Zhou Shu’s story was a mess of fragmented memories.

  "When Elder Zhang came to our village, everyone went to greet him. He wore cyan robes, just like the teacher at our school, and he smelled so good... like incense."

  "He said he would take the adults to a place of joy where they’d never go hungry again. Then, he gathered them all at the threshing floor. He asked them if they wanted hundred-acre fields and gold. Then... a black banner sucked them all inside."

  The buzzing of the wasps in the canopy dimmed. Gensheng didn't interrupt.

  "He told us children that our parents had gone to enjoy their blessings. He said I had spiritual roots and could become an immortal."

  After a long silence, Gensheng spoke. "The one he took as a disciple today—is it someone from your village?"

  The girl nodded blankly.

  "Then remember that person's face. When you meet, kill them."

  Gensheng pulled a copy of the Qi-Drawing Manual from his ring and dropped it at her feet. "If you kill them within half a year, without leaving a trace, I will teach you real power. If you fail, go back to being a mortal. Your life and death will have nothing to do with me."

  The Spirit Herb Garden returned to its usual rhythm. Gensheng taught, cultivated, and bred his insects. He never looked for Zhou Shu, nor did he ask about her.

  This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

  Rumors occasionally floated through the sect. Elder Wang’s disciple was a beast-taming genius; Elder Li’s student had already reached the second level of Qi Condensation. Only Elder Zhang’s disciple remained unremarkable—a quiet boy who kept to himself.

  Three months passed.

  One afternoon, Gensheng ran into the goateed Elder Wang outside the lecture hall.

  "Elder Chen! My boy has reached the third level of Qi Condensation. He’s sure to place in the sect competition this month," Wang gloated, stroking his beard. "And how is your protégé doing? We should have them spar sometime."

  Gensheng gave him a flat look and said nothing.

  Suddenly, a disciple sprinted toward them, face pale with fright. "Elder Wang! Elder Chen! Something terrible has happened! Elder Zhang’s disciple... is dead!"

  When they reached the scene, Zhang Cuizhan was already there. He stood in the center of the room, cradling a scroll, calmly critiquing the craftsmanship of the window carvings as if he were at an art gallery.

  The body lay on a prayer mat. It was an honest-looking lad, eyes closed, looking as if he had simply fallen asleep during meditation.

  "Strange. His soul is extinguished, yet his body is pristine," Elder Wang muttered after an inspection.

  Zhang Cuizhan let out a soft laugh. "Elder Wang has a sharp eye. The boy was too impatient; his Qi deviated during meditation and shattered his own soul. His foundation was too weak. One cannot blame others for such things."

  Gensheng’s divine sense swept the room. Zhang was technically correct. But a first-level Qi Condensation brat didn't have enough spiritual energy to kill himself like that—unless someone had given his Qi a subtle, lethal "push" at the exact moment of transition.

  Three months. She was twice as fast as he had predicted.

  "What a pity," Wang sighed. "He seemed like a good sprout."

  "The path of cultivation is full of variables," Zhang replied, tucking his scroll away. "Take him to the back mountain and find a place to bury him. Let’s not disturb the others."

  He walked away without a second glance at the corpse.

  Gensheng turned back toward his garden. Wang followed, whispering, "Elder Chen, isn't this eerie? That Zhang... he didn't even blink. Cold-blooded, that one."

  Gensheng said nothing. Cold-blooded? No, he's just another scavenger.