Chapter Ten: The Discovery of the Immortal Technique

All right, Xue’er, please arrange guest rooms for the two of them. I’ll leave you young people to yourselves now. With a gentle wave of her sleeve, Dao Hui Chun departed.

Chattering all the way, Xue’er enthusiastically introduced Dao Sansheng and the Fatty to the various features of their estate. They walked from the main hall to the rear courtyard, which was quite spacious. In the middle stood a rockery, marked by countless gashes from blades and swords. At its summit, a spring bubbled forth, spilling into a pool beneath the stones.

The water they’d glimpsed earlier in the corridor must have originated here. The area was ringed with small gardens. Xue’er led the two guests to the left, through one such garden, where they encountered two small rooms situated close to the spring—the rush of water was palpable even from within.

“These are your rooms. Rest here for now. My father needs me, so I’ll take my leave,” Xue’er said, her white figure vanishing into the distance.

Dao Sansheng finally turned to speak to the Fatty. “There are two rooms. Choose one, and I’ll take the other.”

“I’ll take the inner room. The outer one is too noisy,” Fatty declared, pushing open the door and heading in to rest.

Dao Sansheng entered his own room. The layout was peculiar—rectangular from the outside, but upon entering, it revealed itself as a diamond shape, reminiscent of a throwing dart. The lamp glowed a soft blue, its flame unlike any Dao Sansheng had seen before. The room was strange indeed.

He examined the bed—a crystal-clear, irregular diamond shape, flat on top but lacking any blanket or bedding. How was one supposed to sleep here? He slipped on the floor, realizing it was made of jade—exceedingly lavish. Yet compared to the bed, the two seemed worlds apart. He decided to make do for now.

Dao Sansheng didn’t dare be too picky and settled in, resolving to worry about the future later. Suddenly, he remembered the few serpent eggs and the mysterious spirit beast egg. He took them out and set them on the table.

“Finally, I can rest. You’ve all been tucked against my chest, making me uncomfortable for so long. Now at last I can lay you out,” he sighed.

Afterward, Dao Sansheng sat cross-legged on the bed to meditate. For days now, he’d been driven and pursued, all because he lacked the strength to defend himself. He hadn’t even reached the first stage of Qi cultivation; his poor aptitude was to blame. Still, he had to try. Perhaps he could manage to draw in spiritual energy.

Night descended quietly. Dao Sansheng practiced the Daoist technique passed down in his family, his hands moving in intricate patterns as he muttered the incantations. Half an hour later, there was still no sense of spiritual energy. He opened his eyes.

“Let me try again. I refuse to believe it’s impossible.” He attempted once more, but achieved nothing. Sitting on the bed in a daze, he wondered: Was this it? Was he truly a waste, doomed to wait until he turned twelve before Qi would enter his body?

According to family records, prodigies could sense spiritual energy from birth. Ordinary geniuses managed by age three, typical children between five and six, those with poor aptitude around ten, and the truly hopeless had to wait until twelve.

He’d forgotten the items his birth parents left him. Perhaps it was time to take them out; there might be treasures to inherit. Without further hesitation, Dao Sansheng retrieved his bundle and unwrapped the dust-laden red cloth kept for years.

Three objects greeted him, along with a slip of paper. Ignoring the note for the moment, he examined the items—a jade plaque inscribed with bold, ancient characters, “Sansheng Secret—Earth Chapter.” The writing seemed very old, but since he had no spiritual power, he couldn’t decipher its contents.

He tossed it aside. The second item resembled a magnifying glass, with a handle made of some unknown beast bone. The lens was a mysterious beast’s eye, and the eyeball within suddenly rotated. Dao Sansheng instinctively threw it away.

“What kind of monstrous thing is this? Scared me half to death!” He tumbled from the bed onto the floor in fright.

The third item was a hair tie, apparently of little use. Dao Sansheng was exasperated. What kind of inheritance was this? None of it seemed useful. Only then did he notice the slip of paper and picked it up to read.

“Sansheng, I am your mother. Do you know why you are named Sansheng? It is because your father and I acquired this celestial secret—the Sansheng Secret—and thus named you. The Sansheng Secret is the most precious gift I leave to you. You must study it well and never share it with others. Once you’ve read it, the jade storing the technique will be destroyed. No one has ever cultivated this technique; your fate depends on chance. As for the hair tie, it is crafted from the celestial flying stone your father and I seized, and serves as a storage ring, functioning like a typical storage pouch. And your father prepared a small surprise for you—the cultivation detection lens made from beast bone. Don’t underestimate it; it can help you identify many things unknown to you. A drop of blood will let it enter your consciousness and assist you.”

The message ended abruptly. Dao Sansheng felt disgruntled. What sort of things had his parents left him? Only the celestial secret seemed remotely useful, and even that depended on fate. The rest was hardly worth mentioning. He decided to test the cultivation detection lens.

He bit his finger, letting a drop of blood fall onto the eye. The eye became increasingly red, but nothing else happened, save for its deepening hue.

“So this is the surprise from my unseen father? If anything, it’s more of a fright. Is it broken now? The eye looks infected, growing ever redder—useless except as trash,” Dao Sansheng fretted.

He impatiently touched the cultivation detection lens. The moment his hand met the beast bone, it vanished. But in his mind, a voice sounded.

“Master, the Immortal Lens is delighted to serve you. I am your personal steward from now on; summon me whenever needed.” The voice faded, leaving Dao Sansheng unaware of its whereabouts.

“So it needs a touch after the blood? What a peculiar habit,” he mused.

He decided to test it out. Dao Sansheng looked at the Sansheng Secret and silently called out in his mind, “Immortal Lens, examine this item for me… Immortal Lens, examine this item for me…” After repeating the request a dozen times, a stream of data appeared in his mind.

“Sansheng Secret—Earth Chapter. Immortal-grade technique, White-grade. Beginner Immortal Technique. No rank, can grow. Cultivation requirements: None—randomly chooses its master. Technique description: Can grow into an Immortal Secret, currently White-grade beginner.”

From what Dao Sansheng knew, cultivation techniques were divided into six grades and three ranks: White, Yellow, Blue, Green, Purple, and Immortal. Each grade included beginner, intermediate, and advanced ranks. Normally, techniques were ranked by color; Blue-grade and above were rare, let alone Immortal-grade, which existed only in legend. Even Purple-grade techniques were reserved for the core disciples of the top sects.

“I was excited for nothing. As expected, this technique is only White-grade beginner. Its so-called potential is just an empty promise, like painting a pie to stave off hunger. Looks like I need to find a new technique—this one’s inferior even to the miscellaneous Daoist servants’ methods, which at least reach White-grade advanced.”

Dao Sansheng tossed the jade plaque onto the table in frustration. “I won’t study it. Let whoever wants it have it.”

He sat cross-legged to meditate. The Immortal Lens’s voice echoed in his consciousness: “Master, please use your spiritual sense to communicate with me in the future. Thank you.” The voice faded again.

“Not only have I failed at Qi cultivation, now even a lousy mirror bullies me,” Dao Sansheng grumbled, picking up the hair tie and flinging it across the room.