Chapter 37: Within the Cycle of Reincarnation (Part 1)

The old madam was a second wife, and only the third master and the sixth young lady were her own children. No wonder she was neither warm nor cold toward him early in the morning, yet insisted he go pay his respects. It seemed that if one was not her own flesh and blood, she simply would not care.

What was this world called? Which continent did they belong to? Even Agen himself did not know, so of course he could not tell Qin Chengming. But he did know the place was called Dongzhou City, territory of the Xun Yin Sect, one of the five great sects. The master of their family had three sons, and two had already entered the Xun Yin Sect. The eldest, due to lacking talent and being the young master of the family, remained at home to cultivate. All eight young ladies of the family, without exception, had entered Xun Yin Sect as well. Though the third, fifth, sixth, and eighth young ladies were still outer sect disciples, they had all been promised to masters, and barring unforeseen circumstances, would enter the inner sect after the grand sect competition in two years. This was indeed the very model of a cultivation family.

As for Jiang Chengming himself, being young and without anyone to recommend him, he had yet to participate in the entrance examination for the Xun Yin Sect even once.

His own father, the second master, cared for nothing in the household except his business in distant lands. There, he had beloved wives and concubines, and children by the dozen—how could he possibly remember he had a legitimate son at home? If he returned home once every year or two, that was already remarkable; how could any real family affection be cultivated?

This situation was certainly disadvantageous for the real Jiang Chengming, but for the current Qin Chengming, it was highly favorable. After all, other than young Agen, no one in the household truly understood what kind of person Jiang Chengming was. Thus, there was no need for him to disguise himself too painstakingly, which suited him, as he was not one adept at such pretenses.

Each day passed according to routine: rise, pay respects, attend lessons, return for supper, go to bed. A whole year went by like this. No sudden visits from friends, no one with more courage than sense came to trouble a small child like him.

At first, Wang Tutor’s lessons left him a little confused. But after listening for a while, and reviewing Jiang Chengming’s old lecture notes, he soon caught up with the rhythm of the classes. Of course, it helped that the child himself had not studied for long.

Qin Chengming had no idea when he might return to Yandong. Here, all his previous cultivation was useless, and none of the techniques in his memory could be practiced. His storage pouch would not open, nor could he enter his small space. He now had nothing at all. If not for his unaltered or unsealed memories, he might have believed himself to truly be Jiang Chengming, and that Qin Chengming was nothing but a dream.

He was now a solitary soul, and even the Yandong Continent was a strange land to him. What did it matter where he stayed? Since his old cultivation was lost, he would simply start anew.

On the nineteenth day of the ninth month, the Immortal Spirit Festival was celebrated. It was said that on this day, an immortal descended from the heavens and imparted supreme cultivation arts to mortals, thus opening the path to immortality. Since then, this day became the grand occasion for all major sects to open their gates and recruit disciples.

This time, when Xun Yin Sect opened its gates, Qin Chengming was also slotted into the group. He was already eight years old by nominal age; Xun Yin Sect rarely recruited children from cultivation families over the age of ten, unless they were extraordinarily gifted. The sect only opened its gates once every three years—if he missed this chance, there would be no other. His father was earning money for the family outside; if his own son did not even get a chance to enter the immortal sect, what would people say? No one would think it natural—they would only say he was being bullied as the second branch’s child, and the Qin family, his mother’s side, would take notice.

The Qin family was not like the Jiang family—a nouveau riche. They were a clan with a legacy of tens of thousands of years. Though fallen from glory, even a decaying ship has three pounds of nails; who could say there were no in-laws of the Qin family in Dongzhou City?

The Xun Yin Sect’s gate-opening ceremony began at noon. On this festival, all schools would close for the day. Qin Chengming had planned to sleep in, but at dawn, before the sky had brightened, an excited Agen who had been awake all night dug him out of bed.

“Young master, it’s getting late! Breakfast is ready—I’ve prepared it for you. The old madam said yesterday there’s no need to pay respects today. After breakfast, we can head straight to the central plaza to gather.

There’s a rule in Xun Yin Sect: no matter how far or near you live, if you wish to enter the immortal gate, on this day you must walk; no vehicles are permitted.

Though we live close to the plaza, it’s best to go early and get at the front of the line. There’s an awning there; whether it rains or shines, it’s more comfortable than waiting at the back.”

Agen chattered on, sharing all he had gathered over the past days. Qin Chengming, not wishing to waste the boy’s efforts, quickly finished his meal, had Agen pack food and water for lunch, and set out.

He thought they were early, but upon stepping outside, every street was already packed with crowds. Fortunately, the awning had been extended for the day, and the two of them just managed to squeeze under it.

There was still a long wait before the disciple selection began, and the line was not moving. Qin Chengming took two wooden sticks from Agen’s bundle and, with a few casual movements, turned them into small stools.

Agen stared wide-eyed, dumbfounded as the unremarkable sticks transformed into dainty stools. He asked in astonishment, “Young master, when did you put these in? Weren’t they just sticks? How did they become stools? Don’t tell me, you’ve already learned some immortal technique?”

Many bored onlookers watched, though few would make a fuss at this time, but their burning gazes nearly seared him. They were all children under ten—who wasn’t curious?

Qin Chengming had no wish to explain at length. He simply glanced at Agen, “Others are queuing, standing quietly. You have a seat, yet you talk so much?”

Agen immediately fell silent.

In such a quiet crowd, time seemed to crawl. Even in this cultivation world, not all children under ten possessed self-restraint. Whispers were everywhere, and when conversations failed, some children even resorted to scuffles.

Agen, though too timid to wander, soon befriended several children nearby. Before long, he was addressing them as brothers, chatting enthusiastically.

Most here were from established families, each allowed to bring a servant. The masters wanted to learn about the competition before the selection, and as they could not inquire directly, the servants’ cleverness became crucial.

Agen, for all his youthful appearance and honest face, was attentive and shrewd. When Qin Chengming had tried to probe him earlier, Agen likely sensed something amiss, but his loyalty outweighed suspicion.

At first, Qin Chengming thought him an ordinary child, easy to deceive. But after seeing his thoughtful expressions and the curiosity in his eyes, he dared not let himself go, and began to shape his behavior more in line with that of Jiang Chengming. As for later changes, those could come slowly and would not be a problem.