Volume One: Unprecedented

Chapter One: Ten Years

　　Caleb Whitman, Miao not to befriend, on Wuyaling you cannot die.

　　A ballad passed down for a thousand years, singing of the three powers in the world that must never be provoked.

　　The The Whitman Family of Jiuding Mountain in western Sichuan is skilled in poison. It is said that even their chili sauce is made with deadly poison, and the methods the The Whitman Family use to administer poison are even more unimaginable. During the Ming Dynasty, a gang of notorious bandits who dared to rob imperial convoys accidentally provoked the The Whitman Family. As a result, the entire mountain stronghold perished, not only did everyone die an unnatural death, but even the wild grass and trees withered overnight. For the next ten years, the mountain was barren, and from then on, the The Whitman Family of Jiuding Mountain earned the infamous name Caleb Whitman.

　　At the foot of Qiniang Mountain in Shu, there is a clan of the Miao people, skilled in witchcraft and demon worship, eccentric and reclusive, with a clear sense of vengeance and never letting a grudge go. Travelers passing through must be careful not to interact with these Miao people, or they might unknowingly leave behind a strand of hair or a fingernail, and years later, their family would be ruined without ever knowing which word or action offended them.

　　The Luo family of Wuyaling in southern Sichuan is adept at corpse manipulation. Those who make enemies with Wuyaling, of course, are not truly undying, but after death, even their bones will not be spared, taken to be used as puppets, never to find peace for a thousand years, let alone reincarnate—only to exist as the living dead.

　　These three forces, hidden in the land of Shu, have always acted independently, not considered part of the martial world, nor do they care about the struggle between good and evil. They rarely provoke others, and naturally, other powers are unwilling to offend them.

　　Time passes, and a thousand years go by in the blink of an eye.

　　The three families have been passed down to this day, gradually integrating into the world, but fewer and fewer people remember the ballad: 'Caleb Whitman, Miao not to befriend, on Wuyaling you cannot die.'

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　　In the warm spring of March, grass grows and orioles fly, the gentle breeze is pleasant, and red apricot blossoms peek over the wall.

　　Starting from March 19th, the usually quiet Whitman Village of Jiuding Mountain in western Sichuan suddenly became lively. The once-in-a-decade The Whitman Family grand examination was about to begin, and all direct descendants who were away had rushed back.

　　To outsiders, this is just a remote village deep in the mountains, but who would know that this small village had, a thousand years ago, become famous for its poison, feared by both good and evil alike, Caleb Whitman.

　　Logan Whitman is a pure-hearted youth, chewing on a carrot as he climbs the mountain. He is also a direct descendant of Caleb Whitman, sixteen years old, currently studying in the county town, and now hurrying back to the mountains. He looks like a simple village boy, a bit thin and not particularly handsome, but exudes honesty and sincerity, with nothing special about him except for his bright, genuine eyes.

　　All kinds of vehicles were parked at the entrance of the village—large trucks, small vans, sedans, and even a tricycle. No one knew which tough descendant of 'Caleb Whitman' had managed to ride it up the mountain.

　　Several elders of Whitman Village stood at the entrance, laughing heartily. All unmarried The Whitman Family descendants returning home, regardless of age or gender, were given red envelopes. Instead of RMB, the envelopes contained a stack of thin gold leaves, heavy and satisfying to the touch.

　　As soon as Logan Whitman entered the village, he was immediately surrounded by his younger siblings. With a magician's flourish, he pulled out a huge bag of candy from his backpack. These snacks weren't expensive, but in this remote mountain village, they were a rare treat. Every time Logan Whitman came home, he would remember to bring a big pile for his siblings.

　　Watching his younger siblings cheer and jump for joy, Logan Whitman grinned happily, showing a mouthful of neat, white teeth. He pulled a carrot from his pocket and stuffed it into his mouth—his one lifelong habit: carrots.

　　A few elders exchanged knowing smiles. Among all the youngsters who had left the village, only Logan Whitman had such thoughtfulness, always thinking of the children at home.

　　The younger generation of the The Whitman Family now work even harder than their ancestors. Besides soaking medicinal wine and practicing martial arts, they also have to go to school in the county town. After all, it's the age of technology, and the The Whitman Family has quietly integrated into society, doing all kinds of work. Logan Whitman has an uncle named Harold Whitman who even became the county magistrate, but was later dismissed because he had too many mothers-in-law. Now he devotes himself to making medicine with the great-grandfather on the mountain.

　　For the next seven days, every night, Whitman Village held grand banquets. The whole clan drank and laughed together, eating fried eggs and stewed lamb every day, so much that everyone, young and old, ended up with nosebleeds.

　　On the eighth day, March 26th.

　　As the first rays of dawn tinged the clouds red, a distant, lingering bell slowly drifted into everyone's ears. The peaceful mountain village instantly awakened. All descendants of the The Whitman Family, young and old, wore solemn expressions, but their eyes could not hide their joy and excitement. Silently, they gathered together, and hundreds of people marched in a grand procession toward the bluestone terrace behind the village.