In the Mo Family ancestral hall, Clan Head Mo Shi led Mo Tian, Mo Xuan, and the other core members of the family. With solemn faces, they prayed:
"Honored ancestors above, your descendant Mo Shi leads the clan in worship. May our forebears bless the Mo family with flourishing descendants and lasting prosperity…"
The ancestral hall had five tiers, built according to the rule: "For mortals—three; for immortals—five; for earth immortals—seven; for heavenly immortals—nine."Simply put: ordinary mortals may worship three generations, an ordinary immortal family may worship five, an earth-immortal family may worship seven, and a heavenly-immortal family may worship nine.
At the highest tier of the altar stood two spirit tablets made of fine pine and cypress. They were lacquered red, their names written in gold, and the tablets were edged with cloud motifs—this was the Mo family's sacred shrine.
Below them, rows upon rows of ancestral tablets were arranged by generation into four layers. These, too, were pine and cypress, but without red lacquer or cloud motifs, and the names were written in ink.
The small ancestral hall could not hold everyone, so many clan members stood outside in the courtyard—men in front, women and children behind—filling the space to bursting.
Even the youngest children, infected by the solemn atmosphere, didn't dare act up and stood properly in place.
After the prayer, Mo Shi took three sticks of incense, lit them from the candles, bowed three times with sincere devotion, and placed the incense in the burner. Then, by seniority, the Mo family members stepped forward in groups to offer incense and perform ritual bows to the ancestors.
Mo Xuan bowed three times with genuine reverence, offered his incense, and stepped back beside Mo Shi. He activated his spirit sight and looked.
He saw that the two tablets at the highest tier were surrounded by a faint reddish spiritual glow, while the many tablets in the four layers below emitted threads of white spiritual light, weaving together into a single mass. Altogether, they formed a pale red, cloud-like aura that hung over the ancestral hall.
Ordinary people could not see any of this.
But Mo Xuan knew: this was the spiritual radiance of ancestral worship, nourishing the ancestors, and the gathered fortune and destiny in turn sheltered the descendants.
This was not superstition.
The three Dao Lords of Qingyuan Minor Immortal Realm had established the Netherworld. After death, souls could enter it. Generally, even a tongsheng (licensed scholar) could retain their living awareness and accept the family's incense offerings, preserving their consciousness from dispersing.
Those two sacred tablets at the top belonged to two tongsheng ancestors of the Mo family. Nourished by incense, their reddish glow grew stronger—within it, a faint hint of gold appeared. Incense offered by an immortal was not something ordinary.
Within the drifting smoke, two vague figures could be seen gazing down at the Mo clan. They even nodded to Mo Xuan with gentle smiles.
Mo Xuan returned the gesture with a faint smile and a small nod.
Before long, Mo Que'er stepped forward—first among the great-grandchildren—to offer incense. She clearly looked exhausted. These past days, she had lived in constant anxiety, fearing this and worrying about that. Mo Xuan had remained unreadable, never calling her in for questioning or conversation. And at night… her parents' "noise" was rarely small—how could she possibly sleep soundly?
Mo Xuan glanced at Que'er and remained expressionless.
This little girl still needs a proper lesson. No rush.
Mo Shi watched the clan with deep satisfaction. After taking Mo Xuan's spirit medicines, in less than three days he had already abandoned his wheelchair. Now he barely needed even a cane. His white hair had begun showing signs of turning black again.
And this was without yet taking the rejuvenation pill.
Mo Shi couldn't help thinking: If Heaven wants to take me now, it will first have to ask my Mo Xuan.
It wasn't just Mo Shi. Many elderly clan members had visibly grown younger. The most dramatic change was Mo Xuan's older brother, Mo Zhu. His white hair had turned black, his complexion glowed, and not a single wrinkle remained. He looked only forty or so.
Mo Zhu was robust to begin with. With Mo Xuan's help, he had been the first to take the Rejuvenation Pill. The medicine hadn't fully been absorbed yet—he could still grow younger.
"Rejuvenation" didn't mean returning all the way to childhood, but it absolutely did restore youth. For ordinary mortals, the Rejuvenation Pill was the number one immortal elixir, the dream of countless people.
This time, Mo Xuan had obtained ten Rejuvenation Pills—eight exchanged from Uncle-Master Luo Yu for meteor cores, and two purchased from Tai Academy using points.
Truthfully, Tai Academy's pills were outrageously expensive. Next time, Mo Xuan planned to exchange more from Luo Yu. Even these ten pills weren't enough—he could only prioritize those closest to him, those most urgently in need. The rest could wait until the next exchange.
"Incense offering is complete—clan members, kneel and bow!"
Mo Shi's order was carried outward. Inside the hall and out in the courtyard, the Mo clan knelt together and knocked their heads four times in solemn worship.
Mo Xuan looked up. The ancestral hall was filled with a mist of red and white spiritual light, giving it a sacred feeling. In the incense smoke, the two vague figures became even more distinct.
After the kneeling rites, Mo Shi placed a prepared Longevity Tablet for Mo Xuan at the highest tier of the altar. Mo Xuan lifted a finger and sent a point of spiritual light into the tablet.
Mo Shi led the clan to offer incense once again.
The light within Mo Xuan's Longevity Tablet grew lush and bright. Mo Xuan nodded slightly. This tablet was essentially his soul-lamp. As long as he lived, it would remain steady and whole. If he were to die unexpectedly, the tablet would crack and topple, warning the family.
When the ceremony ended, the clan shared the ritual cakes and gradually filed out of the hall.
Mo family daughters remained for a few more days before returning to their husbands' homes with their children—radiant, refreshed, and visibly younger. Their husbands would surely be shocked, then delighted beyond restraint.
Visiting the Village School
The next day, Mo Xuan's childhood teacher from the beginner academy—Teacher Liu—came to visit. He invited Mo Xuan to teach the children for one day.
Back then, Teacher Liu had cared for Mo Xuan a great deal, so Mo Xuan agreed without hesitation. But seeing that the once vigorous Teacher Liu was now white-haired and stooped, Mo Xuan felt a sting of sadness. Unfortunately, the pills he had exchanged had already been distributed—so all he could do was force a thick red envelope into Teacher Liu's hands.
Mo Xuan stood at the village entrance, watching Teacher Liu's ox cart disappear into the distance, sighing deeply.
Beginner academy… It's been so long.
He recalled those days and couldn't help smacking his lips.
It really had been hard.
At dawn, his mother would yank him out from warm bedding. Half-asleep, he would be dressed, splashed awake with water, his bag and canteen hung around his neck, a big steamed bun stuffed into his arms and another in his hand—then pushed out the door.
The cold wind would hit, and he'd shiver fully awake. He would walk toward the county academy, chewing the bun as he went—less than ten kilometers, but it still took nearly an hour.
If he was lucky, he'd meet classmates and walk together, chatting so the road didn't feel so long.
In the morning, they recited the Dao classics behind Teacher Liu and listened to his explanations. At noon, they ate the now-hard bun with cold boiled water, then slept with heads on desks.
In the afternoon, they practiced calligraphy and essays in sand trays. Paper was precious in Qingyuan Minor Immortal Realm—made from a tough reed—mainly to conserve energy. Only ledgers, couplets, books, and the grand examination used real paper.
Then they returned home. At first, classmates walked together happily. At each fork, the group thinned, until Mo Xuan walked alone.
Early out, late back—ten years without exception. This realm had no weekends. Only a handful of holidays each year granted rest.
It was brutal.
Back then, Mo Xuan envied his older brother Mo Zhu, who could sleep in and play during the day. He envied the chubby kid in the front row who sometimes had half a roast chicken for lunch. But he also knew: in this world, cultivation was the only true road forward.
After bitter hardship came sweet reward. Mo Xuan had the advantage of Earth's junior-high education, plus sharp intelligence. After ten years, he passed the tongsheng exam. From then on, he no longer had to attend daily; he could self-study at home, visiting the county academy only when stuck. Teacher Liu was truly learned—he had once placed sixth in the grand exam.
Mo Xuan's first grand exam attempt failed, as expected—the prefecture list only published the top thousand names. Knowing his limits, Mo Xuan chose an unconventional path: he built waterwheels and other labor-saving devices, and gained fame through poetry, lyrics, and couplets. His name spread wider and wider, until he finally caught Immortal Kong's attention and stepped onto the path of cultivation.
Mo Que'er was already a tongsheng. With her ability, she didn't need the beginner academy. She stayed home as Mo Shi's assistant.
Mo Xuan told Que'er: tomorrow, they would go to the academy together.
Que'er agreed, but her heart was full of suspicion—she couldn't tell what Mo Xuan was planning.
The Trip to the County
Before dawn, Mo Xuan and Mo Que'er set out by ox cart.
Que'er sat stiffly, deliberately leaning away from him, arms wrapped around her knees, tense and constrained.
"Que'er," Mo Xuan asked casually as he drove, "how many years did you study before earning tongsheng?"
"Two years," she answered truthfully.
Mo Xuan nodded. "And your first grand exam—fourth place?"
She gave a quiet "Mm."
Impressive. Mo Xuan clicked his tongue inwardly, then asked, "Have you cultivated before?"
"I suppose… you could say I have." Que'er gave a bitter smile. She had cultivated her clan's divine art in her former life—different from immortal cultivation, but still cultivation. At this point she didn't plan to hide it. Better to speak than to keep suffocating in fear.
Mo Xuan only said "Oh," and focused on driving.
Que'er's expression shifted. She wanted to confess more, but didn't know how. One wrong sentence—and she might die on the spot.
They rode in silence until the ox cart reached the county.
Teacher Liu waited outside the city with a large group of students.
Mo Xuan stepped down, greeted Teacher Liu, and returned the proper courtesies.
The students stared at Mo Xuan with burning eyes. He was the first student from Mingyu County's beginner academy to enter Tai Academy, and also the county's first immortal—everyone's role model.
They entered the academy.
Even though it had been renovated many times, it still looked old and worn. Mo Xuan sighed.
No more delays. He sat in the grand chair on the platform.
Below, all desks were moved away. The students sat densely on small stools—children and tongsheng alike—eyes bright with hope. Teacher Liu sat to the side, smiling and nodding.
Mo Xuan looked at those hopeful eyes, and felt a heaviness in his chest. Because the realm's resources were scarce, so many gifted seedlings could never cultivate. They would only farm, have children, farm again, raise children again—ordinary lives to the end.
Mo Xuan steadied himself and began teaching. He explained recent grand exam questions from an immortal's perspective, then moved on to principles of conduct and surviving in society.
He described the structure of Qingyuan Minor Immortal Realm—its thirteen states, then prefectures, counties, villages—and how enormous each region was. Officials were chosen by public selection, and only tongsheng held voting rights. State governors were backed by heavenly immortals and wielded enormous power—almost like emperors—yet even they had to bow to the lowest immortal.
He explained that each year the prefecture took only the top three for Tai Academy, but the public list still published the top thousand—not to "prove fairness," but because top-thousand status carried real value. A top-thousand tongsheng could secure solid positions in county, prefecture, even state capitals. Some could become county magistrates or prefecture heads.
Even those outside the thousand could still manage clan accounts and avoid field labor. If they played it well, they might become village head.
So tongsheng shouldn't only bury themselves in texts. Practical skills mattered: administration, accounting, land surveying, planting, couplet writing, teaching—these were all viable crafts.
But the students below gradually grew restless.
What was this?
They came here to learn how to get into Tai Academy—not how to live after failing to get in.