The Storyteller

Three years later.

“…The mountain demon had grown fangs and a fearsome face. It opened its bloody maw and lunged toward Big-Head Xu. The foul stench wafting from the demon’s mouth left Big Xu dizzy and light-headed. Just as he was about to be swallowed whole by that abyss-like maw, he was so terrified that he collapsed to the ground, unable to move even a finger!”

“Big Xu thought he was surely going to die there today. He had already squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his teeth, waiting for death. But who could have known that, at that critical moment, a furious shout suddenly rang out from a hundred miles away!

‘Beast! How dare you!’

The voice was as clear and melodious as jade, filled with righteous indignation!”

“At the same time, a sharp sword wrapped in dazzling radiance flew through the air from a hundred miles away. In the blink of an eye, it arrived. With a sharp ‘squelch,’ the sword pierced straight through the mountain demon’s head!”

Big Xu opened his eyes, having narrowly escaped death, and saw a figure in the distant sky. The person wore a silver-powder-patterned Daoist robe and came stepping through the air, landing gracefully in front of him…”

A teahouse on the main street of Liaoju Prefecture was packed to the brim.

A middle-aged storyteller was surrounded by layer upon layer of customers. With a powerful voice and animated gestures, he told a new tale he had recently prepared.

At this point, he stopped instead of continuing. Stroking his carefully cultivated mustache, he slowly took a sip of tea.

Seeing this, the surrounding patrons all reached into their purses and tossed copper coins before him. The coins clattered down as the customers urged him on:

“What happened next?”

“What did this person look like?”

“A silver-powder-patterned Daoist robe? Could it have been an immortal from the Lingxian Sect?”

The storyteller waited until he had heard enough of the satisfying clink of copper coins before setting down his teacup. With a flourish, he opened his folding fan, shook his head, and continued:

“Big Xu looked toward the newcomer and saw that the person’s entire body was covered in a layer of light, as though he were an immortal banished from the heavens. His true appearance could not be seen. Yet although Big Xu had never seen a robe with silver powder patterns before, he had heard of one. Thus, he realized what was happening and exclaimed in delight, ‘Are you an immortal of the Lingxian Sect?’…”

…

This was a story the storyteller had recently heard while traveling through the nearby villages and towns to gather material. He had since embellished and polished it.

Over the past three years, the Lingxian Sect had rarely revealed itself before ordinary mortals. However, whenever the common people encountered some great difficulty, they only needed to report it to the authorities, and the Lingxian Sect would lend a hand.

Last year, when several areas of Hufang Province were plagued by drought and locusts, the Lingxian Sect even sent people throughout the region to resolve the crisis.

Thus, in a mere three years, the name Lingxian Sect had become known to everyone in Hufang Province. Even three-year-old children who barely understood the world knew the name “Lingxian.”

Although in these times few people traveled far beyond their homes aside from merchants transporting goods, word of mouth had nevertheless carried the sect’s reputation far and wide. By now, throughout the entire Kingdom of Pusi, the Lingxian Sect’s name could be said to be renowned.

This was entirely different from the way things had been with the previous three great sects.

In the past, the names of those three great sects were known only among the highest echelons of the Kingdom of Pusi. Ordinary people had rarely even heard of them.

The Lingxian Sect, however, was different. In the teahouses of every size throughout Hufang Province, stories of the sect’s efforts to help the common people had become the most popular subject of conversation.

As dusk fell, the crowds on Liaoju Prefecture’s main street began to thin. Shop assistants in front of many stores hung up lanterns that had already been lit.

“Smack!”

“And what happened next? Find out in the next installment.”

With the strike of his wooden clapper, the storyteller finished his third tale of the day. But instead of packing up and leaving as he usually did, he gave everyone a mysterious look and said:

“During this trip, I heard a piece of news concerning the Lingxian Sect…”

The patrons who had been preparing to head home for dinner immediately dropped back into their seats. Many even crowded around the storyteller.

“What news? What news? Old brother, you always keep us in suspense when you tell stories. Don’t keep us waiting this time—hurry up and tell us!”

The storyteller, however, looked displeased at the man who had spoken.

“Who are you calling ‘old brother,’ Big Yang? I was born only one day after you! You’re nearly as old as I am, yet you don’t even grow a beard and go around pretending to be young.”

The surrounding patrons burst into laughter, leaving Big Yang red-faced. Fortunately, he was used to trading barbs with the storyteller. After blushing for a moment, he waved a hand and said with a grin:

“I was only flattering you so you’d get to the point.”

Only then did the storyteller stroke his long beard and, no longer keeping them in suspense, announce:

“I hear the Lingxian Sect is about to begin accepting disciples!”

His words sent shock waves through the crowd. The patrons all drew sharp breaths, and some even cried out in surprise.

“Is that really true?!”

“Can this news be trusted?”

Having anticipated their reaction, the storyteller nodded calmly.

“It should be genuine. The news came from people in Xiushui Village. You all know Xiushui Village, don’t you?”

Of course they did.

As the Lingxian Sect’s fame had grown, Xiushui Village—a poor little settlement at the foot of the sect’s mountain, once known by almost no one—had naturally become known to more and more people.

These days, in the eyes of everyone in Hufang Province, the people of Xiushui Village were practically the embodiment of good fortune and happiness.

After all, although everyone had heard of the Lingxian Sect, very few had ever actually met one of its immortals. The villagers of Xiushui Village, however, lived right beneath the immortals’ mountain. The immortals came and went through the village every day, so the villagers might even catch sight of them.

And there was supposedly a child in the village who studied under the immortals.

Once they heard that the news had come from someone in Xiushui Village, the patrons might not have believed it completely, but most of them accepted it as true to one degree or another—at least seven or eight parts out of ten. Soon, they were all chattering excitedly with those around them.

While the teahouse patrons debated among themselves, a boy of about eight or nine years old squeezed through the crowd. His face shone with excitement as he darted out of the teahouse.

After racing down the main street, he turned into an alley. Then, after taking several twists and turns, he arrived at a narrow residential lane.

As he passed the entrance of one particular house, a familiar scolding drifted out from within. His footsteps came to an involuntary halt.

“That little brat has run off to who knows where again! It’s already dinnertime, and he’s still nowhere to be seen! You there, go catch that little rascal and drag him back!”

The boy’s body gave an almost imperceptible shudder. Then he gritted his teeth, turned his head away, and continued sneaking toward the depths of the lane.

Outside several houses, he imitated a frog’s croak a few times. Then he ran to a corner beside a haystack at the very end of the lane and crouched down to wait.

Before long, two boys about his age came running out amid their families’ shouted curses. One of them still had a strand of sweet potato clinging to the corner of his mouth.

When the two spotted the boy in the corner, they ran over and crouched around him. One of them asked:

“What’s up, Rong’er? We were in the middle of dinner when you called us out.”

The other boy added:

“My mother gave me another earful.”

The boy they called “Rong’er” ignored them. He glanced left and right, and only after confirming that no one else was coming out did he speak:

“Looks like Fourth Sis can’t get away.”

“Fourth Sis’s pa came back today. Word is, he lost money on this trip, and he’s raising hell at home. Fourth Sis definitely won’t be able to come out.”

Rong beckoned the two of them over with a crook of his finger and had them lean their heads together.

“I’ve got some wonderful news for you!”

The three boys then huddled in the corner, whispering conspiratorially.