The air inside the carriage was not exactly pleasant. That was hardly surprising, since nearly thirty children had been crammed into a compartment meant to hold a dozen or so. Though children were much smaller than adults, the carriage was still unbearably crowded.
Han Li nimbly squeezed his thin body into a corner of the compartment and stole glances at the other children around him.
By their dress and background, the children who had come for the entrance examination clearly fell into three groups.
The first group centered on a richly dressed youth sitting in the middle of the carriage, surrounded and deferred to by most of the other boys. His name was Wu Yan. At thirteen, he was the oldest of all the children. Strictly speaking, he exceeded the age limit, but as his cousin had married a man in a position of power within the Sect of Seven Mysteries, the matter of age naturally ceased to be a problem. Wu Yan's family ran a martial arts school and was quite wealthy; he had practiced a little boxing and kicking since childhood. Though his skill was hardly impressive, it was more than enough to deal with boys like Han Li, who had only a peasant's brute strength and no martial training at all.
Clearly, boys like Wu Yan—well-off, well-connected, and handy with a few moves—spontaneously became the "big brothers" of most of the other children.
The second group were the boys who clustered around Wu Yan. They came from all walks of life—sons of shopkeepers, of laborers, of craftsmen. But they all shared one trait: they had grown up in the towns, and had learned from their elders, more or less, the arts of reading faces and pursuing profit. And so they gathered around Wu Yan, calling him "Young Master Wu" and "Brother Wu" without end. Wu Yan, for his part, seemed thoroughly used to it and quite enjoyed the deference.
The last group was composed of boys like Han Li. These came from remote, poverty-stricken places, where families lived off the mountains or the rivers, scraping by as best they could. Such boys were the fewest in the carriage—maybe five or six. They were mostly timid, afraid to speak above a whisper, and stood out in stark contrast to the loudly chattering, boisterous children of the other groups.
The carriage had set out from Qingniu Town and dashed west, stopping at several places along the way to pick up more children. Finally, at dusk on the fifth day, it reached the Caixia Mountains—the seat of the Sect of Seven Mysteries.
All the children were spellbound by the multicolored sunset over the Caixia Mountains the moment they stepped down, until Protector Wang urged them on and they woke from their trance to keep moving.
The Caixia Mountains had originally been called Luofeng Mountain. Legend said a five-colored phoenix had once descended there and turned into the mountain. Later, because visitors found the mountain breathtakingly beautiful at sunset, cloaked in glowing clouds, it was renamed Caixia—the Glowing Cloud Mountains. Since falling into the hands of the Sect of Seven Mysteries, of course, outsiders could no longer come to freely admire such beauty.
The Caixia Mountains was the second largest mountain range in Jing Province, surpassed only by Mount Baimang. It spread over a dozen or so miles, dotted with more than a dozen peaks, each of them steep and perilous, and all of them occupied by the sect's various branch halls. Its main peak, the Sunset Peak, was especially treacherous—tall and sheer, with a single path climbing from base to summit. The sect placed its headquarters there and, along that path at each critical point, set up no fewer than thirteen watcher posts, both visible and hidden, so that the mountain was more than well guarded.
Han Li studied his surroundings as he followed the line ahead. Sudden y the column stopped, and a hearty voice rang out.
"How now, Brother Wang," it said. "What took you so long? You're two days overdue."
"Hall Master Yue," Protector Wang replied, stepping forward to bow respectfully to a red-faced old man. Gone was his overbearing manner; his face wore instead a somewhat ingratiating smile. "There were delays on the road. Forgive the trouble."
"How many batches of disciples has this made to be sent to the mountain?"
"The seventeenth."
"Mmm." This Hall Master Yue cast a leisurely glance over Han Li and the others. "Take them to the Guests' Court, and let them rest well tonight. Selection of qualified disciples begins tomorrow morning. Those who fail should be sent down the mountain at once, lest they offend against the mountain's rules."
"As you command, Hall Master Yue."
As they climbed the stone steps, all the children were brimming with excitement, yet no one dared speak loudly. Though they were young, they all understood that this was the place that would decide their futures.
As he led the way, Protector Wang greeted everyone he met with a smile, clearly well known and well liked within the sect. Most of the people they passed wore green satin robes, carrying knives at their waists or swords slung on their backs; even the few who went empty-handed had bulging belts, concealing who knew what. Their bearing and movements showed them to be nimble, skillful men of no mean martial attainment.
Han Li and the others were taken to a low peak, on whose summit stood a cluster of earthen houses, where they spent the night. In his sleep, Han Li dreamed that he wore rich robes, wielded a golden sword, and possessed peerless martial arts. In the dream he gave the blacksmith's son—the boy he had never been able to beat—a sound thrashing. It was a fine, impressive dream, and he savored it even after waking the next morning.
When morning came, Protector Wang did not let the children have breakfast. He led them directly to a great slope covered with bamboo, where the Hall Master Yue they had seen the day before and several other unfamiliar young men were already waiting.