Above the nearly-collapsing mountain gate hung a crooked, broken wooden plaque. After years of wind and rain, the plaque had long since lost its paint and turned white, but three characters could still be vaguely made out: 清虚宫.

Samuel Bennett stood there in a daze for quite a while. Although he had mentally prepared himself after seeing the old Daoist’s robe, which was even more tattered than a beggar’s clothes, the dilapidated temple before him still left him stunned.

“Hurry up and come in!”

The old Daoist shot him a dissatisfied glare and said, “What did you expect this place to be, the Daming Palace?”

Samuel Bennett had no choice but to follow the old Daoist into the temple. Inside was a courtyard of about fifty or sixty square meters, where several Daoists were chopping wood and carrying water.

When they saw the old Daoist enter, the Daoists all gathered around, smiling, “Master is back!”

There were four Daoists in total, some middle-aged, some young, but apparently no Daoist children.

Samuel Bennett already knew the old Daoist was called Edward Wood. Although he had joined under his tutelage, he could not formally become his disciple yet. For now, he was just a little Daoist child; only after turning eighteen and being ordained as a Daoist could he officially take Edward Wood as his master.

Of course, he could still address Edward Wood as Master, since he was already a disciple of Qingxu Temple.

A young Daoist jumped in front of Samuel Bennett, looked him up and down, and grinned, “Master, is this the little junior brother you found? He’s so skinny!”

“Samuel Bennett, let me introduce you. These are your four senior brothers: the oldest is called Charles Clark, the fattest is Robert Clark, the tallest is Olivia Clark, and the one who looks like a monkey is Ethan Clark. You’ll still be called Samuel Bennett for now, but after you turn eighteen, your Daoist name will be Emily Clark.”

Edward Wood continued, “It’s a bit late today. Charles Clark, take Samuel Bennett to eat and rest first. We’ll arrange his chores tomorrow.”

“Yes, Master.”

Charles Clark bowed and said to Samuel Bennett, “Little junior brother, come with me!”

Samuel Bennett bowed to Edward Wood and his senior brothers, then followed Charles Clark toward a mud hut on the far left.

Charles Clark had a bitter-melon face, rough skin, and thick black eyebrows that drooped downward, giving him a perpetually worried look. He was probably at most thirty-five or thirty-six, but his naturally old appearance made him seem nearly fifty.

Charles Clark was of average build and moved a bit slowly. He led Samuel Bennett into the kitchen, which was blackened by smoke. On a clay stove sat a battered iron pot, and on the counter were more than a dozen large, chipped porcelain bowls.

Charles Clark lifted the lid, scooped out a bowl of blackish mush from the pot, and handed it to Samuel Bennett, “Eat up! It’s all mountain fare. We rarely have grain here.”

This time, Samuel Bennett was truly starving. He took the bowl and wolfed it down. It was actually not bad—a porridge made from yam, bracken root, and dried mushrooms—just too bland, with almost no salt.

Charles Clark scooped another bowl to bring to Master.

After dinner, the eldest senior brother took Samuel Bennett to the sleeping quarters. All the brothers slept together, and fourth senior brother Ethan Clark had already set up a small bed for him, made from wooden planks and covered with a thick layer of dry grass, with a deerskin for a blanket.

“Little junior brother, where are you from?” Ethan Clark asked with a grin.

Samuel Bennett really liked this warm-hearted fourth senior brother. He scratched his head and said, “I’m from Lingzhou.”

“Lingzhou is a great place! Lots of melons and fruits there—I love eating fruit.”

“Fourth senior brother, where are you from?” Samuel Bennett asked in return.

“Me? I’m from Bashu, my hometown is Yizhou. Master picked me up when he was traveling in Qingcheng Mountain. I just got ordained and became a disciple last month.”

“You’re a Sichuanese!” Samuel Bennett suddenly blurted out in Sichuan dialect.

Ethan Clark burst out laughing, “I haven’t spoken Bashu dialect in ages.”

He patted Samuel Bennett on the shoulder, “Get a good night’s sleep. Whatever you need, we’ll talk about it tomorrow!”

After Ethan Clark left, Samuel Bennett lay in the warm dry grass. Though he was utterly exhausted, his whole body ached so much that he couldn’t fall asleep.

At that moment, he faintly heard low voices outside the room.

“Second brother, why do you think Master brought in such a skinny child? Isn’t that just adding to our burden?”

“Master has his reasons. Besides, what’s wrong with being skinny? With Master here, in at most half a year, he’ll be nursed into being as strong as a leopard.”

“Master said he’d bring back the most gifted disciple. Do you think this kid has potential?”

“Can’t tell yet, but with Master’s eye, I bet this child has some special talent.”

As his two senior brothers discussed, Samuel Bennett couldn’t resist the wave of sleepiness and finally drifted off in a daze.

……

The next morning, before dawn, Samuel Bennett suddenly opened his eyes. This was a survival instinct he’d developed over the past three years—if he slept in and didn’t rush to the dining hall, he’d go hungry all day.

Samuel Bennett cursed inwardly and sat up at once. The gray dawn filtered in above the door. No longer in the great hall where hundreds slept together, he finally remembered he was no longer at the Reception Hall.

Samuel Bennett let out a long sigh of relief and buried his head in the deerskin. Suddenly, he seemed to think of something and turned to look at his senior brothers—then froze.

He saw all four of his senior brothers sitting cross-legged on their beds, hands gently resting on their lower abdomens, backs perfectly straight, breathing in a strange rhythm—sometimes fast, sometimes slow, sometimes long and winding, sometimes so rapid it seemed about to explode. Their chests rose and fell violently.

What were they doing?