not of a martial nature using their understanding of the world to be on par with their weapon-wielding counterparts. It was no wonder that, when faced with a real immortal, this was the first thing that came to his mind.

“In any case… No, ‘immortals’ don’t go around refining mortals for their ‘spirit roots’ or otherwise. The reason that I’m in disguise is twofold, on one hand, the Baroness asked that my business be accomplished in a more conspicuous manner than the last time I worked for her. On the other hand, I’m as pure-blooded as Xing clansmen come, something that usually sends the local nobles and important figures into a dizzy spell trying to curry favor.” Xing Zheng sighed as he finished, likely thinking of the exhausting protocol required to deal with such people.

“Xing… as in the Xing Empire?” Fan Yong asked, confusion covering his face before bewilderment replaced it.

“Indeed, a tiresome name, if useful at times. Junior Zhong can fill you in on the details if you’d like; however, no bowing and scraping please the courts have enough of that.” The old swordsman's eyes met Fan Yong’s with a gaze as sharp as his sword, seemingly content that the young man had been sufficiently schooled on his general lack of care for protocol he continued. “Now, honestly having the both of you call me an ‘immortal’ is a bit embarrassing as it's a title I’ve yet to earn.”

Both of the young warriors shared an exchange of confused looks as he said this, seemingly unsure of what the older man meant.

“But senior, it's true, isn’t it? You’ve surpassed the level of a Supreme Grandmaster, shaking off the shackles of mortality and opening yourself to the energies of heaven and earth completely right? If that doesn’t make you immortal what does?” Fan Zhong spoke first, questions coming to his mind as fast as his mental energy could process them.

All of his life Supreme Grandmaster had been as high as the heavens and those that went beyond that were above even them. Now he was being told that there was an even higher level of existence? His mental energy allowed him to think on the subject more as the words left his mouth and it did make some sense.

Many legends spoke of one immortal defeating another and that they continued to cultivate to gain power after ascending. However, from the way, Xing Zheng spoke it seems as if ‘immortal’ had a specific meaning and that it was something that could be achieved. With an effort of will, he forced his mind to focus as the final words left his lips, intent on taking in and fully processing whatever the old swordsman told him.

Nodding to Fan Zhong to acknowledge his question, Xing Zheng slapped his bag which promptly spat out his wide-brimmed hat which he donned in a single smooth motion. As he did so the hazy bubble fell away from them and the slightest patter of rain could be heard from the outside world.

“ I have, however, that doesn’t make me immortal. In time, if my cultivation stagnates, old age will take me just as it will you, simply over the course of around 5000 years give or take a century. The term you are looking for juniors is spirit cultivator, this is something that my master informed me of many years ago. In the mortal world, it is common to refer to all those who have reached the realm past Supreme Grandmaster as ‘immortals’; however, cultivators refer to these as the ‘spirit realms’. For the spirit realms of cultivation one still has a limited lifespan but has also taken the first steps to ascending fully.” Xing Zheng paused to quickly eat a slice of the apple that was still in his hand before continuing in a calm and sagely voice “Once you’ve successfully risen through these realms you face another hurdle that needs to be overcome. That is when one enters the realm of ‘True Immortal’, having a limitless life span and defying the heavens for all time. My master has said that True Immortals have distinctions among them; however, even he is far too weak to know what they are.”

Inwardly Fan Zhong felt as if the world was disappearing, like his understanding of everything was being swallowed into a dark void. Only, he realized that this wasn’t right, rather his understanding was becoming the tiniest pinprick of light among a vast ocean of darkness. This was now his understanding of the world, where it once before had felt like it was expanding naturally and filling in at a reasonable rate; it now felt as if the endless darkness of things he didn’t know and couldn’t see stretched on for infinity.

That infinite darkness engulfed his knowledge so profoundly that it was all he could do to reign in his mind and focus on the here and now. In this way he could at least keep his thoughts grounded, not worrying about the scope of the massive world around him. Xing Zheng waited patiently as the two young men took the information in silently, idly reaching out to pet Little White who was now walking beside him at the head of the group.

After a while he nodded and slapped his bag, causing one of the swords he had used the previous day to fly and float in front of the old swordsman.

“Hmmm, it takes time to fully grasp how large the world is. Try to relax and think of other thoughts. It will take many years of reflection to fully process the weight of such things. Now, onto some more practical matters.” Xing Zheng’s tone turned from sagely scholar to casual in a seamless transition, as if changing moods for him was as simple as water flowing down a river “I hear that our destination is around a month away, in that time let's see if this old man can’t help you two.”

A wolfish smile crossed his face and he very carefully reached out and tapped the floating sword with a single finger. Suddenly the blade whirled in a complex pattern, its tip trailing a faint ethereal azure light as it drew a circle in the air with three smaller circles inside. Various lines connected two of the smaller circles, each of which lay at the top and bottom of the large circle, to the smaller one at the center.

Writhing runes that caused Fan Zhong’s eyes to hurt when he looked at them were placed within each of these smaller circles. As the older swordsman tapped the blade again it withdrew back slightly before blurring to leave two afterimages of the sword thrusting outward through the center small circle. Each of these was angled slightly so that the thrust would be gone through each man’s chest, right above the belly button where their dantian would be located.

At the same time, two streaking lights flew into their bodies in line with the thrusting afterimages. This had all occurred in just a moment and before they could even register it had happened Xing Zheng had retrieved his sword and no energy remained in the air.

“Senior… Respectfully, what the hell was that?” Fan Zhong’s mind raced, the words that the old swordsman had said to Li Cheng all those years ago flashing to his mind.

“Try to move.” Xing Zheng’s face wore a wolfish smile as he spoke in the same calm and level tone as always.

He did so and found that moving his arms or legs felt far harder as if he was moving through a thick liquid that made it almost twice as hard to move.

“So I’ve heard you juniors have had some training. Let’s see about that. My senior apprentice brothers used to use this spell on me to improve my swordsmanship! I was incredibly excited to learn it after that to allow my enemies to experience the joys of ‘training’. It turns out, however, that this spell is only effective on those at least nine small realms below the caster. Truly disappointing, however, a boon for both of you today that I decided to learn it anyway.” The smile never left his lips as Xing Zheng casually took a step and disappeared, reappearing to sit atop Little White as he pressed down a glowing palm on the spirit beast’s back that had the same rune he had applied to Fan Zhong and Fan Yong!

“You too, Sir White, think of the joys of running and training with your master! The idea of you both working together so valiantly is a truly awe-inspiring thought.” Xing Zheng nodded his head sagely as if he were imparting great wisdom to the spirit beast.

“So this spell is good for… bullying the weak? Senior, I thought you were a righteous son of the Xing Empire!” Fan Yong asked, indignation heavy in his voice as he moved his arms about trying to get used to the feeling.

“Bullying the weak? Of course not, this is simply a generous old man allowing you juniors to experience the joys of training! Now, I’ve been holding back the rain for some time and it feels like the storm is building quite significantly. Let's call it… that hill on the horizon. Get there in under an hour, then we’ll stop to rest.”

“W… What happens if we take longer than an hour?” Fan Yong’s voice contained a healthy dose of trepidation now as he eyed Xing Zheng wearily.

The old swordsman’s grin turned even more wolfish and he disappeared on the spot causing a large shockwave that dispersed all the rain within 2km of them before a downpour descended from the heavens. In the distance the silhouette of a man on a distant hill appeared, sitting in a lotus position. Groaning with no small amount of despair, both of the young men started running towards the hill.

Little White looked at them in confusion before barking happily, sprinting with all of his might as if it were the most joyous thing in the world.