The morning of Han Li's first true day as a disciple did not arrive gently.
It was shattered by frantic birdsong outside his window. A sound like breaking glass. His eyes flew open.
For one disoriented second, he saw familiar cracks in wood. He thought he was back in the village loft.
Then memory crashed in.
The valley. The master. The test.
The first day.
"Oh, no."
He threw off the thin blanket. His heart hammered against his ribs. Master Xiao had implied everything. Idleness had no place here.
To be found sleeping while the master worked would be an unpardonable first impression.
He fumbled into his inner garments. He pulled on the fine green outer robe. His fingers were clumsy with haste. He tied the sash in a knot his mother would have scolded him for.
He burst from his hut. The cool valley air was a shock on his face.
And there, in the soft gold light of dawn, was Physician Xiao.
The master was not waiting.
He was already deep in work. A large, weathered wooden tub sat under the eaves of the main hall. His sleeves were rolled to his elbows. Forearms corded with lean muscle moved with surgical precision.
He added pinches of dried leaves to the steaming water. Crushed roots. Crystalline powders.
A complex aroma filled the clearing. Piercing mint. Bitter gentian. The iron-tang of Spirit Nettle. Beneath it all, a scent like aged sandalwood and ozone.
The steam itself shimmered with faint light.
Han Li hurried over. His steps slowed as he approached. He bowed deeply. The formality felt absurd against the mundane labor.
"Master. This disciple apologizes for his tardiness."
Xiao did not look up. A single, acknowledging nod. His attention was on silvery, thread-like herbs in his palm.
"The valley wakes with the sun. You will learn to do the same. It is not punishment. It is alignment. The first qi of dawn is the purest."
"Master… what are you doing?"
"Preparing a bath for you."
Han Li blinked. "A… bath?"
The concept was so ordinary. So strangely personal. It clashed with the monumental shift his life had taken.
"An herbal bath," Xiao clarified. His voice was as steady as his hands. "Its purpose is not cleanliness. It is initiation. The first key to opening your meridians."
"Meridians?"
The word was familiar from tales. An abstract, mythical concept.
Xiao finished his work. He straightened. He plucked a dry branch from a nearby tree. It was the length of his forearm.
"This," he said, holding it up, "is a meridian."
Han Li stared at the dead wood. Then at his master's impassive face. Thoroughly confused.
"As thin as this branch," Xiao continued. His tone allowed no question. "But also as vast as the universe within you. It is the pathway. The riverbed."
He snapped the branch in two. A sharp, dry crack.
"Yours, at this moment, are not like this. They are clogged. Atrophied. Twisted. Not channels, but… roots."
He gestured to the gnarled root-ball of a nearby fern.
"Small. Closed. Tangled. This bath will not create your meridians. You were born with them. It will begin opening the roots. Convincing them they are meant to be rivers. Not buried threads."
He tossed the broken branch aside. Motioned to the tub.
The water was a deep, opaque emerald. It swirled with tiny, phosphorescent specks.
"Once the pathways are primed, I will provide the mantra. The Greenwood Immortal Mantra. Thirteen successive tiers."
Xiao's gaze locked onto Han Li's. The morning light caught the flecks of grey in his irises.
"You have the latent potential to cultivate this mantra. It is the reason you are here. The sole reason."
A spark of fierce pride ignited in Han Li's chest. Potential. He had been chosen for something.
"But." Xiao's next word was a bucket of cold water. "It is a potential only. Your place here is temporary."
Han Li's breath caught. The happy fantasy of security evaporated.
"Master? What do you mean?"
"I mean the path is not given. It is earned."
The physician's voice was devoid of cruelty. Also devoid of comfort. It was simply factual. Like stating the properties of a poison.
"You have one month. One month to grasp the mantra's first tier. To solidify your opened meridians. To condense your first thread of true qi."
He leaned forward slightly.
"Succeed, and you remain my disciple. Fail, and you become my attendant. A servant in this valley. The choice is made by your effort. By your body. By your will."
The ultimatum hung in the fragrant air.
A month. From root to river. From mortal to the first step of an immortal.
A cold knot formed in Han Li's stomach. Beneath it, a hotter, harder resolve solidified.
This was the test. This was the price. No village safety net. No father's forgiving silence.
Only pass or fail.
"Master," Han Li said. His voice was quieter. Steadier than he expected. "I will do whatever it takes."
A ghost of something flickered in Xiao's eyes. Approval? Pity? It was gone.
"Then begin. Remove your outer robe. Enter the tub. Do not submerge your head."
Hands trembling now for a different reason, Han Li obeyed.
He untied his sash. Shrugged off the fine green robe. Folded it carefully on a clean rock.
Clad only in thin linen trousers, he approached the tub.
The aroma was overpowering up close. The heat radiating from the water was intense.
He stepped over the edge. Lowered himself in.
The sensation was not pain. It was a profound, shocking invasion.
As if the water were not liquid. But a living substance. A thousand tiny, searching needles of heat and cold simultaneously.
They did not prick his skin. They passed through it. Seeking entry at every pore.
He gasped. Muscles locking. The urge to leap out was an animal instinct. Flee the strange assault.
"Sit. Be still."
Xiao's command brooked no disobedience.
Han Li forced himself down. The steaming emerald liquid rose to his collarbones.
The initial shock deepened. A resonant thrumming vibrated in the marrow of his bones.
A peculiar tugging deep within his abdomen. Along his spine. As if something were being gently, insistently drawn to the surface.
"Now, listen. The mind directs the energy. The words shape the mind. Repeat the mantra after me. Do not think of meaning yet. Think only of sound. Vibration within your body."
Xiao began to speak. His voice dropped into a rhythmic, chanting cadence. It seemed to sync with the pulsing of the bath.
"Qi is nature."
Han Li's teeth were almost chattering. "Q-Qi is nature."
"Louder. Believe the sound."
"Qi is nature!"
"Emptiness is the origin."
"Emptiness is the origin!"
"Let the qi devour in me."
"Let… let the qi devour in me."
"Good. Again. From the beginning. Feel it in your dantian. Below your navel. Let the sound resonate there."
And so it began.
Under the brightening sky. Steam wreathing his head like a phantom crown. Han Li chanted.
His master stood as a silent overseer. Correcting his tone. His breath. The placement of his attention.
Minutes stretched into an hour. The sun climbed.
The vibrating sensation intensified. It focused from a general hum into specific, sharp lines of pressure.
Along his arms. Down his legs. Coiling around his spine.
Not painful. But present. Like ropes being pulled taut beneath his skin.
He chanted. His throat grew raw.
His mind, terrified of failing, clung to the words as a lifeline.
Qi is nature. Emptiness is the origin. Let the qi devour in me.
The pressure built. The lines of sensation began to burn. A clean, scouring heat.
He felt a terrifying, exhilarating sense of opening.
As if sealed doors in a dark, internal castle were being blown off their hinges. One by one. By a relentless wind.
The wind was the mantra. The wind was the herbal energy searing through him.
He lost track of time. Of self. Of everything but the sound in his throat and the fire in his veins.
The world narrowed to the cycle. Breath. Phrase. The expanding, straining feeling within.
Then, it peaked.
A final, silent click at the base of his skull.
Followed by a roaring surge. As if a dam made of mud and roots had finally given way.
Energy—wild, chaotic, immense—flooded the newly opened pathways.
It was too much.
The delicate, root-like meridians, forced open too wide, too fast, shrieked in protest.
Han Li's chant cut off in a strangled gasp.
His eyes flew open. Wide and unseeing. A silent scream locked in his throat.
A white-hot bolt of pure feedback lanced from his core to his extremities.
He saw not the valley. But a starburst of green and gold light behind his eyes.
Then, nothing.
He slumped forward. Unconscious. His head lolled toward the potent water.
---
Physician Xiao was moving before Han Li's body went fully limp.
A blur of white cloth. He was at the tub's edge. His hands plunged into the herbal solution without hesitation.
He hauled the boy out. Water sluiced off the lean, pale form.
He carried him effortlessly into the hut. Laid him on the bed. Movements swift and sure.
One hand went to Han Li's neck. The pulse was a frantic, fluttering bird. Strained, but strong.
The other hand pressed flat against Han Li's lower abdomen. Over the dantian.
Xiao closed his eyes. His own breathing slowed to a whisper.
He was listening. Feeling.
Inside Han Li, the chaotic flood was receding. It left behind raw, but open, pathways.
The roots had been shattered. In their place was the faint, glimmering outline of channels.
Thin. Fragile. Abused. But present.
The foundation was laid.
A slow, genuine smile touched Physician Xiao's lips. A private thing of profound satisfaction.
"Success," he murmured to the silent room.
He covered Han Li with a dry blanket. Left him to the deep, healing sleep of total shock.
---
Eight hours later.
The sun had arced across the sky. It began its descent, painting the valley in amber and lavender.
Physician Xiao emerged from his chamber. A small, unadorned vial of pale jade was clutched in his hand.
Inside, a single pill rested. The color of aged ivory. Tiny characters etched into its surface.
通脉丹 — Meridian Strengthening Pill.
He held it up to the fading light.
"This," he whispered, his voice a low rumble, "is you now, Han Li. Fragile. Refined. Needing reinforcement."
It was not a metaphor he would share. Some truths were for the master alone.
He entered the hut.
Han Li was awake. Lying on his back. Staring at the ceiling with a dazed expression.
He turned his head as Xiao entered. His movements were slow. As if his body were an unfamiliar instrument.
"Master… what happened to me?"
"You, brat," Xiao said. The gruffness in his tone could not mask a thread of warmth. "Have done something I did not expect on this first day."
He sat on the stool beside the bed.
"You did not merely prime the meridians. You forced them open. You took not a step, but a reckless, painful leap toward the First Tier. You have crossed the hardest threshold."
Han Li's eyes, glassy with exhaustion, sharpened. They ignited with a light that had nothing to do with the setting sun.
"Master… are you telling the truth?"
"I do not traffic in lies where cultivation is concerned. The truth is in your body. Can you not feel it?"
Han Li focused inward.
The searing pain was gone. Replaced by a deep, bruised feeling. And yes—a strange hum. A new layer of perception.
He could feel the weight of the blanket. The residual heat of the day in the wooden walls. The faint, living pulse of the valley itself.
It was terrifying. And wonderful.
"This," Xiao said, placing the jade vial in his hand, "will stabilize what you have torn open. Take it now. It will soothe the abrasions. Begin the work of strengthening."
Han Li sat up, wincing. He swallowed the pill dry.
It dissolved on his tongue not with taste, but with a wave of cool, spreading numbness. It flowed instantly down his throat. Coated his insides. Doused the last embers of internal heat.
"Rest now," Xiao commanded. "The work of the day is done. It is past dusk. Tomorrow, we build upon this ruin you have made of your old body."
The physician left. He closed the door softly behind him.
Alone, Han Li lay back.
The cool numbness from the pill spread through him. A blessed relief.
He replayed his master's words. You have crossed the hardest threshold.
A fierce, disbelieving joy surged through him. So potent it overshadowed the ache.
He had done it. He had taken the first, impossible leap.
Mother. Father. The thought was a silent prayer. I have done it.
His hand crept to his chest. To the hidden pouch. To the jade disc beneath his shirt.
Real mother. Real father. I have found the path. I have taken the first step.
The master's ultimatum echoed. Now a challenge, not a threat.
One month. I must reach the First Tier. I must be stable. I must be real.
Outside his window, the Green Valley settled into deep twilight.
The chorus of insects began. A rhythmic, soothing drone.
The air, sweet with night-blooming flowers and damp earth, drifted in.
To Han Li's newly sensitive perception, the very silence seemed to hold a gentle, approving hum.
As if the valley itself was aware.
Aware of the seismic shift within one of its newest, most fragile residents.
And was happy with him.