The gate of the Cave Mansion is tightly closed.
The heavy green jade doors flow with restrained spirit light, separating the two worlds inside and outside.
In front of the Cave Mansion is a small platform carved from a solid piece of mountain rock, smooth and flat.
It was late at night.
The cold moonlight shone down, casting a greenish luster on the stone platform, like a frozen cold pool.
At the edge of the platform is an abyss that seems bottomless.
The wind whistles like a sob.
Chen San stands in the center of the platform, not daring to get too close to the gate, fearing it might displease the owner of the Cave Mansion.
Under the moonlight, he seems as if submerged in a cold pool.
At this moment, his lean body is taut and straight, yet habitually slightly hunched, head lowered, like a statue frozen in the shadows.
The flying message he sent has penetrated the door and disappeared without a trace. Chen San doesn’t know if a cultivator inside the Cave Mansion received his message.
The night wind, carrying the chill of the mountaintop, spiraled up from the abyss, causing the exposed skin on his neck to break out in goosebumps.
The coldness seeped into his bones, yet he felt nothing.
Every temporary lull in the wind’s sound made him consciously hold his breath, straining to catch any sound possibly emanating from within the door—footsteps, a soft cough, even the faint hum of spiritual energy circulation.
However, what he receives is only deeper silence.
The door of the Cave Mansion before him resembles a cold, indifferent mouth, swallowing all of his expectations.
"Then wait till daylight, to show sincerity," he sighs inwardly, as his hands and feet gradually grow cold, and his gaze, no longer fixed on the door, begins to drift.
On the cliff beside the Cave Mansion, he sees a cluster of extremely resilient vines wedged into a crack in the rock.
The dark brown roots twist ruggedly, clinging to the scant damp soil in the rock crevice. Most of the vine is crushed beneath a massive, viciously jagged boulder, forcing a few thin tendrils to painfully struggle out from the crevice’s edge and base, twisting upward.
A few sparse moonlight beams fall stingily, just enough to illuminate the tip of one tendril. At its end are two new tender leaves, not yet fully unfurled, exuding an almost humble vitality in the moonlight.
Chen San’s gaze gradually fixes on these two green leaves, and past skills surface in his mind.
In the mine, his young, humble body was like a mouse curling up in a dark corner.
Only a beam of sunlight shone from the hole above.
Chen San was not born into a cultivation family, nor even an ordinary household. He was the illegitimate child of a mining slave, growing up in the spirit stone mine.
In the mines, old miners clandestinely learned many fragmentary and rudimentary breathing techniques and coarse methods to enhance strength and endurance to survive a few more days in harsh conditions.
Chen San, like a dried sponge, greedily absorbed these "junk" teachings, secretly growing.
The brutal survival environment made him keenly aware of changes around him from a young age, able to exploit every resource to its fullest rational understanding, and desperate to the point of risking his life for a piece of ore containing faint spiritual energy!
On his deathbed, his father pointed to a sunlit hole and said, "Kid, you’re unlucky being my child. I am a mining slave, and so are you."
"I have a low-grade spirit root, and so do you."
"Heh, it’s useless. Our entire lives, even if we reach the Qi Refinement Realm, at best, we can only become Foundation Establishment level."
"Do you see that vine?"
"Learn from it!"
"On our own, we can only be at the bottom level among cultivators. But if we can latch onto a certain power, or organization, we might reach heights we otherwise couldn’t in this life."
"Just like that fat fool of an overseer. His cultivation level is utterly lacking, yet he’s a distant relative of Manager Zhang. So, he becomes an overseer!"
"Did you hear that, kid!"
Chen San grits his teeth, with eyes red, staring at those dark green vines, lowering his voice to growl, "I heard you, dad!"
The world is vast, with myriad birds.
Among countless cultivators, there are those at the top levels, naturally middle levels, and bottom levels as well.
Chen San has no innate talent, with abysmally low cultivation aptitude, nor any cultivation resources.
He is like the vine, like the leaves, straining with all his might to grow upward, reaching for the towering, imposing cliff face.
But the cliff is too high, too steep, too hard. The vine tip touches in vain, like a pilgrim stretching trembling fingers, yet never truly able to cling to it.
Chen San hasn’t lacked attempts to attach himself to powerful figures.
He once presented a meticulously drawn treasure map to Manager Zhao. Manager Zhao threw the map to the ground, stomping on it with his boot. The ear-piercing ridicule and unrestrained laughter around him stabbed into Chen San’s eardrums like needles.
He also crafted a mechanical flying bird, capable for night inspections, offering it to Captain Wang of the City Guard Army as a means to rise. In the end, the mechanical bird became evidence against him. Captain Wang used it to falsely accuse Chen San of a major crime. Incarcerated odors, the excruciating pain of lashes, and coerced confessions followed.
Fortuitously, he once managed to save a young master of a family. Ultimately, holding a light bag of low-grade spirit stones, he stood outside the grand vermilion door. From within, he vaguely heard Young Master Lin’s voice of disgust: "What bad luck..." The housekeeper’s gaze towards Chen San was cold, full of condescension, as if looking at a stray dog begging by the roadside.
He even spent nearly all his fortune at an auction, buying a treasure to present in public to a young noble. The young noble gently brushed aside the magic artifact Chen San offered, like waving away a buzzing fly. Looking down at Chen San, his face was filled with undisguised disdain: "What are you? Even worthy of presenting gifts to me? Unfortunately, this treasure, having passed through your hands, is tainted."