At Blueleaf County, Blueleaf Market.
A gentle glow of evening spread across the bustling streets as lanterns flickered to life, casting warm halos over the cobblestone paths. Merchants packed up their stalls with practiced motions, and the hum of the market softened into the quieter rhythm of dusk.
At the corner where foot traffic faded, beneath the long shadow of an old banyan tree, stood a small tavern few ever approached. Its wooden plank sign, worn by time and weather, bore the simple words: "Hollow Tavern."
Inside, not a single customer stirred.
The silence was almost tangible.
Behind the counter sat a man in his early thirties. His appearance carried a calm, mature handsomeness—clean features, steady eyes. A small twig rested between his lips as he lounged lazily in his chair, half-watching the dimming light outside as though evening itself were just another passing guest.
This man is Han Xuan, owner of this lonely tavern.
On the counter, beside an empty cup, sat a plump, palm-sized toad mottled with dull green and brown patterns—utterly ordinary at first glance. It blinked slow, lazy eyes, its body rising and falling in a relaxed rhythm.
He tapped the counter with a bored rhythm as the evening deepened. With a tired sigh, he pushed himself up, ready to pack his tools and close for the night.
Just then, the "ordinary" toad let out a soft "gurk."
Not loud, barely a bubble of sound, but it made Han Xuan pause mid-motion.
Before he could glance at it, the bamboo curtain at the entrance rustled softly.
Just then, the bamboo curtain at the entrance rustled softly.
A man of similar age stepped through, pushing the curtain aside with the back of his hand. His hair was unkempt, his clothes dusty from travel, and a long sword hung loosely at his waist. In his right hand, he carried a small gourd that seemed permanently attached to him. The faint scent of wine drifted in with him.
"Brother Han, it's still too early to close." His voice was rough, amused: "Don't tell me you didn't get a customer again?"
Han Xuan gave a half-shrug, half-smile of resignation, "What can I do? Ever since I offended Chen Wuye, no one dares to visit my tavern. Brother Gu, you come here every day... aren't you afraid of inviting trouble?"
Gu Jiuye snorted, a disdainful sneer tugging at his lips, "A mere Chen Wuye? He's not enough to scare me off. Besides, unlike you, tied down with family and business, I'm a free spirit. If he uses the Chen Family's influence to hinder me, then at worst, I'll just move to another market."
Han Xuan shook his head, forcing a small smile, "Brother Gu's life is truly enviable. Unfortunately…. Unlike Brother Gu, who has talent in hunting, you can go anywhere as long as there's land to hunt. All I can do is brew wine. Now, even the suppliers who've worked with me for years have stopped selling me raw materials. I fear I'll have to close down this tavern soon."
Gu Jiuye halted in front of the counter and let out a slow sigh, "That's too bad. Many fellow daoists enjoy your wine. If you close down, they'll be heartbroken."
"Just kidding~" Han Xuan laughed suddenly, waving a hand: "Even though the suppliers are running off, I can still produce raw materials myself. At worst, I can't sell wine in bulk anymore. Just enough for a few customers like you, Brother Gu."
"Hey, that's not nice, joking like that." Gu Jiuye shook his head helplessly, "I was just about to give you a solution to your predicament, but now… never mind. Give me a jug of Hollow Mist Brew."
Han Xuan chuckled.
He slipped into the back warehouse, the wooden door creaking softly, and after a short moment returned with a freshly sealed jug of wine cradled in his hands.
Gu Jiuye casually placed five spirit coins on the counter, the metal pieces clinking softly in the quiet tavern.
Before Han Xuan could even reach for them, the little toad on the table hopped forward. Its throat bobbed once—fwip!—and its tongue shot out, snatching all five coins in a single motion. They vanished straight into its round belly.
Gu Jiuye didn't even flinch.
With an amused look, he leaned closer, arms crossed, "Brother Han, your spirit beast keeps eating your spirit coins every day. Can you still afford to feed your family at this rate?"
Han Xuan rolled his eyes as if this were the most normal thing in the world.
"My Baobao is just storing them, not digesting them. Don't worry, I can still afford to keep my family filled." He passed the wine jug over the counter, "Anyway, what kind of solution were you talking about earlier?"
Gu Jiuye took the jug, uncorked it, and sniffed the aroma with a satisfied hum. Only then did he speak, "I'm not sure if it's a real solution, but it's worth trying. Brother Han, have you heard of the Hundred Sects Recruitment?"
"Hundred Sects Recruitment?" Han Xuan raised a brow.
Of course, he had.
It was the grandest event in all of Azurewood Province—once every five years, all major and minor sects gathered to recruit disciples, giving countless youths a chance to ascend the path of cultivation.
"Brother Gu, are you asking me to participate? I heard the age requirements are strict…" Han Xuan said, doubtful.
Gu Jiuye almost choked on his wine.
"Of course you can't, Brother Han! But your son can." He jabbed a finger at him, "He's ten this year, right? Perfect age. As long as he gets accepted into a sect, the Chen Family wouldn't dare to bother you again."
"This…" Han Xuan hesitated, "My son isn't very talented, and his cultivation is still low. Will he even be able to join?"
Gu Jiuye's mouth twitched as if resisting the urge to knock some sense into him.
"Can't you be a little more optimistic about your own son? His talent is already better than yours. Maybe he'll be lucky. Maybe he'll get chosen. And besides—look at your situation." He pointed around at the empty tavern, "If he stays here, he'll be trapped. But if he joins a sect, he'll have a future. Or… do you really want him to inherit this tiny wine tavern?"
Han Xuan clicked his tongue unhappily, "What's wrong with my wine tavern?"
But even as he said it, his gaze softened, and his thoughts drifted.
Gu Jiuye wasn't wrong.
Keeping his son here would only limit him. Sending him to a sect… that could change everything.
And, deep in his heart, Han Xuan couldn't help but think of the other benefit—The more achievements his son achieves, the more rewards he will receive from the system.
The tavern grew quiet again as the two men talked, the evening deepening outside. Eventually, Gu Jiuye finished his wine and headed toward the curtain, waving lazily before stepping out into the street.
Han Xuan watched his friend disappear into the lantern-lit path. He exhaled slowly, closing the shop with a soft click of the wooden latch.
Baobao hopped onto his shoulder, blending seamlessly with the dim evening light.
Together, man and toad stepped out of the Hollow Tavern and into the cooling night air.
Han Xuan lifted his gaze to the sky.
Night had already settled in fully, the last traces of dusk swallowed by the deep-blue canopy overhead. The lanterns along the streets flickered gently, but the rest of the world had quieted.
"…It's already this late," He murmured.
It might be too late for introductions...
He, Han Xuan… was actually a reborner.
A soul from another world.
He had died in a car accident in his previous life—nothing glorious, nothing dramatic. Just a sudden impact, a flash of pain, and darkness. When he opened his eyes again, he was an infant in this cultivation world.
His birth mother, a mortal woman with frail health, died during childbirth. His father was a cultivator at the Sixth Stage of Qi Refining, but his body had long been damaged from severe injuries sustained in his youth. By the time Han Xuan was fourteen, those hidden wounds had deteriorated beyond repair.
Despite carrying the memories of two lives, Han Xuan could do nothing.
He remembered with painful clarity how he watched his father's condition worsen day by day—the coughs that grew heavier, the spiritual energy in his body thinning like mist under sunlight. He could do nothing except sit beside him, holding his hand, as the man who had raised him slipped away.
When his father finally passed, Han Xuan had cried silently for hours. Not as a reborn adult with two lifetimes of memories, but as a son losing his only family.
After that, the Hollow Tavern became his.
He inherited not only the building, but also his father's legacy: the path of a wine brewer.
Through his brewing skills, he managed to earn enough spirit coins to support a basic cultivation rhythm. But the truth was cruel. His spiritual root—his innate cultivation potential was Rank 1.
The lowest of the nine ranks.
Because of this, no matter how steadily he cultivated, no matter how many spirit coins he spent on low-grade pills, his progress stalled. His cultivation remained stuck at the Third Stage of Qi Refining, unable to advance even a single step further.
He knew the reason, and he accepted it.
Spiritual Root determined everything. Rank 1 meant a lifetime of mediocrity.
Han Xuan had regretted it, of course. He was human, after all. But he was also realistic. If his journey forward was blocked, then he would build something else.
So he chose marriage.
And he eventually married a pair of sisters and lived a simple life.
Then, just when he expected his life to settle into quiet peace…
The moment one of his wives became pregnant, something long-awaited finally awakened.
A system—the golden finger he never received after transmigration has finally appeared.