The boat glided over the water. Dou-Jin couldn’t figure out what it was about the movement of the bright blue vessel that was so unsettling. Watching the water swirl and eddy around the boat, he suddenly realized. The boat didn’t rock or bob with the current of the water around it, and it left no wake behind. He had never encountered Immortals before, now he realized even the smallest things might be different. He didn’t know anything about what lay ahead.

A shy hand nudged his arm. Dou-Jin looked to his right. It was the plump boy who had lion’s ears and wings. He whispered everything he said. “I’m a metal type. What are you?”

“I’m not sure. What is a metal type?”

An urgent, somewhat boastful reedy voice came from his left. “A metal type is one of the spiritual roots. There are five. I am fire type.” It was the scrawny, excited boy in somewhat expensive clothes that had been standing in front of Dou-Jin in line earlier. Dou-Jin tried to interject with a question, but the boy sped up, producing a wall of words. He talked a mile a minute, explaining all about spiritual roots, elemental affinities, and sects. “There are four main sects, but we’re going to the Azure Dragon Sect.” He gasped deeply, having run out of breath during his long monologue.

The lion-eared boy to his right took advantage of the momentary silence. “My name is Bi-Feng.”

“I’m Dou-Jin.”

Bi-Feng opened his mouth to continue, but the scrawny boy started up again. “My name is Wei-Wang. You can call me Xiao-Wang. I know I look younger, but I’m thirteen years old. The men in my family don’t grow tall until later. I’ve read everything about Immortals, so if you don’t know anything, you can ask me, I’ll help you out.” Having chattered himself out of breath, Wei-Wang took another gasping inhale and looked at the two other boys with something of a grandfatherly, proprietary air.

Bi-Feng glanced at Dou-Jin with a small, slightly amused smile.

Dou-Jin heard a snort behind him. He looked back, but all he saw was a quiet girl with a completely blank face and a drowsy, apathetic expression. She looked human, but exuded an impression of sleekness, like a snake gliding through the grass. Her black hair hung down smoothly from her head like silk.

Wei-Wang glanced back too and started up again, “That’s Xiao-Qing. She has a fire spiritual root too. Her sister is an apothecary.” Wei-Wang had used his time in line to thoroughly interrogate all his future sect companions. He continued to introduce the others on the boat to Dou-Jin.

In total, there were eight people on the boat, including Elder Brother Qiao, who had administered the recruitment test. Dou-Jin glanced over at the opposite side of the boat. The boy who had glared at him aggressively was sitting in silence, not interacting with anyone. He was staring fixedly at the scenery they passed, as if he didn’t care, but Dou-Jin saw him glance at the chattering group a few times before sliding his eyes away as if he hadn’t. According to Wei-Wang, the boy was called Hao-Lan, and he was a wood-type spiritual root, with a wind affinity.

Wei-Wang looked at the boy enviously. Azure Dragon Sect accepted recruits with all five types of spiritual roots. Apart from the rudimentary techniques, there were eight types of techniques for which cultivators could have affinities. Azure Dragon Sect specialized in wind-based techniques, and wind practitioners might learn extremely advanced secret cultivation methods from the sect masters.

Dou-Jin remained silent about his own spirit root, or lack thereof. During the recruitment test, the flute had lit up, but only briefly, and its color hadn’t been clear. He was secretly worried that someone would discover he didn’t actually belong in the sect. He had firmly grasped the hope of somehow, someday, understanding what happened to his father. Wei-Wang didn’t seem to notice the omission, as he was more interested in talking than listening.

The boat moved on swiftly. Dou-Jin felt a strange distortion and the boat was moving on the river, the same river, but not the same river. The air was filled with a sweet fragrance. Peach trees in full blossom covered the river banks and stretched as far as the eye could see. A gentle breeze caught the light pink petals, which floated through the air before fluttering to the surface of the water.

In the Mortal Realms it was already almost autumn, but in the land of Azure Dragon Sect there was a perpetual spring. The other three sects each had their own season. On the mountains of the White Tiger Sect to the west, trees always bore red and gold autumn leaves. Members of the Black Tortoise Sect to the north dwelled in snow and ice all year round. And for the fire-wielding members of the southern Vermilion Bird Sect, it was perpetually summer.

A mountain loomed ahead, and the gleaming river got narrower and narrower before threading into a cave at the base of the mountain. The cave was so narrow that you could reach out and touch the clammy, luminescent wall from the boat. The boat glided along into the cave and Bi-Feng, the boy with lion ears, gave a startled cry. It was a huge contrast to his usual whisper. The roar was enormously loud, and echoed off the sides of the cave like a gong. Bi-Feng covered his mouth in embarrassment and glanced at Elder Brother Qiao, who didn’t turn around. Then, red-faced, he turned to Dou-Jin and whispered, “Sorry,” even quieter than usual. Dou-Jin smiled at him reassuringly. He was nervous himself, there was a cavernous feeling in the pit of his stomach.

Soon they emerged from the narrow tunnel. It took a moment to adjust their eyes to daylight. Azure Dragon Sect was ethereally beautiful. Many blue mountains rose through the mist, birds sang, and the fragrance of thousands of flowers floated in the air. Dou-Jin could see a wide, pure blue lake almost covered in pink lotus flowers and pale green lilypads. Even Wei-Wang was silent with wonder.

Dou-Jin entered Zhu-Yin Pavilion for his Qi Cultivation class. The wall-less pavilion was surrounded by swaying bamboo, and a balmy breeze wafted through the simple room. The students all sat on the floor. The past few days had gone by like a blur. Besides the seven students who had been on the boat, there were about fourteen more new recruits. The recruits on the boat had come from the Mortal Realms, but the others had come from various Immortal tribes around the Azure Dragon Sect’s lands.

In addition to the new recruits, three of the Qi Cultivation class’s students already lived in the Azure Dragon Sect. Lin-Qing was the grandson of Patriarch Shan. The boy was very tall, and had an extremely elegant appearance. He didn’t interact with any of the recruits, nor had Dou-Jin seen him show any emotion. The other two were Yun-Xuan and Yun-Ying. Yun-Xuan, like Lin-Qing, was emotionless. She was very beautiful, with luminous skin and a melodious voice. Yun-Ying, on the other hand, seemed somewhat petulant, and Dou-Jin had seen her scowling resentfully when her sister gently corrected her.

Dou-Jin was pretty sure those three were already beyond the level of the class, but because of the rules of advancement into the sect hierarchy, they had to participate with the other recruits.

The first day, one of the middle-ranked disciples explained the process to the new recruits. There would be several months of training, then the recruits would go through an unspecified challenge. Recruits who passed the challenge could stay in the Azure Dragon Sect. However, they would not necessarily receive training.

In order to receive training, recruits that successfully passed the challenge would still have to participate in a competition. If one recruit won a competition match against a fellow recruit, then he or she would be assigned a master. The master would be drawn from a pool of higher ranked core sect disciples. None of the recruits had seen high-level disciples yet, and Wei-Wang was buzzing with curiosity.

Apart from the hierarchy of the sect were the complexities of Qi Cultivation levels, which Dou-Jin still did not fully understand. Recruits received training in Qi-Gong, specifically in the Dragon style. Qi ran through physical meridians, and the exercise was fundamental for cultivators to develop an awareness of their meridians. Without it, cultivation could lead to injury.

Dou-Jin sat on the ground, Bi-Feng and Wei-Wang on either side. He somewhat expected the teacher, Elder Sister Feng, to travel in puffs of cloud or flashes of light, but instead she simply walked into the classroom. Elder Sister Feng had an oval face with a serene expression. Her long pale-gray robes didn't move at all as she walked, giving an impression of perfect stillness. She sat cross-legged on a low platform, then placed one hand on the other, thumbs touching, and cupped them over her lower abdomen. The students imitated her posture.

Slowly, she guided them through the technique. Dou-Jin sensed the energy in his lower dantian. Inhaling, he tried to let it rise up, up the center of his back, over the crown of his head. Then he let it fall, past the upper dantian between his eyebrows, down the center of his chest, past the middle dantian by his heart, and finally straight back down to the lower dantian.

Elder Sister Feng opened her eyes. “You have completed one circuit. Qi Cultivation is a constant process. If you hope to cultivate and gain immortality, you must circulate energy in every moment.”

Dou-Jin glanced around. Some other students were nodding. Some kept their eyes closed, continuing to circulate their spiritual energy. Dou-Jin closed his eyes again. He had not completed a whole circuit. Not even close. He sensed the Qi in his dantian and let it rise. It lumbered up like a heavy water wheel just starting to turn, or like an enormous millstone’s first laborious strain and grind from stillness to movement.

He pushed against his Qi, trying to make it circulate faster. He was suddenly reminded of one summer afternoon several years ago. It had rained in torrents for days. When the water flowed off the packed-dirt street, it carried away soil, leaving gullies and deep pockmarks behind.

The muscular, portly servant from Wan-Hua Inn drove a donkey cart that was heavily loaded with wine down the street. The cart’s wheel got stuck. By the time Dou-Jin arrived, a crowd had already gathered and was eating melon seeds and chortling as the unlucky servant thrashed the donkey with a whip and attempted to push the cart out of the pothole.

The strong man pushed hard. The cart lurched against its wheels, but it didn't budge an inch. The man continued to push. His feet started sliding backwards. He pushed harder and harder, feet sliding, running faster and faster in place. The cart didn't move forward, and the many expensive wine jars started wobbling as if they were going to fall.

At this moment, a village youth walked over from the vegetable stall down the street and offered to help. First, he went to the head of the cart and soothed the donkey. Then, he had the man put down the whip and hold the donkey's rope while the boy pushed. The crowd buzzed with amusement. The inn servant was rather large, muscular, and even portly. The village youth was average height but scrawny.

But soon, the crowd fell to silence. The village boy planted his foot firmly on the ground. Unlike the strong man, he didn't push or strain. Very slowly, he pushed, then released, gently rocking the cart back and forth, over and over. At a key moment, he applied one more light push, and the cart rolled itself out of the pothole.

As he focused on his Qi, Dou-Jin felt similar. It felt like a massive wheel just starting to grind forward. He gave gentle pushes. It was hard to find the right balance, and the right force, the right amount of effort. When class ended, he had barely made any progress.