Martial Immortality: Starting with the Spirit Beast Scroll

Zhao Lin was startled. ’The Spirit Beast Scroll used to react this way when it encountered a high-quality Essence Soul,’ he thought, ’but this is just a ’stone’ in my hand. It’s not a living thing, so what would it absorb?’

’Is it trying to absorb the Spiritual Qi inside?’

His mind raced. He knew he absolutely couldn’t let it happen here, so he hurriedly returned the Spirit Stone to He Shaoqun.

The Cultivation Realm had countless magical artifacts and Spiritual Objects. If anything unusual happened with him, it would surely draw suspicion—it wouldn’t be as easy to muddle through as it was in this world.

He Shaoqun was stunned for a moment, then asked in confusion, "Senior Brother, are you done looking already?"

Though his heart was pounding, Zhao Lin’s face remained as calm as ever. He smiled and said, "I like it a lot. I’m just afraid I won’t want to let go if I keep holding it."

The other boys laughed when they heard this, and even Senior Brother Xun couldn’t help but crack a smile.

After dinner, everyone cleaned up the leftover plates, bowls, and chopsticks. The sky gradually darkened, and a few of the boys started yawning again.

Senior Brother Xun glanced outside the Daoist temple and said leisurely, "Those other two will probably arrive tomorrow. I’m not going to wait up. You all should get some rest, too."

Everyone replied in agreement and went back to their rooms.

The moon climbed above the treetops, its light filtering through the window and into the room.

Zhao Lin lay on his bed fully clothed, listening to the faint, rhythmic snores from the rooms on either side. A long-lost sense of peace washed over him.

The night passed without event.

The next day, everyone got up and washed. Feeling a bit bored, they went outside the temple together to wait with Senior Brother Xun for the other two disciples.

They waited until noon, but the two still hadn’t appeared.

So Zhao Lin took the four younger disciples into town for a meal again. As they returned, they saw from afar a tall youth in a slanted-collar robe standing before the Daoist temple, speaking with Senior Brother Xun.

"Another one’s here!"

Zhu Cong leaped up and bolted over, and the others quickened their pace as well.

As they got closer, they saw that the youth had a mature-looking face, long limbs, and a sturdy frame. His cheeks were ruddy, but his eyes were very clear and bright.

A thought struck Zhao Lin. ’This young man’s appearance isn’t typical of someone from the Central Plains.’

He had participated in many martial arts assemblies and had seen many foreign peoples. Judging by the youth’s appearance, he was most likely from the northern Wuzhu.

"Hey Senior Brother, what’s your name?" Zhu Cong asked as he ran over.

The tall, sturdy youth glanced down at Zhu Cong and answered in a halting Central Plains dialect, "My name is Tong Mu."

"Your surname is Tong?"

Zhu Cong’s face was full of curiosity. "Is that really a surname?"

Senior Brother Xun smiled and explained, "It’s an uncommon name around here. He is one of the Di People."

"The Di People? No wonder he looks different from us."

Understanding dawned on the other boys.

The Great Yue’s martial prowess was currently flourishing, and the surrounding nations dared not cause trouble. So, the boys didn’t feel any hostility toward Tong Mu, but rather peppered him with questions about his origins.

Tong Mu was a bit reserved at first, but seeing everyone’s friendly attitude, he slowly relaxed and told them his story.

Just as Zhao Lin had guessed, Tong Mu was from Wuzhu, the son of a herder. When he was three, his father was killed in a tribal conflict, and his mother was taken by another tribe and forced to remarry. He himself became a slave to a nobleman.

He herded sheep from a young age, right up until a stationed cultivator passed by and discovered he had a dual-attribute Wind and Wood, Lower Grade Spiritual Root...

After hearing his story, everyone instinctively looked toward Li Sancai. Their experiences were somewhat similar, but by comparison, Li Sancai’s was even more tragic.

Zhao Lin took out two steamers of buns from his bundle and patted Tong Mu’s shoulder. "You came at just the right time. They’re still warm."

Tong Mu saw that Zhao Lin was a good deal older than the other boys and assumed he was one of the stationed cultivators. He quickly bowed to accept the buns. "Thank you... Daoist."

Everyone burst into laughter at his words, while Tong Mu looked on blankly, not knowing what he had said wrong.

Zhao Lin wasn’t bothered. He shook his head gently. "I’m no Daoist. Just call me Senior Brother Zhao."

Only then did Tong Mu understand that Zhao Lin, like them, was also a disciple about to enter the sect.

"Thank you, Senior Brother Zhao."

Tong Mu offered his thanks again, this time with the correct title, then picked up the buns and wolfed them down.

Aside from Zhao Lin, this was the first time the other boys had ever interacted with someone from a foreign tribe, let alone been to the northern steppes. They all pestered Tong Mu to tell them stories about the grasslands.

Unfortunately, Tong Mu spent all his days with cattle and sheep, leading a rather dull life. He spoke drily for a while until the boys grew drowsy.

Senior Brother Xun stood outside the Daoist temple, frequently gazing into the distance. He seemed to place great importance on this last arrival.

Zhao Lin thought, ’There are six of us now. Three with Lower Grade Spiritual Roots, and three with Middle Grade. I wonder what grade the last person will have?’

The thought had barely formed when he heard Senior Brother Xun’s laughter from outside. "Brother Hong, you’ve finally arrived!"

Everyone rushed out of the Daoist temple and saw a Daoist approaching on the main road with a blue-robed youth.

They knew without asking that the blue-robed youth was the last disciple.

He had an upright posture and refined features. He was dressed in a round-collared, narrow-sleeved robe with a leather belt and black boots—the attire of a martial artist.

Zhao Lin was surprised. ’Everyone else came alone or with family, but this youth was personally escorted by a stationed cultivator.’

’This person’s Spiritual Root grade must be high!’

The Daoist surnamed Hong exchanged some pleasantries with Senior Brother Xun, then smiled and said, "I’ve brought him here. I’ll leave the rest to you, Junior Brother Xun."

Senior Brother Xun clasped his hands. "Don’t worry, Senior Brother Hong."

The Daoist surnamed Hong nodded, glanced at the youth, and then strode away.

"Senior Brother, what’s your name?"

"What grade is your Spiritual Root?"

The moment the Daoist named Hong was gone, the others swarmed the blue-robed youth, chattering away with questions.

The blue-robed youth seemed accustomed to grand occasions and wasn’t flustered at all. He gave a slight clasp of his hands and said, "My name is Lin Chaoran. I have an Earth Grade Spiritual Root."

"Earth Grade!"

Everyone gasped, their eyes filled with envy and astonishment.

Zhao Lin understood. ’Earth Grade Spiritual Roots are exceptionally rare, so the sect must value him highly. No wonder he had a personal escort.’

"Junior Brother Lin, which sect did you practice martial arts in?"

Lin Chaoran’s Qi and Blood were abundant, and Zhao Lin immediately sensed that he was at the Qi Cultivation Second Layer.

To reach such a realm at his age, he must have been a disciple of one of the three major sects.

Since he wasn’t from the Xingyun Sect, he had to be from either the Li Yang Sect or the Southern Suppression Sect.

Sure enough, Lin Chaoran raised an eyebrow, somewhat surprised. "Senior Brother has a sharp eye. I am a disciple of the Li Yang Sect’s Hanguang Institute."

The Li Yang Sect’s Hanguang Institute was the equivalent of the Xingyun Sect’s Wuxiang Institute—both were places where talented disciples gathered.

’This Lin Chaoran is truly a dragon among men, gifted in both martial practice and Dao cultivation.’

Lin Chaoran was also sizing up Zhao Lin, but with his level of cultivation, he naturally couldn’t gauge his depth. He asked, "Senior Brother Zhao, you practice martial arts as well, don’t you?"

Zhao Lin answered vaguely, "I’ve practiced for a few years."

With all seven disciples gathered, they established seniority by age. Zhao Lin was, without question, the Eldest Senior Brother. Tong Mu from Wuzhu was sixteen and ranked second.

Li Sancai, Lin Chaoran, and He Shaoqun were all fifteen. By birth month, Lin Chaoran was the oldest, followed by He Shaoqun. Li Sancai only knew his age, not his birth month, so he willingly took the last spot among them.

After them came fourteen-year-old Bai He and twelve-year-old Zhu Cong.

Senior Brother Xun looked around at everyone and smiled. "Now that everyone’s here, we set sail tomorrow."