Chapter Four: Entering the World to Cultivate

“Fan, come sit down. We have some matters to entrust to you,” Shennong said, pulling Liu Fan to sit beside him as well. He continued, “Now that you have attained immortality, your heart is still unsettled. You must temper yourself in the mortal world. The three of us are but fragments of the true self’s divine consciousness. Now that our mission is complete, it is time for us to return. The path ahead is yours to walk alone. Remember: never bring harm to humankind. Do much good, accumulate virtue, and protect the people of Huaxia. We have left behind all our life’s insights and treasured artifacts within this house. Study them well, and may you achieve the great Dao soon.”

“Are you leaving, Masters? I cannot bear to part with you,” Liu Fan said, his eyes brimming with tears, his voice choked with emotion.

“Silly child, all good things must end. Cultivate well, and we shall meet again someday,” Fuxi said kindly, stepping forward and patting Liu Fan’s shoulder with fatherly affection.

“Hmph! A man’s ambition should be boundless! If you are so weak, how can you shoulder the responsibility of protecting our people? Do not act like a woman,” said Emperor Xuanyuan, ever the resolute and unyielding emperor of a hundred battles. Even now, he displayed only his tough side, but from the redness in his eyes, Liu Fan could see the deep care he felt.

“Yes, I will obey my masters’ teachings,” Liu Fan replied, restraining his sorrow, kneeling respectfully before them.

“Take care, Fan. We must go now—” With a flash of light, the three vanished.

“Masters—” Liu Fan called out as tears streamed down his face. After hundreds of years together, even though much of it was spent in cultivation, the love and concern in their words had always warmed his heart. Save for his grandfather, they were the best people to him. The pain of parting weighed heavily on him, leaving him unable to let go.

He did not know how long he knelt before, at last, his grief subsided. Rising, Liu Fan walked into the inner room of the thatched cottage. There, in the corner, lay a desk piled with jade slips. “These are what my masters left me. I must study them diligently so that I may see them again soon.”

With this thought, Liu Fan’s resolve on the path of cultivation became even stronger. He sat cross-legged on a cushion before the desk, and with his divine sense began to read the jade slips. What he discovered astonished him—there was the “Classic of Mountains and Seas,” recording all the creatures of prehistory; medical tomes such as “Fuxi’s Book of Talismanic Medicine,” “Shennong’s Herbal Canon,” and “The Inner Canon of the Yellow Emperor,” all written by the three themselves—not the diluted versions circulating in the later world, and requiring a certain level of cultivation to employ. There was the “Azure Lotus Sword Manual,” reputedly the creation of the first sword immortal, Azure Lotus Lord, and thus exceedingly powerful. There was also “Fuxi’s Book of Divinations,” which contained the divination methods Fuxi developed upon attaining the Dao.

So many cultivation classics filled in all the gaps in Liu Fan’s knowledge. Otherwise, if he ever took disciples, and didn’t even know the basics of cultivation, how humiliating would that be? It would be like those modern university students who are smart but lack practical skills. Fortunately, Liu Fan was no longer what he used to be. With his advanced cultivation, he memorized all the jade slips in no time. He had the theory; now he needed practice.

After organizing the methods from the jade slips, Liu Fan turned to the treasure room. Only then did he realize how many immortal weapons and treasures were displayed in dazzling array. His eyes sparkled with greed, and drool nearly escaped his lips. However, when he tried to pick up the first sword, he found to his dismay that it would not budge, no matter how much strength he used. Upon closer inspection, he discovered that the sword had been sealed by a powerful force. With his current cultivation, he could only accept this fact.

Yet, with so many treasures before him, Liu Fan’s tenacious nature would not let him give up. He tried them one by one, and at last, his perseverance paid off—he found three unsealed lower-grade immortal artifacts: an Eight-Treasure Immortal Garment, woven from Yunmeng silk, with formidable defenses and the ability to shift forms at will; a Purple-Gold Immortal Sword, forged from Supreme Iron in the Blazing Heaven Fire, containing the sharp essence of the Five Elements and the fierce qi of that fire—unyieldingly strong, able to cut through anything and burn all things; and a set of Yin-Yang Five Elements Needles, eighty-one needles of various materials and lengths, which, when used with immortal qi, could revive the dead and regrow flesh and bone.

With these three artifacts, Liu Fan felt he finally had some family property, and was overjoyed. He immediately sat down and began the blood-bond ritual to refine them. In truth, he did not yet realize that since the Hetu and Luoshu had already acknowledged him as master, everything within their space would eventually belong to him anyway. Truly, the mindset of a small farmer can be limiting.

Soon, Liu Fan had refined the three artifacts. He then tested the Yin-Yang Five Elements Needles with the medical arts he’d learned, finding his mastery of the techniques grew smooth and intuitive. Afterward, he went to the front yard of the cottage, summoned the Purple-Gold Immortal Sword, and, channeling immortal qi through his whole body, leapt onto the sword. With a swish, both sword and rider vanished. Liu Fan reveled in the thrill of sword flight. With his current cultivation, he could fly unaided, but he felt that riding a sword was simply more stylish.

After flying for some time, Liu Fan realized just how vast the space within the Hetu and Luoshu was. Extending his divine sense, he sensed the incredible diversity of species, the abundance of herbs, forests, and herds of animals—many of which did not exist on Earth. Yet none of the creatures showed any sign of cultivation, despite the immense concentration of spiritual energy here. Clearly, the beings of this world could not absorb spiritual energy for cultivation.

After flying a while longer, Liu Fan decided it was time to return home. He went back to the cottage, tidied up, and transformed the Eight-Treasure Immortal Garment into a set of gray-and-white sportswear and a pair of red-and-black sneakers. Thus attired, Liu Fan resembled a handsome boy from the neighborhood. After changing, he formed a hand seal, focused his mind, and in an instant appeared once more in the Hall of the Three Sovereigns, at the spot where he had first fallen down the slope.

Everything before him seemed like a dream, but the powerful immortal qi within his body assured him it was all real. He looked at the Hetu and Luoshu still in his hand, and with a single thought, the artifact faded into his brow.

Then, kneeling solemnly before the statues of the Three Sovereigns, Liu Fan performed three bows. “Honored Masters, I, Liu Fan, will certainly obey your teachings, cultivate diligently, accumulate virtue, and never fail you.” Afterward, he went outside the temple and laid down an array to prevent outsiders from entering and damaging the hall. Only then did Liu Fan feel at ease to return home.

“Haha—Liu Fan is back!” His bold laughter startled all the birds and beasts of Jade Emperor Mountain. If Liu Fan understood the language of animals, he would have heard them grumbling, “Who is this guy—raising such a ruckus at dawn? No sense of virtue at all!”

“Crazy, isn’t he? Young people these days have no manners, no sense of propriety—no wonder they’re called the lost generation.” One wonders if our Immortal Liu would spit blood if he heard such words.

Liu Fan then concealed himself and flew home, reappearing at the entrance to Liu Family Village. Finding a secluded spot, he resumed his bodily form and walked toward his house. But trouble soon followed. The current Liu Fan was no longer that scrappy youth—his striking looks and the faint aura of the Eight-Treasure Garment drew the gaze of everyone in the village, especially the young women and married ladies, who stared at him with open admiration. Liu Fan felt awkward, his face flushing repeatedly. Knowing he was among his own people, he could only grit his teeth and hurry along.

As soon as he entered the courtyard, he saw a middle-aged woman sweeping. “Young man, who are you looking for?” she asked, setting down the broom as she noticed the handsome youth at the gate.

“Godmother—I’m back. It’s me, Fan!” Liu Fan’s voice trembled. Facing the woman before him, he felt a surge of emotion. To Liu Fan, it had been centuries since he’d last seen his godmother Lin Guifang. Orphaned from birth, Liu Fan had been raised by his grandfather Liu Fugui, and Lin Guifang, their neighbor, had been the one to give him a mother’s love. She had cared for him many times when Old Doctor Liu was out, and over the years, Liu Fan came to call her godmother. Lin Guifang had only a daughter, Liu Yuting, sixteen years old. Her husband had died in a car accident years ago, making theirs a family marked by hardship.

“Fan? Is that really you? Where have you been for over a month? Do you know how worried Yuting and I have been? Thank heaven, you’re back now.” Recognizing him at last, Lin Guifang was overcome with emotion. The worry of the past month finally lifted, and she wept with joy.

“Godmother, please don’t get too excited. Let’s go inside and sit down, and I’ll explain everything.” Seeing Lin Guifang so agitated, Liu Fan quickly helped her inside, poured her some water, and let her calm herself.

“Godmother, here’s what happened. I was about to start college, and I wanted to find a job over the summer to earn tuition. A friend helped me find work, and things happened so quickly I didn’t have time to tell you. That was my mistake, and I promise it won’t happen again.” Of course, he couldn’t tell her about his immortal cultivation; Fuxi and the others had warned him not to reveal his true identity to ordinary people. So Liu Fan could only fabricate a story.

“In the future, don’t make your godmother worry. You don’t know how many times Yuting cried over you,” Lin Guifang said, her heart finally at ease after his explanation.

“Thank you, godmother. I’m sorry for making you worry.” Hearing this, Liu Fan thought of the girl who’d always followed him, and a gentle smile appeared on his face.

“Mother, mother—is Brother Fan really back?” Hearing the commotion, Liu Yuting hurried over, having spent the past month in constant worry.