Volume One: The Wild Child Chapter One: No Immortals Before the Dawn
Once there was a dream, untouched by the dust of the mundane world, yet day after day, its end remained forever out of sight.
The swordsman at the mountain gate bowed his head; the Taoist seeking immortality returned to his temple.
As innocent as a child untouched by the ways of the world.
Before his eyes, technology had replaced “ignorance”; the chaos of the world could no longer be refined back to simplicity. Through the cycles of spring and autumn, the dream, at last, is fated to break.
……
On the overpass, the crowd ebbed and flowed. Beneath it, an old man sat—a blind fortune-teller, eyes closed, calling himself a descendant of the hemp-robed seers, reading bones and faces for passersby.
“Young man, I see your bones are extraordinary, and at such a young age, you already have the countenance of a noble. Remarkable, remarkable! Would you like me to read your fortune? Look at the banner—descendant of the hemp-robed, honest with all, young or old!”
The young man couldn’t help but laugh, turning out his pockets to show the old man. The emptiness there rivaled the few coins left in the fortune-teller’s begging bowl: utterly bare.
The old man smiled, unconcerned. “Well, I’m in good spirits today. How about a free reading?”
“You don’t seem like a good person,” the youth replied, shaking his head and turning to leave.
The old man grew anxious, his voice rising, “Why would you say that? You haven’t a coin to your name—what could an old man like me possibly swindle from you?”
“Obviously, you’re jealous of my looks,” the young man said with mock melancholy, leaning in to whisper, “Because of this, I encounter supernatural events every day.”
“Oh? Care to tell me more? Dealing with monsters and evil spirits is my specialty.” The fortune-teller fetched a new sign from behind, which read: “Direct disciple of the Celestial Master of Dragon-Tiger Mountain.”
“Every time I wash my face at home with my eyes closed, I’m startled the moment I open them. Because in the mirror, a face leaps out—damn handsome, so much that I can’t pull myself away, always losing track of time.” The youth gritted his teeth as he spoke, clearly disdaining such shameless reliance on good looks.
The fortune-teller: ……
Seeing the old man unresponsive for a long while, the youth’s eye twitched. He smirked and said, “Your business model is quite self-sufficient… I suppose you can help me, then.”
“Ah, let me be truthful with you. I’m actually a renowned gynecologist, and particularly skilled in treating cerebral palsy—but in your case, it’s quite severe. Frankly, your best option is to be reborn.”
This time, the youth left without hesitation, not giving the old man the slightest chance.
“Fortune-telling relies on birth date and hour, analyzing fate and character. But you claim to see all with just a glance?” Someone standing beside the youth stopped him. This companion was plump, with glasses perched on his nose, poorly dressed, and showed no trace of scholarly air.
The old man twisted his beard and scoffed, “Birth dates, fate charts—those are just tricks for the gullible. True fortune-telling is about storytelling and entertainment. If you can make your customer happy, that’s real skill.”
“So you’re just a con man then. Let’s go, Changtian, don’t waste time on him,” the companion interjected, feigning anger. But his round figure made him look rather amiable, impossible to dislike.
But the youth seemed thoughtful. He waved the other off, “You head back first, I’ll be along soon.” With that, he ignored his friend, squatted down, and reached for the coins in the white porcelain bowl.
“Hey! You’re really something, trying to rob even a crippled old man!” The old man grabbed the bowl, glaring fiercely, lips pursed as if about to call for the authorities.
The youth withdrew his hand, folding it behind his back, and grinned at the old man’s eyes. “That’s a useful prop. Why demean yourself, playing the role of a swindler no better than a beggar?”
“How have I swindled anyone?” The old man’s eyes widened. He sneered, “Ordinary folks like to hear pleasant lies about bright futures. I give them what they want, earn a few coins—mutual agreement. How is that fraud?”
“Well, if that’s the case, what about forcibly stopping us on the street for a free reading? Is that mutual at all?”
The old man narrowed his eyes, thinking for a long time before replying hesitantly, “I truly haven’t deceived you. If you doubt me, let me feel your pulse and tell you your future troubles. How about that?”
“That’s odd—I’ve never heard of reading a person through their pulse.” The youth muttered, but obediently extended his hand.
The “blind” fortune-teller ran his hand from the youth’s fingertips up to his upper arm, making the youth’s hair stand on end. He snapped, “You old pervert, are you into men?”
“Silence!” the old man barked, his face stern. He grew serious, shaking his head and sighing from time to time, making the youth increasingly uneasy.
“Is there… something wrong?” the youth asked, his voice trembling, torn between hope and fear of what the old man might say, even knowing the man was a fraud.
The old man looked a bit sorrowful, gazing into the youth’s rather beautiful eyes. “Promise you won’t get angry and beat me, all right?”
“No matter how poor my fate, I wouldn’t blame it on another. Speak your mind.”
“You’re pregnant, due in seven months. Congratulations in advance!”
The youth was bewildered, quickly feeling between his legs—yes, it was definitely a stick! His confusion made the old man’s wrinkled face burst into laughter, wild and unrestrained, tormenting the youth’s already fragile psyche.
But the laughter died quickly, for the youth, regaining his senses, grabbed a stool and swung it hard at the old man’s wrinkled face.
“Let me give you a proper reading, using my best skills! If you keep hitting, this old body won’t survive!” the fortune-teller pleaded. The youth looked young, but his attacks were ruthless—palms pressed together, aiming straight for the old man’s groin without a hint of hesitation. Such a dirty move!
In that blossoming region, wails of agony rose, drawing a crowd of onlookers.
The youth wiped his hands, regaining his calm and smiling lightly. “I don’t believe a word you say, you old crook. I don’t have the time to waste on you—I need to get back to school. We’ll continue this another day.”
“There is a tree, the phoenix tree, born in the south with blazing fire. When it grows, its shade covers the sun, becoming a forest. Boy, isn’t that your family name?” The old man didn’t pursue him, but tossed out a riddle as he packed his things.
The youth paused, about to leave but hesitated, turning to glare at the fortune-teller. “Did you steal my ID card, old thief?”
“You’re an orphan—surely that isn’t printed on your card?” The old man hummed a tune, relishing the look of shock when a secret is exposed.
The youth lowered his head in silence. It sounded like an insult, but he couldn’t retort, for in his case, it was true.
He really was an orphan, had always been.
“Not only you—the chubby fellow who left earlier is the same. Two unfortunates, dragged together by fate for years, each a burden to the other.”
The fortune-teller removed his sunglasses. His eyes were open, scrutinizing the youth’s face, searching for dejection, or better yet, hysteria at being exposed.
But he was disappointed. The youth remained calm, shrugging as if he was used to it.
“Not in a hurry to leave now? Sit down, let me give you a proper reading.”
The stool was set upright, and the youth sat down, obedient as a child.
The old man stroked his beard and smiled. “You were born for a single purpose—to die.”
The youth pressed his lips together, wanting to retort, but suppressed it, figuring the “blind” fortune-teller had some profound point to make.
“Why is that? Why did this task fall to you?” The old man mused to himself, glancing at the youth. “Maybe because you’re so ugly. If you had even a third of my handsomeness, it wouldn’t be so…”
He trailed off, not for lack of will, but because the youth had raised the stool threateningly again. The old man quickly changed his tone, “That was nonsense, pay it no mind. In these civilized times, we must behave ourselves, act with dignity. No need for violence.”
The youth put the stool down, scowling. “Please, just be direct. I really don’t have much time to waste here.”
“Look at this world—brilliant colors, endless traffic, days passing by, time slipping away. It’s so much better than in my day.” The old man stroked his chin, a little melancholy, as if recalling old times.
Without waiting for a response, he looked up at the blazing sun and made a face, laughing loudly, “But now, people have lost all reverence for heaven and earth. Waves rise, and even a tiny boat dares cross the vast ocean!”
“How admirable—overestimating themselves.” The youth couldn’t help but interject.
The fortune-teller ignored him, gazing northward, smiling and crying all at once, cursing passersby and slapping his own head.
No matter how much he made a scene, no one paid him any mind. Life went on, and even the idle bystanders eventually lost interest and drifted away.
“Look at them—just look! Decay, filth, confusion, all meaningless!” The old man grabbed the youth, making him watch the people on the street, then pointed north and shouted bitterly, “You must return, go back to the wild lands! Shatter this lost civilization, restore the old mountains and rivers from the beginning!”
No one answered. He seemed a clown, desperately seeking attention, lost in his own world.
The old man gathered his sleeves, exhausted from shouting. When his spirit faded, he seemed almost like a normal person.
“You won’t remember, either. Dreams of ages past leave no trace. It’s up to fate—wake up, and move forward…”
Suddenly, the fortune-teller burst into flames—fire igniting from beneath the bridge, climbing toward the sun. The passersby seemed to come alive, pointing and cursing at the old man, until the raging fire consumed the entire scene, burning away the noise and chaos, leaving nothing behind.
……
The youth opened his eyes, jolting upright in bed, drenched in cold sweat—who knows if from the heat or from fear.
“Another dream?” he muttered to himself, shaking his head with a bitter smile as he dressed. Clearly, he was accustomed to such strange happenings.
He pulled out a box of instant noodles from under his bed, fished out the most expired cup at the bottom, and added hot water. With the dorm empty, he devoured it quickly.
After a while, he finished the noodles, staring blankly at the empty bowl.
He wasn’t full but still patted his stomach, pretending to be stuffed, and said to himself, “Better go for a walk and digest—good for my health.”
At night, the campus often saw a solitary figure wandering.
The youth followed the asphalt paths beneath the stars, careful not to look around too much, lest he appear foolish.
He walked alone, while everyone else strolled in pairs.
He pursed his lips, inwardly condemning and protesting the couples occupying public spaces. If anyone objected, he’d… curse and shame them mentally.
“Is it loneliness? I understand how you feel. To be born human—my apologies. The world’s not worth our journey, brother.” Unfortunately, his musings were interrupted as a plump figure hurried toward him from afar.
Adjusting his glasses, the newcomer looked a bit melancholy.
But his appearance was so unrefined, there was no trace of a cultured man in him.
The youth grumbled, “What trouble have you gotten into now, Kuisheng? What brings you here tonight?”
Kuisheng wiped his glasses, looked at the youth seriously, and after a long pause, said, “Lin, haven’t you been following the news lately?”
The youth’s name was Lin Changtian. He thought for a moment, then answered earnestly, “What is it—are the neighbor’s dogs fighting again?”
Kuisheng nearly choked, then shrugged and forced himself to continue, “Lin, haven’t you seen all those bizarre incidents online lately, so many cultivators ascending in plain sight?”
“Nothing to do with me—I haven’t heard about it.” Lin Changtian replied crisply, unwilling to waste time on such things.
“You really are… detached from the world.” Kuisheng shrugged helplessly. They’d grown up together, but their outlooks on life couldn’t be more different.